#imagine what life would look like if I did

[count-on-mi]

Mommy's little boy Part 4 (Dahyun)

Y/N: So finally I have sometime to translate a fic, I have trimmed down some parts so it would not be too lenghty. Incest fic with Mommy Dahyun, and even make her pregrant, enjoy!

Dahyun is a single mother. Her husband passed away from illness many years ago, leaving her and her young son to rely on each other.

Since her husband passed away, Dahyun has been missing him every day. However, to raise her son to adulthood, she has to work tirelessly to earn money to support the family. In the dead of night, Dahyun often tosses and turns in bed, unable to fall asleep, and her physical desires rise accordingly. But she doesn't dare casually find a man to satisfy her physical needs, fearing it might cast a shadow and impact her son's growth.

At times like this, Dahyun can only rely on her own hands to relieve her physical needs. She would quietly turn off the room lights, take off her underwear, gently rub the two rosy spots on her chest with her hands, then reach down to the already muddy little hole, inserting and withdrawing her fingers until she reached climax.

But such self-satisfaction always leaves one feeling empty and lost; Dahyun longs for a real embrace to lean on. She has never been able to take that step out of consideration for her son.

However, what Dahyun did not expect was that unbeknownst to her, her son was secretly developing unusual feelings for her. Whenever she was alone in her room "entertaining herself," there was always a pair of burning eyes outside the door, closely watching her every move.

The voyeur was none other than her son—me. Ever since Dad passed away, I have been secretly watching over everything about Mom. I watched as my mother gradually became thinner, knowing that she was very lonely. One time, I accidentally stumbled upon my mother in the act of masturbation, awakening something within me. From then on, I often hid outside the door when my mother was unaware, secretly watching her private actions, and even masturbated while watching.

Dahyun was completely unaware of this and continued to live her ordinary life every day. But she didn't know that the embrace she longed for day and night was right beside her.

As time went by, my desire for my mother grew increasingly rampant. I was not satisfied with just peeking from outside the door; instead, I started stealing my mother's underwear to comfort myself.

Whenever my mother was not home, I would sneak into her room and open the wardrobe to look for her worn clothes. I would pick up her wore but unwashed bra, inhale the lingering scent deeply, and then put it on my erect penis to rub against it.; Or take a pair of silk panties that mom wore but haven't been washed yet, wrap them around my cock, and jerk off like crazy. Imagining that this is Mom's little hole swallowing my cock, I always quickly reached climax.

Sometimes when Mom is at home, I pretend to accidentally drop something on the floor, taking the opportunity to quickly glance at Mom's legs while bending down to pick it up, sneaking a peek at the color and style of Mom's underwear. If she is putting on a new pair of underwear, I will specifically choose that one to use the next time I steal underwear.

In addition to stealing underwear, I also started secretly filming videos of my mother masturbating with my phone. One time, I heard strange sounds coming from my mother's room. I quietly opened the door and saw Dahyun lying on the bed with her legs spread apart, one hand kneading her breasts and the other moving rapidly in her vagina. That scene made my blood boil, and I immediately took out my phone and started recording my mother's private parts. In the video, it is clearly visible that Mom's pink labia are being spread open, fingers going in and out, the sound of water is continuous, and her expression gradually becomes more and more lustful.

From then on, whenever Mom was alone, I would take the opportunity to secretly film her naked. I have already collected countless videos of my mother during her orgasms, which I can watch and masturbate anytime, anywhere.

Dahyun was completely unaware of all this and continued to live her monotonous life day after day. She never imagined that her closest son would develop such perverse desires towards her.

I could no longer bear the desire that had been suppressed in my heart for many years. One day during dinner, I suddenly said to Dahyun, "Mom, I have something to tell you."

Dahyun looked at me with some surprise, thinking I had gotten into trouble at school again. "Y/N, what's wrong? Did the teacher make you stand in the corner again?"

"No, Mom. I want to tell you that my feelings for you... are a bit complicated."

Dahyun paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "What do kids know about love? The most important thing for you right now is to study hard."

"Not at all!" I suddenly became agitated, stood up, and took off my pants, revealing a thick, erect penis. "My feelings for you, Mom, are not just simple affection! I know you've been lonely all these years, just like I have! Every time you're alone in your room, I stand outside, staring at your body, wanting to possess you, to touch you, to give you true pleasure!"

Dahyun stared at me in disbelief; my words had completely shattered her worldview. She never expected her son to have such taboo feelings for her. "Y/N! What are you talking about? I'm your mother, how can you have such thoughts about me?!"

"But I can't help it, Mom! Every night, I think about your masturbation and watch videos of you to climax. I know it's wrong, but I just can't control myself!" I gripped my penis and moved it up and down, my eyes fixed on Dahyun's body. "Mom, I know you're lonely too. Why can't we satisfy each other? “I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure..."

"Enough!" Dahyun angrily interrupted me, turned around, rushed back to her room, and locked the door. She lay on the bed, crying uncontrollably, feeling deeply guilty for having ignored her son's emotional changes all these years. At the same time, she felt deeply fearful and uneasy about her son's thoughts.

The next morning, Dahyun woke up early as usual to prepare breakfast for me. I came downstairs to the dining room, and as soon as I sat down, I pulled one of Dahyun's hands and placed it on my lap.

"Mom, please reconsider what I said last night.” I know this sounds crazy, but for so many years I've been suppressing my feelings for you, and now I really can't stand it anymore. As long as you are willing to give me a chance, I will make you feel an unprecedented pleasure..."

Dahyun was so scared she almost jumped up, hurriedly pulling her hand away. "Y/N! What are you doing? I'm your biological mother! How can we do such a thing!"

"Mom, listen to me..." I reached out and gently pulled Dahyun closer to me, then hugged her tightly. "I know this is hard to accept, but don't you really want to experience it? “You’ve been through so much alone all these years; I can't bear to see you continue living in such loneliness. Believe me, you will find true happiness with me..."

Dahyun struggled desperately but couldn't escape my embrace. She looked at her son in terror, this child she had loved and cared for since I was little, now harbouring such wicked thoughts towards her.

"Y/N, wake up! We are mother and son, doing such things is against moral ethics! Even if you don't understand these principles now because you are still young, you will regret what you did today when you grow up!"

"No, Mom. I am already an adult now, I can take responsibility for my actions. And you should indulge yourself once, experience the true pleasure of sex..."

I said this as I began to kiss Dahyun's cheeks and neck, my hands restlessly roaming over her body. Dahyun only felt a wave of dizziness, her whole body weakly collapsing into her son's embrace.

"Don't... Y/N... let go of me... I'm your mother... we can't do this..."

"Shh..." I once again took Dahyun's hand and placed it on my throbbing member. "Mom, look, my cock has become so big. It's craving your comfort. Do you know how much I crave your body? Every time I watch you in the bathroom, I can't help but imagine how beautiful and captivating your naked body is. Why don't we give in to our inner desires and try a taboo relationship just this once?

Dahyun felt her son's palm as hot as a branding iron, tightly gripping her small hand and sliding it along my shaft. My penis is so huge that it almost swallows her entire hand. She never thought her son would develop such a huge thing; it was simply beyond her comprehension.

As her palm rubbed, a surge of heat quickly surged into Dahyun's brain, causing her to involuntarily let out a soft gasp. She hadn't tasted the pleasures of the flesh in a long time, and her lower body was gradually becoming moist.

“Oh my... my son's manhood... so thick and strong... if only it could come inside... how pleasurable it would be...”

Dahyun's cheeks flushed, her reason gradually being eroded by her body's desires. Although she still felt resistance in her heart, she couldn't stop herself from fantasizing and desiring her son's penis. This kind of taboo thought made her feel incredibly ashamed, yet it also brought an inexplicable excitement.

"Mom, I'm waiting for your answer... Are you really not willing to give me a chance to satisfy your needs? I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure... trust me..."

Her son's whispers echoed in her ears, and Dahyun's body trembled suddenly. She knew she had already been captivated by her son's words. Reason told her she shouldn't agree to such a request, but desire kept tempting her.

Dahyun is still struggling with whether to give in to her son's desires, with reason and desire waging a fierce battle in her heart. Her son's penis was simply too sexy and alluring; its hot, firm touch made it hard for her to resist. But as a mother, how could she do something so morally wrong?

I was unaware of the conflict in my mother's heart; I was only focused on enjoying the sensual scene before me. I vigorously kneaded Dahyun's round breasts and erected nipples, feeling their elasticity and softness in my hands. I then turned to knead Dahyun's full, perky buttocks, my fingers sliding between the two fleshy cheeks.

“Ah... so comfortable... Mom's body is truly perfect... I can finally possess you... I'm going to thoroughly enjoy your body...”

I was extremely excited, and my actions became bolder and bolder. However, I overlooked a fact—I was just a newly adult young man who had no idea how to control my strength. My rough touches and pinches left Dahyun's body marked with red, making her cry out in pain.

"Ah... Y/N... be gentler... you're hurting me..."

Dahyun twisted her body trying to escape, only to find herself in an even deeper predicament. Her son's rough caresses, though somewhat painful, were also igniting her desires. She unconsciously began to stroke my penis with her hand, the thick and powerful sensation igniting her desire.

“Ah... I can't take it anymore... I want more... I want my son's cock...”

Dahyun's rationality had long been thrown out the window; she was immersed in the ultimate pleasure brought by her son.

I was brought to the peak of pleasure by Dahyun's sudden actions, almost reaching climax immediately. I stopped moving, and took a deep breath to calm myself down. 

"Mom... have you finally decided to give in to my desires?" 

Dahyun lowered her head in shame, unable to meet her son's questioning gaze. "I... I don't know... I shouldn't have agreed... but I... I just couldn't control myself... Your cock is just too sexy and alluring... it's hard for me to resist..."

I was overjoyed, grabbing Dahyun and kissing her deeply on the lips. "Mom... I knew you would also be entranced by my cock... Let's start today... Let me take good care of you..." After saying this, I couldn't wait to tear off Dahyun's clothes, revealing her snow-white body. I eagerly licked and kissed the two rosy points on Dahyun's chest, then continued down, biting her lower abdomen and thighs.

“Ah... son... slow down... don't be so impatient...”

Dahyun gently pushed my shoulder, trying to stop my overly rough attack. However, I seemed completely lost in Dahyun's beautiful body, ignoring her resistance. I forcefully spread Dahyun's thighs, revealing her most secret garden.

“Mom... I can't wait any longer... I want to possess you right now...”

I pressed my cock against Dahyun's clits, preparing to insert it. Dahyun suddenly woke up and grabbed my wrist.

"Wait... I... I can't do this... this is just too wrong..."

"Mom... please... just let me have you this once... just this once... I promise I won't bring it up again in the future..."

I rubbed my penis against Dahyun's labia, trying to make her give up her last resistance.

Dahyun had already turned into a puddle under her son's onslaught, her reason no longer able to hold out. "Alright... just this once... you must never bring it up again..."

Hearing Dahyun's consent, I was overjoyed as if I had struck a treasure, I quickly spread Dahyun's thighs and thrust into her hardly.

"Ah!!" Dahyun moaned loudly, her son's huge cock penetrated directly to the deepest point, and her vagina was completely filled. "Y/N...be gentle...it's too big for me..."

"Mom...it feels so good...you're so tight inside...I'm going to move..."

I said and began to thrust hard, my thick cock tumbling inside Dahyun's body. Dahyun was knocked wildly by me, and she lost all reason for a moment. She could only instinctively follow the rhythm and move her waist to suit me.

"Hmm...ah...Junhao...so powerful...you penetrate so deeply...I'm about to be fucked by you..."

Dahyun's eyes were blurred, and she kept moaning incoherently. She had never thought that incest with her son would bring such intense pleasure as if her whole body was about to melt.

I was even more excited when I heard my mother's moans, and my movements became more and more wild.

I listened to my mother's moans, becoming even more excited, my movements growing wilder.

"Ah... Mom... it feels so good... you're so tight inside... I can't take it anymore..."

My breathing became heavier, and my pace quickened. I no longer cared about any techniques of shallow or deep thrusts, only thinking about fiercely possessing Dahyun's body.

Dahyun quickly intervened, "Y/N... slow down... if you go too fast, you'll cum quickly... we finally have this opportunity... you need to try to prolong it..."

However, how could I, who was experiencing sex for the first time, possibly hold back? I was already too deeply enchanted by Dahyun's body and just wanted to reach the climax as soon as possible. I increased the intensity of my thrusts, each one hitting deep inside Dahyun.

"Ah... Mom... I can't take it anymore... I'm going to cum..."

My cock throbbed inside Dahyun, releasing thick streams of semen that filled her vagina for the first time.

"Oh... Y/N... why did you finish so quickly..."

Dahyun helplessly watched as her son pulled out his softening member, a stream of white semen flowing from her open entrance.

"I'm sorry, Mom... I'm just too excited... It's too exciting to do this with you for the first time... I will try to keep longer next time..."

I lowered my head in shame. I originally thought I was well prepared, but I didn't expect to be conquered so easily by Dahyun's alluring body.

"It doesn't matter... This time we finally got what we wanted... You don't have to worry too much about time... We will have many opportunities in the future..."

Seeing that I was a little disappointed, Dahyun couldn't help but feel pity. She sat up, holding my cock with one hand, and wrapped her other hand around my neck and pulled me towards her.

"Good boy... don't be discouraged... we still have time... let mommy teach you now..."

Dahyun took my softened cock into her mouth and sucked it carefully. I felt a familiar feeling of pleasure return and couldn't help but let out a comfortable cry.

"Mom...your mouth feels so comfortable...I'm getting hard again..."

Dahyun glanced up at me with a look of satisfaction in her eyes. She sped up her swallowing speed, sometimes swiping the crown with the tip of her tongue.

"Hmm... um... right there... a little deeper... yes... it feels so good..."

My cock became engorged and swollen again under Dahyun's service, even thicker and more powerful than before.

"Mom...I'm going to insert it..."

I pulled out my cock from Dahyun's mouth, eagerly spread her legs and inserted it again. Dahyun's vagina was filled with my huge penis at once, and the pleasure immediately overwhelmed her.

"Ah...it's too big...Y/N...slow down..."

However, I have been blinded by desire at this moment. How can I care about slow progress? I thrust in and out widely, hitting the deepest part of Dahyun hard with every thrust.

"Mom...I finally have you again...It feels so good inside you...I want to fuck you to death...

Dahyun was fascinated by her son's almost violent offensive, but she knew that she could not let me go on like this, otherwise, I would soon end early again. So Dahyun tapped my shoulder to signal me to stop.

"Y/N... you are too impatient... we still have a long time to enjoy... now you just insert it into me like this... let mommy teach you some new tricks..."

Dahyun stretched out her hand to knead her breasts, her eyes drifting to me: "Look at my hands... caress my nipples like this... They are very sensitive... you can lick, bite and suck... but You must be gentle...otherwise it will hurt..."

I followed Dahyun's instructions and leaned down to kiss her breasts gently. I teased the pink nipples with the tip of my tongue, pursed my lips lightly, sometimes sucked and sometimes licked.

"Yes...that's it...then you have to thrust your cock inside me in small strokes...don't use too much force...this way it can last longer..."

I did as I was told, and my cock squirmed inside Dahyun like a snake, each squeeze bringing a new level of pleasure.

"Ah...Y/N...you are so good...just like this...slowly enjoy your mother's body..."

Dahyun closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling the pleasure brought by her son. My lips and tongue moved around her body, like a slippery little snake; while my cock pumped rhythmically inside her body, like a posing enchantress. The combination of the two brought her unprecedented bliss.

Dahyun felt my tongue getting farther and farther away from her nipples, as if I was exploring other parts of himself. She knew it was a good start, but it wasn't enough.

"Here... try playing with my breasts with your hands... just like what I did before... but with gentle pressure... I can get hurt easily..."

Dahyun takes my hand and guides me to move around her breasts. My warm palms gently pressed her breasts, and then used my fingers to draw circles around the nipples.

"Um...yeah...a little harder...and squeeze it between your thumb and forefinger..."

I did as I was told, and Dahyun's nipples quickly hardened in my hands. I seemed to find it very novel, caressing Dahyun's breasts in different ways, sometimes squeezing and sometimes rubbing.

"Ah...you learn so fast...it's so comfortable...now put your hands on my waist...grab my hips..."

Dahyun taught me how to grasp her ass cheeks and then ordered me to thrust in and out of her.

"Now feel free to do whatever you want... Just remember not to use too much force... Let Mom guide you for the rest..."

After I got the right to express myself freely, I was immediately excited. I kneaded Dahyun's breasts into various shapes and dug my fingers deeply into them; at the same time, I thrust deeply into Dahyun's body, and each thrust hit her deepest part.

"Mom...your body is so sexy...I want to possess you forever...never stop..."

Dahyun couldn't help but smile after hearing this. This young child finally truly understood the wonder of sex.

I attacked every inch of Dahyun's skin tirelessly, and her pleasure gradually accumulated to its peak. Suddenly, an electric feeling rose from her spine and spread throughout her body.

"Ah——! I'm about to cum...!"

Dahyun hugged my back tightly, her whole body trembling. I also felt the vibration in Dahyun's body and knew that I had brought her an unparalleled climax.

"Mom... Your insides are tightening like spasms... Your orgasm is so wonderful... I'm about to cum too..."

Dahyun immediately stopped him after hearing this: "No...Y/N...we have more new tricks to try...change your position...let mom kneel in front of you like a doggy...then you start from Come in from behind...that kind of perspective will make you feel particularly exciting..."

Dahyun turned around and kneeled with a blushing face, raising her butt high and waiting for me to enter.

"Y/N... come on... fuck mom hard... like a pussy..."

Junhao was immediately excited and penetrated Dahyun from behind with his still-hard cock.

"Ah...this perspective is so exciting...Mom, your body is so sexy...I want to fuck you..."

I thrust violently, making Dahyun's ass crack with each thrust.

Dahyun thought that the doggy-style perspective would make me more excited, but she didn’t expect that her son’s favourite thing was her buttocks. When I lay on her back and kept thrusting, Dahyun felt extremely ashamed.

"Ah...Y/N...don't slap my butt so hard...it hurts..."

Dahyun begged, but I couldn't stop at all. I galloped across the grassland like a wild horse, slamming into Dahyun's ass again and again.

"Mom...your ass is so sexy...I just like to see it swaying in front of my eyes...listening to the slapping sound is so exciting..."

My hands kept slapping Dahyun's butt, leaving a red mark. Dahyun's face turned red with embarrassment, but she had to admit that this method really made me more excited.

"Y/N...Mom knows you like this...but please be gentle...it will really hurt..."

Dahyun twisted and tried to avoid my slap but was firmly held by me again. I increased the speed, thrusting as deep as possible with each stroke, and slapped Dahyun's ass hard.

"Ahhhh——! I can't help it...you're too fierce...I can't stand it anymore...please be gentle..."

Dahyun couldn't help but scream, her sanity had been completely destroyed by my crazy behaviour. She could only let her son do whatever he wanted behind her and hoped that the storm would pass as soon as possible.

Dahyun's words only aroused my animal nature. I roared like a beast and kept thrusting behind Dahyun. Dahyun could only keep begging for mercy, but her begging became my best aphrodisiac.

"Ah... don't... you're too big... I really can't stand it anymore... please stop..."

Dahyun cried, her body shaking. I, however, acted as if I couldn't understand the human words, and instead intensified my efforts, thrusting harder and deeper into Dahyun every time.

"Mom...you are so sexy...I love the sound of your cries...you should lie down in front of me like a dog...let me fuck as the way I like..."

I said and slapped Dahyun's butt hard again, leaving a red stain. Dahyun let out a cry of pain, but she also felt an unprecedented pleasure.

"Ah... no... don't... but I feel so good... this feeling is so weird..."

Dahyun was so ashamed that she never thought that one day she would be fucked like a bitch by her son, and she felt extremely excited. I also felt the tightening and throbbing inside Dahyun, knowing that she was about to climax again.

"Ah... I'm going again... Y/N... please be gentle..."

Dahyun cried out, her body arching involuntarily. Her vagina spasmed violently, wrapping my cock tightly.

Dahyun's vagina bit down on my cock, making me immediately on the verge of ejaculation.

"Mom... Your pussy is about to pinch me off... I'm going to cum inside... Let me cum inside you... give birth to my baby..."

I roared softly as I made the final sprint. My words made Dahyun even more ashamed, but she was already blinded by sexual desire and could not think about ethical issues.

"Hmm...Y/N...come on...cum inside mom...let mom give birth to a baby for you..."

Dahyun agreed softly. She never thought that one day she would be eager to be creampied by her son, and she even agreed to give birth to a child for him. But at this moment, she just wants me to be released in her body, so that she can reach a higher level of bliss.

Hearing that my mother agreed to give birth to me, I was so excited that I finally reached the peak after dozens of frantic thrusts.

"Ahhhh——! I am cumming! All of it inside you! Make you pregnant!"

I let out a low growl of satisfaction and cummed all my seed deep into Dahyun's womb. Dahyun was also stimulated to orgasm again and again by the scalding heat. Her vagina contracted violently, tightly wrapping her son's cock, as if she wanted to squeeze out every drop of semen inside.

"Oh...god...so much...I'm really going to get pregnant..."

Dahyun said absently that she no longer cared about the consequences and now only wanted to enjoy this ultimate pleasure.

Since the accident, the relationship between Dahyun and me has become closer and closer. At first, Dahyun still had some concerns, fearing that my body would if I ejaculated too many times a day. But she soon discovered that her son's energy was too amazing.

On the first morning after that day, when Dahyun got up, she saw me standing naked in front of the bed. The giant thing under my crotch was already erect and covered with bright morning dew.

"Mom...you wake up...I want you again..."

I smiled and climbed onto the bed, spread Dahyun's thighs with ease, and thrust myself into them.

"Ah...you're here again...didn't it just end..."

Dahyun was a little helpless, but she quickly indulged in the pleasure. Although my speed was not fast, I penetrated deeply every time, and Dahyun soon had a second orgasm.

"Mom...I love you...you are my little evil...I can't get enough..."

I murmured, speeding up and thrusting inside Dahyun again.

This is a portrayal of the mother and son's life day after day. Dahyun was a little resistant at first, but was soon impressed by my love words and skills. Now as long as I am horny, Dahyun will open the door to welcome my invasion. She uses her body to teach me the secrets of sex, and I use my cock to repay Dahyun's generosity.

Sex between us takes up most of their lives. Dahyun's vagina has become my exclusive toy, waiting for my use at any time.

I soon moved into Dahyun's room to stay overnight, and we had sex all the time. When cooking in the kitchen, Dahyun would suddenly lift her skirt to expose her wet pussy, allowing me to penetrate her directly from behind; when taking a bath, Dahyun would kneel in the bathtub and give me a blow job until I couldn't help but erupt in her mouth. So far; when eating dinner, Dahyun accidentally touched my leg, I would grab Dahyun's hand and guide it to my crotch, and then push Dahyun down on the sofa; when watching TV, Dahyun would sit on my lap and move by herself, until my mood comes, we changes to the normal position. The lives of us have been completely filled with sex. No matter when and where, as long as one of us is sexually excited, the other party will cater to it.

No matter where we are, as long as one of them proposes to "fuck until mommy gets pregnant" the two of us will be particularly excited. I will also ejaculate more and thicker semen, filling Dahyun's vagina to the brim.

The tacit understanding between mother and son is also getting better and better. Dahyun knows where my most sensitive parts are, and how to stimulate me to reach climax faster; she also knows how to control her body posture and rhythm, so that she can reach multiple orgasms and prolong my ejaculation time.

Once, Dahyun deliberately rode her hips on the bed and played with my scrotum, which made me only last five minutes before exploding inside her. Another time, Dahyun adopted the method of "nine shallow and one deep", slowly guiding me to rush inside the body, allowing Junhao to enjoy the sex for an entire hour.

Dahyun has mastered these techniques to such an extent that she knows how to drive me into ecstasy and madness. Dahyun is already familiar with where my sensitive points are. As long as she wants, she can make me stay in her pussy for a long time. But seeing I struggling to cum inside her body, she would always soften her heart and let me wreak havoc in her deepest parts.

Dahyun soon became pregnant with my child as I creampied her as frequently as a stallion. Faced with this unexpected result, Dahyun was a little overwhelmed - she had to admit the fact that she and her son were incest and faced social condemnation. But just when she was hesitant, my idea once again made her indulge in physical desires.

"Mom, since you are already pregnant with my child, let's take this opportunity to play some new tricks! I can fuck you and suck your milk at the same time!"

I suggested with a smile, while untying Dahyun's clothes, burying my head on her breasts and nibbling.

"Ah...you little...you are so full of tricks..."

Dahyun hummed softly, stretched out her hand to hold my head, and took the initiative to put her breast into my mouth.

"Mommy's milk must be so sweet...I'm going to suck you dry...and keep fucking you...until our child is born..."

I said vaguely, sucking harder with my lips and tongue.

Under the temptation of my big cock, Dahyun was quickly overcome by desire. She no longer thinks about her child's future, nor does she care about the outside world's opinions. The only thing she wants now is to have intense sex with her son until she faints.

So, with a burst of rapid breathing, Dahyun held my head tightly and allowed me to explore between her breasts. I slipped my fingers into Dahyun's vagina, stirring inside, preparing for the next wild sex.

Under my strong request, Dahyun resigned from the company on the grounds of concentrating on childbirth. In fact, her purpose in doing this was just to give me more time and space to fuck his mother.

Due to the changes in hormone levels during pregnancy, Dahyun's sexual desire is stronger than before, and she is becoming more and more addicted to my big cock. Except when going to the toilet, my penis always remained inside her.

Whether in the dining room or living room or even on the balcony and bathroom, every corner of the home left traces of our intense intercourse. The gurgling juices and milky white semen mixed together, soaking most of the room.

Dahyun lay on the dining table with her butt raised high, allowing me to thrust violently from behind. Her top had been torn off, and her round breasts were exposed to the air, swaying with the impact from behind.

"Hmm... it's too deep... My boy ... you are always so rough... you're going to break mommy..."

Dahyun bit the corner of her lip, reached up to her chest with one hand to rub the erect nipples, and reached down with the other hand to rub the engorged clits.

"Mom, don't you like being fucked bad by me? You said you want our child to be filled with my big cock until he is born..."

I growled, speeding up his sprint.

My penis moved in and out of Dahyun's vagina like a tamping machine. Every time I inserted it, a large amount of nectar would flow out down the top of her thighs. Dahyun's delicate labia has long been red and swollen from being fucked, but she still tirelessly swallows my huge cock.

"Yes...let's let our baby feel...how it forms in mom's pussy...ahh...going to cum..."

Dahyun raised her head, her eyes blurred, and a wanton moan escaped from her mouth.

My movements became more and more fierce. I grabbed Dahyun's waist, pressed her against the table and thrust her hard, and every time I penetrated her to the deepest point. Dahyun's body began to convulse, and a warm juice surged out of her body, soaking my lower body.

"Ha...it's so hot...Mommy's climax...I'm almost there too ..."

I gritted my teeth, and after the last few deep thrusts, I also cummed a large amount of semen, filling Dahyun's womb.

Dahyun lay weakly on the table, her legs trembling, and the clothes underneath her were completely soaked with water and semen. I pulled out my cock which is still hard, it was covered in the mixture that belonged to both of us.

"You're so beautiful...Mom...I can never get enough of you..."

I leaned down and kissed Dahyun's sweaty back.

Dahyun chuckled, turned around and kissed me back.

"Me too...my son...you are the one who really makes me happy.”

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part i]

After choosing to break the cycle, Jinx [now Powder] tries to find her place in the countryside away from everything she once knew, drawn to someone who seems to embody everything she's wanted but never deserved. playlist!!!

The cottage was quiet, almost too quiet. She had chosen this place for that very reason after all. It was far from everything she used to know. Far from people who might recognize her, far from her past, and most importantly, far from the chaos she had attracted her whole life.

And yet, the quiet unsettled her.

Her days were simple now. Fixing up the cottage, teaching herself how to cook, tending to the purple and orange flowers she had no idea how to take care of. Simple things.

She only went into town when absolutely necessary, and even then, she kept her head down and her interactions short. People didn’t pry, but she saw the curiosity in their eyes. They looked at her like she was out of place, as if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

Except for you. You were different. Powder had noticed that right away.

The first time she saw you, she thought she was just seeing things.

You were at the edge of the farmer’s market, the sun shining down on you, your head tilted back, shoulders shaking as you laughed, your body so... unguarded. As if you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for something bad to happen. And for a moment, Powder forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t just the sound of your laughter or the warmth in your eyes when you spoke to someone who passed by. You had this way of moving like you belonged there, like you were part of the town in a way she couldn’t imagine ever being.

She’d only meant to grab a few supplies, slip in and out before anyone could try to talk to her. But then there you were, and she couldn’t look away.

She didn’t approach you. Told herself it was because she didn’t want to stand out, didn't want to risk anyone noticing her more than they already had. But deep down, she knew the truth. You made her feel small. The type of small you feel when you're around someone you look up to. A person who represents everything you want to be, someone you want to keep in your life forever. She couldn't just walk up to you so casually, not when you reminded her of everything she wasn't.

And yet she couldn't keep her distance. Because even though you left her feeling small, you also made her want to be something more. You made her hopeful. A feeling that had been so rare to come by nowadays. That maybe, just maybe one day she’d be as content as you were in this small warm town.

She wanted to know what it was like to feel so at ease, to be... satisfied. Not perfect, not terrible, but enough. And when she saw you, she saw how.

She started seeing you more often after that. Helping at the market, skipping down the dirt paths, stopping to pet the stray cats that wandered by, you took your time with everything you did, like there was no rush, like you had all the time in the world. It wasn’t long before she found herself looking for you whenever she came into town.

You were always smiling, always patient with everyone you spoke to. She couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being at peace looked like.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. About the way you seemed to fit so perfectly. It made her heart ache, this longing for something she wasn’t even sure she could have.

Sometimes, she’d catch herself lingering for too long, staring as you handed out fresh flowers to some kids or waved goodbye to one of the older shopkeepers. She’d duck her head, hoping you hadn’t noticed, but part of her wished you would.

Late at night when her little cottage was quiet and cold, she’d let her mind wander. She’d imagine herself laughing like you did, walking through the town with that same easy confidence. She’d picture you waving to her. Not out of politeness, but because you knew her. Because she was someone worth knowing, someone you wanted around.

It was a stupid thought. She knew that much. Someone like you, so open and kind didn’t belong anywhere near someone like her. But the thought still lingered, no matter how much she tried to push it away.

But for now, she stayed at a distance, quietly admiring you from afar. Wondering if one day she’d have the courage to find her own place in this town, preferably next to you.

Today, you were at the bakery, carrying a piece of warm bread to the counter. Powder stood just outside the window, watching as you handed a loaf to the shop owner with that signature smile that never seemed forced. Your hair caught the sunset through the glass, and her heart did this stupid little flip that she hated and loved at the same time.

You were everything. Bright, grounded, kind in a way that felt genuine. It was the way people lit up around you, how even the grumpiest of the townsfolk seemed to soften in your presence. Powder found herself wanting to be one of them.

But not today. Today was coming to an end. So as she watched you place your bread in your basket, she took one last glance at your face before turning on her heel, heading home.

At night, when the world was still, she tried to ignore how much of her thoughts were filled with you. She told herself it didn’t matter, that this small admiration was harmless.

But as the days passed, it grew harder to ignore. Harder to convince herself that watching from afar was enough.

. . .

You were standing near the fountain in the town square, chatting with a small group of neighbors. The market stalls around you were loud, filled with laughter and conversation. Powder stood by one of the lamp posts, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her worn jacket, and her eyes glued to you.

You were smiling, of course, your face lit up with that same warmth that made her heart skip a beat. It was such a simple scene, one she had seen countless of times before. And yet, today, it felt different.

Her eyes darted to the little group you were standing with, chatting like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way you tilted your head, listening to some old guy ramble about whatever. So patient, so... nice. Powder’s chest clenched, hard.

She shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t her place. It was yours, with your calm smiles and easy conversations. Meanwhile, her hands were shaking just thinking about standing that close. People like her didn’t fit in with people like you. She was jagged edges and scrambled thoughts, and you were everything smooth and steady.

But still, her feet wouldn’t move. Not backward, not forward. Just... stuck, staring at the way you chuckled when one of the neighbors cracked some lame joke. She hated how much she wanted to be part of it, part of you.

The thought made her stomach flip in the worst way. She didn’t deserve that kind of peace, not after everything she’d done. Not after all the ways she’d ruined things.

But then you laughed again, and it hit her like a punch to the face. That sound, that easy, genuine laughter, it made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could want something good for herself. Even if she didn’t deserve it. She wanted it more than anything.

She let out a shaky breath, every part of her screaming to go home and hide. She almost did. But then she looked up, and there you were, smiling, like the world wasn’t a mess. Like things could be easy if you let them.

Her feet began to move before she could stop them.

The crowd didn’t even notice her no whispers, no stares, just the usual hum of the town square. She kept walking, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And suddenly, she was right there. Close enough to smell your perfume, closer than she had ever been.

You turned your head towards her, mid-laugh.

She should’ve ran. She should’ve stayed away, kept pretending this wasn’t something she wanted.

But she didn’t.

Her voice was quiet, shaky, but it was hers.

“Hey.”

You blinked, surprised but not unkind, and Powder swore she saw your smile widen ever so slightly.

It wasn’t much. But it was the first step.

. . .

[part ii]

I LOVE SELF-DEPRICATING JINX!!!!! i literally cannot stop writing her like this goly... anyways i loved this idea sm (and am so proud of myself for it like wow im just so smart and amazing) SO I RLLY WANNA WRITE A PART 2 FROM READERS POV WHERE THEY TALK MORE ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- (update they did not in fact talk more)

also lowkey obsessed with the idea of obsessive stalker jinx but like this is supposed to be fluff so maybe ill write something like that another time...

thanks 4 reading as always!!! XOXOXOXOXO

[codnasties]

bull rider!ghost 👻

having an uni bestie that's from a small rural town as someone who was born and raised in a city has it's perks, like getting to experience things you had never experienced before. and i'm talking about going to a rodeo.

crowd roaring as a new rider sat on an angry bull and got tossed into the air as the animal bucked fiercely. the first few wild dudes that you had seen were interesting. you know, the attraction of something new that you had never really seen before. but after a handful of them it started getting a bit boring, but your friend was cheering on so loudly and seemingly enjoying that so much it would probably be rude to tell them that you weren't having so much fun.

trying to find some kind of entertainment, you told your friend you were going to go and get a drink, because at this moment a beer looked like it would bring you some semblance of entertainment.

but you were wrong, because as you make your way back to the rodeo grounds, your eye caught a rider that was different. he had a commanding and charming aura to him, something that impelled you to look at him. well, maybe it was more that just the way he carried himself.

it was the way those jeans seemed to hug those thick thighs of his, how, with the help of the chaps he was wearing, they left little to imagination, giving you a perfect view of his ass. and oh what an ass! and his shirt... the way his strong and built muscle seemed to flex and ripple with each movement that he made.

when you finally made it back to where your friend was sitting - which took you longer than the way to the bar because of adoring such a man -, this mysterious dude was now on the chute, lowering himself onto one hell of an angry bull.

while the rest of the riders had caught your eye, there was nothing but anticipation inside of you to see him try to tame that ton and a half bull. and he did not disappoint, the beast beneath him bucking trying to get him of.

it wasn't just the way he has holding on or how long those eight seconds seemed to last when it was him on the arena. it was the way his hips swayed trying to follow the bulls movements, the way the bicep of the arm he was using to hold on became impossibly bigger with the tension, the veins that were proptinding on the hand he had up in the air, the glimpse of tattoos on his forearm as the sleeve of his shirt got pulled by his muscles.

before you ever realised, the buzzer had sounded, indicating that the time necessary was over and that he could now get off the bull. and when he did, you became even more intrigued by him and how fucking tall he looked and how he, amazingly, had managed to keep the hat he was wearing on his head the whole time.

seeing how entranced you were by this one specific rider, your friend immediately gave you that information that you were unknowingly desperate to know. "his name is simon riley, but they call him ghost"

"ghost?", you asked them back.

"yup, because of the way he rides, breaks records and then fucking vanishes. the public doesn't really know much about him or his personal life. and it's also a know fact that is hard to even get to meet him and talk to him" they explained. "oh, an also he ghost every single person that he fucks'

"hmm interesting", you hummed, starting to get into your head that as much as this 'ghost' seemed attractive and got you horny just from looking at him, he was quite unreachable and maybe a bit of an asshole.

"yeah, the man's a beast at what he does", they exclaimed, cutting your thought process.

"i can see, you don't need me to tell me twice", you uttered back.

"and he's actually a cousin of mine! let me introduce you to him'" they gave you further explanation.

you couldn't help the immediate 'oh' that left you. because you actually had a chance to talk to this man an maybe, maybe try to cham your way into those tight jeans of his. because an asshole has his charm, you know?

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

hope y'all enjoyed that, i just pulled this out of my pussy.

no smut just pure hornyness. anyways, save a horse ride a cowboy or sum

[deathbypixelz]

Screenshotting my original tags because there's some thoughts I want to get out.

I stopped watching the show in season one because I wanted this to happen so badly but I was so afraid I was just gonna get burned again. Or that it wasn't going to be good, though that was a much lesser fear. If anything knowing how well Fortiche could animate this made the first fear worse.

So yes I was watching the tags from the sidelines waiting to see if what I wanted so fucking badly would happen. I'd settle for a kiss, because even that is too much for most shows, and I was hoping for a sex scene on top of that. And then when it did, and then AGAIN, I wasn't ecstatic like I thought I'd be. I was just kind of... sad. And it took me until this morning to figure out why.

This is really, really good. It's short but it's really good. This is what lesbian intimacy and lesbian sex looks like. And I have never. in my life. seen it done so well.

And I have no idea when I will ever see it done so well again.

Animating characters touching AT ALL is EXTREMELY hard to get right, so I've heard. Let alone intimate touch. I mean fucking DRAWING IT is a struggle at times. And seeing just how fucking well Arcane does physicality and touch is, again, what made that first fear of mine worse.

I'm sad because I know now this is all we're getting of them. Even if there's a season three, why would they spend the time on a second sex scene? You know?

I wanted to see people like me loving like me and I got it. And I'm almost certainly going to cry over it later today. This is all I've wanted for years. And to an older lesbian who's seen the lack of real depiction for longer than I have, I can't imagine how this might feel.

When will I ever see it done in so beautiful a show, so honestly, with so much care, and with so much respect ever again? I don't know. And that's what's making this hurt in a weird way. It sounds shallow in a vacuum but I wish we could see them like this again, and again, and again, and again. Or any other pair of lesbians in this show. It really doesn’t matter to me.

I just want to see people like me -- really like me. It's all I've wanted for years. And I saw myself in these gifs. I have never seen myself reflected back like this. I have never felt this way before in my life. And as I'm typing this, I'm crying now.

...

I just wanted to say this and get it out of my brain. I'm going to channel this ache for more into art of my own. I hope the next time isn't too far away.

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LESBIANS: 2x08 - “Killing is a Cycle”

[maybankswhore]

WANNA BE YOURS ’ JJ MAYBANK.

summary: jj’s been avoiding you after your break up with john b , but not for the reason you think.

request from prompt list: “i can’t stay away from you.”

When you think back to your relationship with John B , you aren’t sure when it stopped being meaningful.

Of course the relationship had its moments. The ones that you could look back on and smile , cherish the memory. But it was different. Because you didn’t look back on those memories and feel sad. You didn’t cry that they were fleeting. You didn’t miss it.

It was more of a grateful feeling. A feeling of fulfillment and enjoyment. But not sad.

In the end , the both of you felt it. That connection wasn’t there. The relationship wasn’t growing. You weren’t falling in love with eachother , more so , falling into a friendship that the both of you were scared to let go.

He had become your person and vice versa. The comfort the both of you had gotten from eachother , how honest and vunerable the two of you were able to be was something special.

But the relationship ran its course and John B admitted that he had started developing feelings for Sarah Cameron.

You weren’t mad at him or upset. He cried , feeling ashamed and scared of what it meant: you held his hand , brushed his face and encouraged him to explore it.

Breaking the news to your friends were the hardest part. Pope and Kiara were all knowing , especially Pope who you had confided in once before. They were supportive , and promised that nothing would change in the Pogue’s dynamic.

JJ on the other hand , he looked like a deer in headlights. He fidgeted alot , kept glancing up at you to study your face. JJ could tell that you didn’t look upset and he wasn’t sure what that meant. He wanted to yell at John B , push him and curse him for taking something as beautiful as you for granted.

But he couldn’t.

In fact , he couldn’t even face you.

JJ had always been taken with you. Since the moment he met you on the beach , everything about you just left him speechless. He though you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and he remembered how he gushed to Pope about you , ranting and raving about the girl he met.

Imagine his surprise when you showed up at the Chateau two days later next to John B— grinning up at him with stars in your eyes. He was deflated. Hurt. But he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for not making a move that night.

For two years he watched you and John B be together. And in those two years he had gotten to know you. All of you. That didn’t help. He thought the feelings he had for you would disappear. Girl after girl came into his life until he realized , he looked for you in every girl he met.

Although it was hard for him and it hurt him to slowly fall in love with you while you were seemingly falling in love for his bestfriend , it was easier for him to accept the fact you were off limits because you were taken by said bestfriend. Now that you were single , free and John B was running off with the Kook Princess , JJ wasn’t confident that he could just. . . not make a move , not confess everything he had pent up all these years.

But God , did he love you.

JJ had made it a point to avoid you. Any time he saw you at the Wreck , he ducked and hoped you hadn’t seen him. When you were invited to the Chateau or to the marsh , JJ always found some excuse to give so he wouldn’t be there. So he wouldn’t have to see you.

It was killing him on the inside. He was itching to see you again. To finally touch you , feel you , be yours. But he was afraid. Afraid of rejection , how it would to his friends , how John B would feel especially.

It was too messy and he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t.

Eventually you had noticed JJ’s sudden change in behavior.

“Is it just me or does he like , suddenly hate me?” You mentioned to Kiara while the two of you sunbathed , JJ affectively avoiding you by staying in the water.

Kiara scoffed. “I wouldn’t say hate.”

You were confused by what she meant.

But days turned into weeks , and you couldn’t take it anymore. You missed him. It made you feel like he blamed you for the break up with John B or he resented you for whatever reason.

Your knuckles rapped on the door to his room where you knew he was staying in John B’s hallway. The other Pogue’s went surfing and told you JJ wasn’t coming because he was sick.

You finally had enough.

“JJ freaking Maybank! I know you’re in there so open up the damn door.” You yelled through the wood loudly , a fixated look on your face.

Nobody answered and you continued knocking on the door. “JJ! What the hell is your problem with me?” Your voice was just as loud. But after minutes of silence , you stopped knocking. Suddenly you felt all of your anger disappear. You felt small , and for some reason your chest began to hurt.

“JJ. . .” the anger was all gone , now your voice was soft and sad. Cracking at the end of his name. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

As if JJ’s own heart broke at the sound of your voice , he sighed heavily and got up from his place on the bed. The door flung open and in front of you stood a disheveled JJ. His hair was a mess , there were bags under his eyes and you could tell he had been crying. “I can’t stay away from you—”

“Really? Because it seems like that’s all you’ve been doing these past couple weeks is staying away from me.”

“I can’t stay away from you but I have to.” JJ finished his sentence. Scratching the back of his neck , he refused to meet your eyes. “I just need some time.”

You blinked confused. Your heart squeezing. “Are you mad at me? What did I do? Is this about John B?”

JJ groaned. “This isn’t about John B! Nothing about this is about John B right now.”

He snapped at you and it took you aback. Your eyes widened , not expecting that from him. It made you frown and you took a step closer to him. “JJ please. . . tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just— because I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I love you.” JJ blurted. Now he was fully looking at you. “Okay? I love you. Not in the friend way. Not in a Pogue way. The in love with you way—” JJ suddenly felt the world lift off of his shoulders. It all started coming out like word vomit and he couldn’t stop it , but he didn’t want to either. “I love the way your hair gets all knotted up in the saltwater and it takes you hours to comb it out. I love that you wake up every morning and eat the same exact breakfast and makes sure everyone else in the house eats before they leave. I love that you love the animals and you care about nature. I even like you stupid little romance books that I pretend I hate hearing about when secretly I wish we were in our own love story. . .” he took a deep breath.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I met you , sweetheart and I’m trying to make it go away but it’s not.”

You were stunned. It all hit you at once and you stared. Mouth agape , eyes wide , and your cheeks flushed pink. It was the sweetest confession you had ever gotten , and the way JJ looked at you like you were the only girl in the world only added to the butterflies now swarming in your stomach.

“Why did you—” you stuttered , trying to figure out the words to say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have changed anything?” JJ said defeated.

“It would have changed everything.” You admitted.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen now or how to navigate the news. Though you did know that something changed. It would forever be changed.

And you were okay with that.

[unoislazy]

For Me?

Vi x Piltover! Reader

Vi deserves the world and a partner that cares about her. Being from Zaun comes with its insecurities when being with someone from Piltover. Luckily, you know exactly how to counter them.

A/N: You guys wont have to worry about that much angst from me for a while, I need to cope from act 3 by giving Vi the best life possible and all the fluff imaginable because oh my god??

There were times when you’d think back to when and how you and your girlfriend met for the first time. Such a chance of it happening was very slim given you two belonged to two different cities, you Piltover, her Zaun. You never thought the girl who rammed into you after fleeing from an explosion from an unauthorized lab would one day come back into your life. 

The story of your reunion however was quite the convoluted one. Once again, a meeting set by nothing but pure fate and chance. 

You weren’t supposed to be at Zaun at the time. In fact, you weren’t supposed to be in Zaun at all. You went on your own, against your family's wishes, for the sake of immersing yourself in a culture that is not your own. You were raised to believe that the people of the undercity were monsters, the filth under Piltover's feet, nothing more than animals. It never felt right to you, there had to be more to it. After all, they were people too.

So, you went to see for yourself how awful these “animals” really were. 

You knew better than to walk in expecting everything to be rainbows and unicorns, but you refused to let go of your optimism as you traveled around the labyrinth like maze of streets and alleyways. 

It wasn’t until the smell of a peculiar type of food filled your senses. 

You didn’t know what it was, it was very different from anything you had ever tried before, so you decided to check it out.  

Once there, you were greeted by a fairly jolly fish-like man with a large smile. He laughed heartily, gesturing for you to take a seat and gave you a list of things to choose from. There were so many options, you had no idea where to start, and it wasn’t until you heard someone else set directly beside you did you finally have an idea. 

You looked to your left and were quickly met with a head of bright pink hair. Quite a unique shade which you could’ve sworn you’d seen before, but you brushed the thought off. There were probably plenty of people with the same hair color, besides if there’s one thing you knew not to do in Zaun, it was to stare. 

You heard one of them, a woman, order something specific off of the fish man’s list, whom she referred to as Jericho. He happily took her order before turning to her friend who denied wanting anything, and then turning back to you. 

“I’ll have the same.” You said with a polite smile. Jericho nodded before turning around and getting right to work. As you waited, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the girl next to you once again, there was something familiar about her despite her back being turned to you for the most part. 

That was until her friend noticed you staring and began to pull her hood over her eyes which grabbed the pink haired girl's attention. She quickly turned around to face you with an angered look on her face, clearly ready to fight if need be.

“Can I help y-“ She began, but before she could finish it finally clicked with you. 

“You’re the girl.” You whispered, having not realized that maybe saying that to a girl who looked, for lack of a better phrase, like she could rock your shit, probably was not a good idea.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, clearly confused, but still clearly not happy about your interruption.

“That girl, from the explosion, that was you.” 

Her reaction to your realization was less than friendly, and you couldn’t blame her. You hadn’t known at the time but she had just gotten out of jail for that same crime. She didn’t know who you were, she didn’t know what you wanted, and she didn’t want to involve herself with more pilties than she needed. 

And yet despite everything, here she was, now living with you on her days when she wasn’t in Zaun. You had quite the rocky start in the beginning but you became useful to her quest for her sister, and the more time you spent with her, the closer you two got. At first she was a bit standoffish, not believing someone from topside was capable of showing so much empathy, if any. Yet somehow you proved her wrong. You chipped away at that stone wall she built around her heart all those years away in prison and became one of the few things she coveted most. 

You two didn’t live together all the time, but your house was always open to her as you had now managed to move away from your parents. You knew Vi could never stay topside for too long, and you’d never ask her to do such. So there were a few days here and there where she would stay with you, then go back to the undercity to continue to help out, then come back up with you.

Now today was the day for Vi to come back, so you decided to surprise her to the best of your ability with the dish she got from Jericho the day you two met once again. It was quite a feat that required you to go to the undercity a fair amount of times to visit Jericho and ask for help. Luckily the sweet man was more than happy to let you in on a few of his trade secrets for the sake of a thoughtful gift. 

You weren’t the biggest fan of this type of food, you’ve tried it on more than one occasion, but it very clearly wasn’t for you. 

But it was what Vi liked so that was enough. 

As you continued to cook, you heard your door open, without even needing to look you knew it was your partner walking through the door.

“Welcome back.” You greeted warmly. 

Just then, You felt two hands wriggle around your waist before the weight of her head rested on your shoulder. She tilted her head slightly, her face now moving towards your neck, enough for you to feel the light feeling of her breath wafting over your neck. 

You ignored the feeling to the best of your ability but you couldn’t ignore the small smile that made its way to your face, this of course didn’t go unnoticed by Vi as she mumbled against your neck, 

“What are you making?” She asked, pressing her body a bit more into yours. She had a tendency to be clingy after being away for long periods of time, which you didn’t mind. 

“Something new. Just got the recipe, I think you’ll like it.” You said with a smile, which earned a short chuckle from your girlfriend who turned to begin peppering light kisses against your neck.

“If it’s made by you Sunshine, of course I will.” She said sweetly, despite the fact she was trying to ‘discreetly’ distract you. It wasn’t actually very discreet but she thought it was and you weren’t going to correct her.

“It smells familiar.” She said quietly after pausing for a moment to look back over your shoulder.

“Means I’m doing something right then.” You said happily, glad that it was going well. Her confirmation that she at the very least was beginning to recognize it was enough to motivate you to continue. However despite your motivation it was clear your girlfriend still had other plans in mind. 

Her hands slowly began to move their way up from your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as her face remained by your neck. 

“Can I at least finish the food first?” You asked with a laugh as your left hand went up to lightly brush against Vi’s face, acknowledging what she was trying to do. 

She once again mumbled quietly against you before finally pulling away. 

“Fine.” She said with an overly dramatic sigh before continuing, 

“You’re no fun.” She teased as her hands slowly, reluctantly, left your sides as she moved to the counter next to the stove you were using to cook. She leaned the back of her waist against it, her arms crossed in front of her chest, as she looked at you with a look you could only describe as a lighthearted pout.

“Save that for later you just got back. You have to eat first.” You said in a somewhat stern manner, not looking away from the food cooking in front of you. 

“Who says I can’t have a bit of dessert first?” 

“Vi!” You exclaimed as you walked her softly with a cloth that you had placed by the stove. She laughed, a full genuine laugh, which she felt like she could only do near you. You were the only one to really bring it out of her at this point. 

“Just… go sit down, the food is almost done.” You instructed, turning back to the food as she chuckled once again before walking back towards you. Her hand made its way back to your waist once again as she leaned towards your ear,

“Can’t wait.” She whispered cheekily before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and walking towards the dining room. 

You, being from a family who had lived in Piltover for quite some time, were able to afford a house with multiple furnished rooms with ease. It always threw Vi off just the slightest bit, the difference in what the two of you grew up with. It got to her more than she’d like to admit. A few times she believed herself to be holding you back, you came from a life of glittering buildings, and she came from nothing but metal scraps. 

You were so different and yet you always managed to remind her that it didn’t matter. She loved you for you and you loved her for her, wherever you came from had no effect on that.

Vi sat down in one of the few chairs in your dining room, looking around at the paintings that littered the walls, her previous thoughts remaining on her mind before she was interrupted by a plate of food entering her view and landing in front of her.

“Tada!” You exclaimed into the silent room, the only other sound being that of the plate lightly hitting the table. Vi sat in silence for a moment as she looked down at the food before her, it took her a moment before she recognized it.

“Wait. Did you-“ She began to ask.

“Find the recipe to your favorite dish from your favorite food stand? Maybe.” You responded with a proud smile as you sat down in the chair next to her, eager to have her try it. 

“How did you get the stuff for it?”

“Well, I visited a friend.” You said with a shrug. Vi looked towards you, her eyes wide with shock. As each moment passed she realized just how much effort went into this one dish.

“You hate this kind of stuff, why would you-“

“Cause I know you like it and I wanted to make it for you.” You said simply as you placed your hand atop hers.

Suddenly Vi couldn’t think of a response. Her sudden silence worried you almost, was she mad? Was she upset at you? 

You then looked at her eyes and watched as they softened, the powder blue irises glistened as water lightly began to form in them.

“Holy shit.” She said quietly, entirely taken aback as she sat back in her chair. For someone with such a tough exterior you could see the walls slightly begin to crack as she looked down at the food before her. It meant more than the world to her that you had put so much effort into something she liked, for her, and for no other reason. 

Just because you cared.

It had been a long time since Vi had been truly reminded she was loved. Just having such a simple yet, such a powerful reminder in the middle of nowhere by the one person she truly loved was almost disorienting. You went out of your way to get ingredients you couldn't get easily in Piltover, a recipe you had to go to a specific stand for, her favorite stand no less, and then put it all together?

“Vi?” You asked quietly, your other hand going up the cup to her face so she would look at you a bit more as you looked at her with a bit of concern. You didn’t expect such an emotional reaction from your gesture that you were worried you had done something wrong.

“Are you o-”

Before you could finish your question, Vi had turned to you quickly and engulfed you in a hug. This took you completely by surprise. In the time that you and Vi had been together, more often than not when it came to specifically hugging, you were the one to initiate. She just never seemed like the hugging type unless it was an occasion where she truly meant it.

And in this case, she did. 

“Thank you, Sunshine.” She said quietly as she squeezed just a bit tighter. Your hands rested against her back as you smiled, feeling as if you had done a job well done even without her trying her dish. You knew Vi had been through a lot over the years and while you didn’t know the full extent of everything just yet, you knew you could at least try to offer her some sort of comfort. So that’s what you strived for and it seems like that's what you succeeded to do. 

Once she pulled back from the hug, you reached up to wipe her tears, the smile still present on your face as you spoke. 

“Well, are you gonna try it?” You asked, to which she smiled and let out a slight chuckle. She then eagerly turned back around towards her plate and dug in as she usually did in the undercity. She knew you didn’t care about the messy nature that often came with Zaun cuisine, even if it wasn’t what you were raised on, it meant a lot to her that you at least tried it out. With one taste she immediately released a sound of pure bliss and dove back in for more.

You laughed, knowing that was Vi’s way of saying you had done a perfect job, even if she didn’t pause from her eating to just tell you so herself. 

[makethatelevenrings]

Ubi Amor Ibi Fides (Where there's love, there's faith) // Lucius Verus x f!reader

summary: When he saw you that day, surrounded by a gaggle of children who begged you to tell them a story, he had no idea that the Fates had their own epic tale in mind of everlasting devotion. OR, contrasting vignettes of the past and the present through the eyes of Hanno and his wife.

word count: 13.2k

warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE!! 18+, war, blood, death, allusions to rape and what happens to female prisoners of war, allusion to desecration of a corpse, historical inaccuracy (if Ridley Scott can do it, so can I!), smut, Lucius being Down Bad for this wife, mythology and religion (with inaccuracies), discussion of suicide, suicide attempt, grief, throwing up, Roman culture???, period-typical misogyny but like, make it feminist

“Tell me a story.”

Exhaustion clouded his voice and you turned away from your weaving to find him leaning against the roughshod mudbrick door frame. It was days like today that you cursed his stubborn nature. While he had been willing to let you help in breaking in the ground for the coming harvest, your husband sent you inside by midday when the sun was at its highest. Now, you were rested and chilled by the wind that eased its way through the small house, and he was completely depleted.

“Come.” You beckoned him with an outstretched hand. “Rest beside me and then I will tell you.”

He didn’t argue, for once, and took your hand in his. You drew him down to sit beside you, his head settling in your lap. Your fingers curled into the soft, downy hair at his temples and he relaxed with a sigh. While you wished you could continue stroking his hair, the weaving in front of you wouldn’t be completed without two hands. As you went back to your work, you began to speak.

“There were once two lovers by the name of Pyramus and Thisbe…” He huffed out a quiet laugh. You smiled at him, delighted that it made him relax even further. Most of your stories were the ones he had told you about from his childhood and you weren’t really in the right mind to come up with a fresh story.

“The parents of our two lovers refused to let them marry, but their love reigned strong through the thin crack in the stone wall that divided their property.” As you spoke, you embellished the story with extraneous details and dramatic gasps, eliciting quiet chuckles from your husband. He looked weary these days and not just from the labor in the fields. The Romans were creeping closer, and it would only be a matter of time before they came to your city. You woke up last night to a cold bed and found him standing at the doorway, staring out towards the sea. He knew what was coming. You both did.

“The gods looked favorably upon their sacrifice and changed the tree to its dark appearance to signify the devotion between them.” You ended the tale and stopped your weaving for a moment to gently trace your fingers along the edge of his features. You loved the sharp crest of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the bright blue of his eyes. His lashes were so long that they left shadows across his cheeks when he shut his eyes.

“I understand why he did it,” he said softly.

“Hmm?” Your hand stroked over his curls once more as you thought through everything you needed to get done tomorrow. You paused, however, when you felt his face turn to see you better and his lips brushed against your palm.

“I understand why Pyramus ended his life.” His calloused palm covered your own and he turned your hand over, his fingers sliding along yours and intertwining. “One can only imagine the pain he must have felt.”

A painful squeeze built in your throat and you felt an awful burning sensation behind your eyes. He sat up and gently cupped your face in one of his large hands, drawing your gaze up to meet his.

“Hanno,” you breathed. He smiled softly and leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He was never one for words, always more inclined to act. Breaking apart, you pressed your forehead against his and breathed in the masculine scent of him tinged with soil, sweat, and something purely him.

“When death claims us, we go as one,” he vowed. “I cannot exist in this world without you.”

“As the gods see fit,” you assured him. “I will follow you wherever you lead.”

You wished this was a story.

It had been an easy day in the fields. You were sprinkling seeds in the ditches that Hanno dug earlier. The chickens clucked at you from their pen, begging for a bit more food as if they hadn’t been fed a hearty amount of grain earlier. After you planted these, Hanno would place the earth back over it while you worked on your herb garden.

You were capable of doing the hard, manual labor. Growing up, you would always help your parents through the entire process of planting, but Hanno was insistent on keeping his precious wife away from the heavy work. Rather, he encouraged your herb collecting and training with some of the city healers. You were grateful for him, truly. Most men would sequester their wives in their homes and work them to their deaths from labor, both of earth and child. 

But Hanno was different. 

He taught you to read, speak, and write in Latin. He would easily switch between Numidian, Phoenician, and Latin until you could respond perfectly. When he took breaks from tilling, plowing, and managing the harder tasks with the animals, he sat next to you at your garden and asked about the different plants. He was never cruel, never struck you or screamed at you the way you had heard other wives whisper to one another. In fact, Hanno was exceedingly kind to you and to anyone he didn’t view as a threat.

Which is why you thought this was a nightmare at first.

The horns of war sounded and you stood up straight to watch as the beacons erupted with fire at the top of the wall. Fear seized your heart and you stood frozen, transfixed, by the flames that licked the sky. Smoke curled off the top of them and the smell burned at your nose. You might have stood there all day if it hadn’t been for Hanno rushing out of the small house to your side.

“Come,” your husband instructed you. “We must get ready.”

He grasped your arm gently and it snapped you out of your reverie. Swallowing down your panic, you followed him into the house and to the small trunk he had made to hold your armor. The two of you silently donned your gear and were nearly finished when Jugurtha came to your door.

“My lord,” you greeted him with a slight bow. The chieftain’s face betrayed nothing, but you could see the worry in his eyes. Hanno and Jugurtha would be in the heat of the battle, directly in the path of the oncoming Roman fury. Would the gods listen if you sent them a prayer now? It felt as though they had decided to abandon you.

“The healers are gathering at Taklit’s house.” Jugurtha looked at the two of you, a hidden regret in his gaze. “We will come retrieve you once we have claimed victory.”

“Yes, my lord.” Your voice had softened as you realized how quickly this was all happening.

“I will join you soon,” Hanno replied. Jugurtha nodded and left, his imposing figure leaving an empty space in the doorway and in your heart. Needing a distraction, you turned and focused your attention on securing Hanno’s armor. As your trembling fingers finished tightening his armor, his hand enfolded around yours and he drew your fingers up to his lips. Hanno placed a delicate kiss on the tips of each finger. You searched his face to memorize every last detail, from the crinkles beside his eyes to the slight curve of his lip. Only the gods knew how this battle would end and the anxiety felt like it was going to swallow you alive.

“We go as one,” he reminded you. “I will not lose you.”

“Nor I, you.” His lips ghosted over yours and you leaned up, capturing him in a searing kiss. You poured every ounce of your devotion, fear, and worry into the kiss and he took it all onto his broad shoulders, shielding you from this world. His hand fisted in your hair and he pulled you impossibly closer so he could sink the weight of his devotion into every fiber of your being.

The gods had granted you this man as your husband. Perhaps they had not abandoned you yet.

“Be brave, my Hanno,” you whispered once you broke apart. He pressed his brow to yours and you breathed him in. “Be strong and be brave. And come back to me.”

The warm metal of his betrothal ring pressed into the skin of your cheek as he cradled your face between his hands. He kissed your forehead, his lips warm against your clammy skin. You savored the ring, this physical reminder of his tie to you, and touched the one that rested on your hand as a reminder of your tie to him.

“I will see you soon, my love.”

How bittersweet endings are, you thought to yourself as the walls of the city were seized by Romans. Men and women fell left and right from the parapets and you knew there was no help you could give them once their bodies hit the ground. Instead, you watched in horror as Roman soldiers grew closer and closer to where you were stationed and awaiting the wounded. You could see Hanno at the top of the wall fighting for his very life and your heart beat wildly in your chest at the sight of so many men around him falling in battle. Would he be next?

A cry of pain nearby alerted you to someone needing help. One of your people had been caught within the crosshairs of an archer and you rushed out of the house to grab them and drag them to safety. The child, only a mere babe, shrieked in agony as you dove to cover his little body when another arrow went sailing over your head. Even over the din of war, you heard Hanno scream your name. 

A Roman soldier grabbed you by your hair and yanked you up off the ground, forcing your back to bend sharply and a shout to emerge from your lips. He drew his sword, placing it to your throat with the intention of drawing your blood, your life, out of you with one swift pull. Despite knowing it wouldn’t help, you shouted your status in Latin.

“Healer! I’m a healer!” Perhaps he would be merciful. Perhaps he would let you go. Your eyes sought out the top of the wall and you saw Hanno desperately fighting to get to you, but he was too far away. The blade knicked the soft skin of your throat.

Two things happened simultaneously. One, a general pointed at you from the crowd and yelled at his man to stop. Two, Hanno was shoved off the wall and into the sea, right where huge rocks clashed with the waves.

A scream escaped you. A wail. War makes widows, your mother had said. And here you were, one of them. 

The soldier removed his blade and forced you up to your feet, shoving you back in the direction of the house. You scrambled to scoop up the child in your arms. If you could not save your love, maybe you could at least save a mother from grief.

The child died in your arms by the time you stepped into the healer house.

Numidia fell. Rome claimed victory and dominion over the land. Hanno was dead.

You busied yourself with tending to the wounded in hopes that you wouldn’t think about the fact that you were now under Rome’s control, a widow, and possibly homeless. What would happen next? Would they let you retrieve his body? Or would they throw him into a pile and burn it all along with the city itself?

A shadow fell over you as you tended to one of your own. You looked up to find the general gazing down at you. All at once, you were filled with hot rage and the deepest sorrow. You stood quickly, your hand reaching for a stray knife on the ground but he merely raised a brow. Right. What skill do you have against a Roman general?

“You’re a healer,” he said, not as a question. “And you speak Latin. How?”

“How do I heal or how do I speak Latin?” you spat. He remained stoic and you narrowed your eyes in suspicion. You would never reveal Hanno’s secrets. Not even under the threat of death.

“My husband is-” You stopped yourself and swallowed hard. “Was a merchant. He taught me so I could help him sell.”

“But you are a healer.”

You shrugged. “We do what we must.”

He studied you carefully and then nodded at one of his soldiers. A sudden bolt of terror struck you. Was this your future? To be a general’s plaything? A concubine? Some kind of bed warmer until he got back to Rome and disposed of you into the nearest brothel?

No. You were the wife of Hanno, a kind man and a good soldier.

“If you expect me to lay with you, I ask that you let me slit my wrists first so that I can die knowing I never let you take more from me than you already have,” you hissed. The soldier went to unsheathe his sword, but the general raised a hand to stop him. He took in your figure and the way you trembled with rage and grief.

“I need a healer,” he explained. “For my men. I will not touch you, for I am a married man, and you are a widow.”

He turned to the soldier once again. “Place her in chains and then put her in my room. Do not lay a finger on her, nor let anyone else.”

What choice did you have? If you defied them, you would be dead. If you went with them, you would have a chance to avenge Hanno before you died. Either way, you would join your husband in the afterlife. Going meant you had a chance to drag another life with you on the journey.

You dropped the blade and let the soldier lead you to the ships, not daring to look at the mass of bodies being piled up on the sand. Tears blurred your vision as you were hauled onto the ship. The keening wails of mourners raised above the fractured walls and you watched as smoke started to envelope the city. Just this morning, you had been thinking about spring planting and now you were a Roman slave.

What fresh hell was this?

The soldier clamped the heavy irons onto your wrists, connecting them together, and then attached two to your feet as well, forcing you into a shuffle as he then moved further below deck to a room. He tossed a thin blanket onto the wooden floor and pointed at it. You needed no words to explain that it would be your new bed.

When the door shut behind him, you fell to your knees over the chamber pot and promptly threw up everything in your stomach. An agonized sob tore from your lungs and you grit your teeth to silence the wail that threatened to emerge. You beat your fists on the hard, unforgiving wooden floor and wept silent tears, rocking back and forth in time to the crests and waves of the wailing mourners outside. Your people were subjugated. Your home was destroyed.

Your Hanno was dead.

Oh Thisbe, you thought as hot tears coursed down your cheeks. I understand. I understand. I understand. If I cannot shoulder this burden, then let the gods strike me down so that I may join him in peace.

“Tell us a story!”

The voices of children bubbled up over the crowd and Hanno looked up from sharpening his sword to find a woman surrounded. The kids eagerly mobbed her, their little heads bobbing up and down as they pleaded for her to tell them a tale. A basket balanced precariously on her head, but she seemed as though there was no worry about it falling.

But the thing that Hanno noticed the most was that she was completely and utterly beautiful.

“Who is that?” Jugurtha smiled at the young soldier’s question. He saw the way the woman captured his gaze. He knew that look in his eyes.

Jugurtha said your name quietly and explained how your family used to live on the outskirts of the city so they could accommodate a larger farm, but recent skirmishes in the area had wounded your father and drew you behind the walls of the city. Hanno had met your father before and made a mental note to visit the man and see how he was healing. Perhaps he would bring some fresh fruits from the merchants.

Jugurtha must have caught onto his train of thought because he called you over. The gaggle of children followed closely behind and you laughed, a sound that Hanno delighted in hearing.

“Are you interested in a story too, my lord?” You said in greeting. Jugurtha grinned and gestured for you to sit.

“You’ve been hard at work. Take a moment to rest and tell the children a story.”

With careful hands, you reached up and lowered the basket to the ground. Hanno could see it was full of various types of plants and fabrics. He had a million questions swirling around in his head. What did you do to pass the time? Where were you staying? Did you like it here? He stayed silent, however, as you slowly lowered yourself onto the ground. Your dress pooled around your legs and the coins on your shawl clinked against each other. What would you look like bare? He banished the thought as soon as it appeared.

“Come.” You beckoned the children to sit around you and gathered one of the youngest into your lap. The child reached up and played with the ends of your veil and you smiled down at her before beginning your story.

“Long ago, there was a queen of Numidia by the name of Kahina. When invaders came to Numidia to conquer us, she stood strong and fought them off with all of her might. Kahina was brave and smart, using both her strength and her mind to push the invaders back.” You launched into a tale filled with drama, some comedy, and even a bit of romance that had the kids shouting and cheering with glee. Hanno even stopped cleaning his weapons to sit and listen. He was enraptured by the way you kept the kids engaged as you weave your tale. The child in your lap started to drift off and you didn’t even hesitate before drawing her closer into your arms and cradling her.

“Queen Kahina is a reminder to all of us,” you declared. “That each of us has the power to stand up for ourselves, to do what’s right, and to be proud of who we are.” You gazed out onto the sea of little heads bobbing their agreement and then looked up to lock gazes with Hanno. For a brief moment, it felt like everything in the world went still. He scarcely knew he was breathing until Jugurtha nudged him. You tore your gaze away and offered a brilliant smile to the children. Clapping your hands together, you shooed them back towards the gathering of homes.

“Your mothers are probably wondering where you’ve gone off to. Now, go home and do some chores to help her out.”

“Oh, but we want another story!” One boy cried out. You huffed out a laugh and shook your head, your veils moving like buttery silk across your skin.

“Only if you finish your chores for the day. I will ask your mother and you know I will. Now, off with you!”

The children dashed off, leaving you with the sleeping babe in your arms. You slowly started to rise, intent on not waking her, when Hanno spoke.

“Here, let me carry your basket.” He stood and took the wicker basket from the ground so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying both child and items. You regarded him warily at first and Jugurtha had to hide his smile behind his hands.

Truth be told, you were one of the most desired women in the city. You were also one of the least trusting. Your mother desperately tried to set you up with suitor after suitor, but none met your standards. Your father laughed off your mother’s attempts and said that the gods would lead the right man to you. You were older than most women to be unmarried, but you remained steadfast in your belief that the right man would come someday.

And perhaps today was that day.

Jugurtha offered you a short nod to express his approval of Hanno and your suspicious expression melted somewhat. You turned and started to walk towards the village. When you realized that the handsome man with blue eyes wasn’t following, you glanced back at him.

“Are you coming or not?”

Hanno scrambled to catch up and quickly joined your steps, a smile cresting on his face as he asked you about how you were settling into the city.

Hanno cried when his mother sent him away. He sobbed when he fled his hiding place, cried on the boat crossing, and sniffled away into his sleep the first few days of living in Numidia. But he had never wept like he did when they tossed him into the hold of the ship with a Roman brand on his shoulder and a ring that felt infinitely heavy on his finger.

The last thing he saw before plunging into the sea was the blade sliding across your neck. Stuck between the two worlds of consciousness, he saw flickers of a wheatfield stretched before him and, for a moment, saw the outline of your body amongst the stalks. He reached out, his hand passing through where you stood, and then you disappeared from his grasp.

Coming to, he rushed from the sea and towards the city, but two Romans stopped him. He needed to find your body. He needed to see that you were buried properly. He was never as devoted to the gods as you were. You kept idols on the hearth and prayed regularly, but he only found himself turning to the gods at a time like this. But, right now, he found himself praying to Viduus, Libitina, and Proserpina.

Let her soul cross, Mercury. Bring her to the Fields of Elysium. Please. Tell her I will meet her on the other side.

He was forced to kneel next to Jugurtha, stripped of his armor and weapons, and watched as they loaded body after body into a pit. Jugurtha’s gaze never left the growing pile, even as he asked the question that Hanno dreaded.

“She’s gone,” he said, his throat raw from screaming your name across the battlefield. Did it hurt? He wondered. Was it instant? Did you feel pain? His sweet wife who dedicated her life to healing and helping died in such a brutal manner. His hands curled into fists as rage filled his veins. You were supposed to die at an old age, tucked in his arms and surrounded by your children. That’s what he planned that day so long ago when he walked you home, basket in his arms and a babe in yours. You dropped the child off with her mother and he refused to let you take your basket back, instead carrying it to your small house where he checked in on your father, met your mother, and charmed your whole family.

He craned his neck to see the dead lying a few feet away in hopes of catching a glimpse of any sign of you but there were too many dead. Too many lost. He saw the man he had bought silk from two days earlier. The midwife in the village. So many of the soldiers he had helped train.

Hanno glanced beside him and saw a fellow healer who was weeping openly. He leaned closer and asked if she knew anything about what happened to you.

“They took her,” she wailed. “They took her.”

Any grief that remained calcified into pure, hot rage. They took your body? For what sick purpose? To desecrate your corpse? To taint you with their hatred and their delusions of power, even when you were already dead? He started to rise, intent on seeking out your corpse and draping himself over it so that he would still be holding you when they killed him. Jugurtha stopped him with a shaking hand around his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” the leader lamented. “But not like this. This is not how you will die.”

Hanno’s eyes fixed on the man standing in front of the soldiers, in front of the keening mothers and children, in front of the men he had defeated and stripped of their armor to expose their humiliation. Hanno remembered the way he pointed directly at you, encouraging the soldier to keep the bloodshed continuing, and knew what Jugurtha meant.

He was going to kill him, and then he would reunite with you in the afterlife.

“Tell me a story,” Lulit encouraged as the two of you picked herbs from outside the city. The two of you rode out early this morning to gather herbs not grown in the village gardens. Lulit was with child and Jugurtha insisted on a guard coming with you and you glanced over at the man asleep at the base of the tree that the horses were tied to.

You paused for a moment to consider which tale you should tell. Recently, the only stories that came to mind were romances. Your face burned at the thought, but you knew why they were the only things that floated to your memory. A certain blue-eyed man had consumed every waking thought of yours and it was driving you mad.

He was a consummate gentleman and always found ways to visit your family. He started helping your father get his new trading business up and running in the city. He brought your mother fresh wheat to bake bread. He carved toys from wood and willow reeds for your siblings.

Hanno was the man of your dreams. He was exceedingly kind, handsome, and funny. He was sincere and wasn’t putting on some kind of face to impress you. He was just truly nice to everyone he met. You saw him once helping one of the elders bundle their wheat harvest and carry it into their house. Jugurtha had already come by and assured your parents of Hanno’s good nature.

He had started to teach you Latin and how to read and write Phoenician and Numidian. He told you stories from other empires and listened intently when you told him tales your grandmother had told you. The gods had indeed brought the right man, the perfect man. 

“Psyche was one of three daughters of a king and a queen of a far away land. She was renowned for her beauty and praised among the land as the second coming of the goddess of beauty. Her admirers would bring offerings and gifts to her, angering the goddess, who decided that Psyche must be punished.”

A thorn caught on your finger and you let out a hiss of pain as you brought your finger to your lips, sucking the blood away. You began to continue your work and your story when a horn trumpeted across the sky.

The sounds of war.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you immediately looked to Lulit. Her face had drained of color and she traded a worried glance with you. In the time you had lived here, the horns had never sounded.

“We need to move.” Despite being asleep moments earlier, Hanno was already leading the horses to the two of you.

“Who is it?” You knew better than to stall, especially when he wore such a serious expression. He helped you climb onto the back of your horse and paused for only a moment, one of his warm palms resting on your skirt-covered thigh.

“A small war party, by the looks of it. Nothing the defense can’t handle. But we need to get out of the way before they attack. There’s a forest just a few paces away, but we need to get moving.” He ensured that you and Lulit were secured before he climbed onto his own horse. Dust grew in the east and you felt your worry build with it. Hanno tugged at the reins of your horse, urging you to follow. You urged your horse into a gallop and kept close to him, but you still looked over your shoulder to gauge how close the marauders were.

“Hanno.” Your voice carried a warning and he looked back to see a rider closing in on them. He let out an expletive and pointed to the trees that were nearing with every step.

“Go! I’ll find you.” He slowed his horse and fell in line with you, his bright eyes meeting yours. “I swear to you.”

You swallowed against your rising panic and he sent you a reassuring smile before he turned his horse around and rode off in the direction of your pursuer. You looked back to watch as he drew his sword with expert ease.

Focus, you chastised yourself. You need to focus.

Lulit silently followed you as you led the way to the forest. Once the trees began to cloud your vision, you looked back and saw nothing but dirt and sky. He would be okay. He had to be.

Dismounting, you grabbed the reins of your horse and led her further into the forest until you came to a clearing with a good underbrush. You tied the horses and instructed Lulit to dig out some of the underbrush so she could lay down and rest while you brushed out the horses.

“Are we in danger?” she asked. Were you? You had no clue. But you set your shoulders and covered her with the blanket she kept on her saddle.

“Hanno would never let anything happen to us,” you told her. You settled down onto the soft grass next to her. “Let me continue my story. While Psyche’s sisters married, she found herself still unmarried and that worried her father who consulted a seer. The seer predicted an awful outcome for the beautiful daughter, one of a brutish husband in the form of a dragon who came to claim her and whom the gods feared. But truthfully, the goddess of beauty had been so enraged by the people’s devotion to Psyche that she sent her son to enchant her with a hideous creature, but instead found himself falling in love with her.”

Lulit curled up onto her side, cradling her growing belly with her hands as she listened raptly to your story. You spoke of the trials the lovers endured in their pursuit of one another, but as you began to wrap up the story, you found that she had drifted off to sleep.

A branch cracked nearby and you flinched. There was a small knife in your saddlebags that you used for foraging and silently, you crept over to your horse and retrieved it. The leaves rustled and you spun to face whatever beast dared to come close. You held your knife aloft and pointed it in the direction of where the noise was coming from. Oh, you were not brave. You were a farmer’s daughter and a healer. The most you knew with a knife was how to butcher an animal.

“You need to adjust your thumb to the other side,” Hanno said in greeting as he stepped through the forest and into the clearing. “It will give you better control.”

With a ragged sigh of relief, your shoulders fell from their tensed position and you dropped the knife onto the grass below. He stooped to catch it and studied the small blade with a hint of a smile. Droplets of blood stained his face and you carefully examined him for any sign of injuries.

“I am unharmed, my little warrior,” he teased. He rose and handed you the knife once more. “And I will make sure to teach you how to use that.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He could easily be lying. Father always brushed off your mother’s worries so as to not incite her own anxieties. Hanno raised his arms from his sides and slowly turned so you could see that he was indeed unharmed. His sword hung from its scabbard and you could see that blood still lingered on its surface.

“Are we safe?”

His eyes darkened and he stepped closer, his hands hovering over your waist. He searched your face for something, you weren’t sure, but dipped his head into a nod. “Aye. I would never let anything happen to you. To you or Lulit.”

“Then rest, soldier. Let me clean your sword.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but determination furrowed your brows and Hanno reluctantly unstrapped his sword from his side and handed it to you. This was a task you had witnessed your mother perform before when your father took on anyone trying to attack the farm. Blood was not a foreign thing to you, even if Hanno appeared to want to protect you from it.

You took a rag from your saddle pack and sat down by a tree. Hanno joined you, his back against the bark and his eyes studying the treeline for any disturbance. Slowly and methodically, you ran the rag over his blade and ensured that every last drop of blood and gore was cleaned from it. He searched your face for any sign of fear. Fear of what? Of him? A man who so willingly charged into danger to protect you engendered no fear from you.

“There,” you declared. “Good as new.”

He gratefully accepted the blade from you and placed it back in his scabbard. The sun was starting to set and the glow between the trees created a halo of light around you. He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair out of your face before curling his knuckles against your jaw and stroking his thumb over your cheek. You let your eyes flutter shut and leaned into his palm, savoring the rough drag of his calloused fingers against your soft skin.

You loved him. Oh, the thought made your heart race and you surged forward. He caught your waist in his calloused hands and let his lips meet yours in a breathless kiss. Hanno groaned against your touch and you pulled away, thinking he was hurt with some injury you hadn’t seen, but he merely cupped your face and pulled you back in so he could nip at your lips and soothe the slight sting with his tongue. You whimpered at his touch and kissed him once again, moving your hands down to trace along the hard lines of his chest. Your hand moved lower and Hanno quickly pulled away from you, one of his hands catching yours and tangling your fingers with his.

“Not yet,” he panted against your cheek. “Not yet.”

Dawn was breaking when you awoke. Your head rested on a blanket that you recognized as Hanno’s while your own draped over you, protecting you from the bitterly cold nights of Numidia. Your soldier sat wide awake and alert beside you and you could tell, from the fatigue weighing down his eyes, that he hadn’t slept a wink through the night. A silent sentry, guarding you and Lulit from any unseen danger.

The blanket fell from your shoulder as you began to sit up and he instinctively reached over to drag it back up your shoulder, bathing you in warmth from both the outside and surging through your insides at his tenderness.

You woke Lulit and the three of you rode back to the city, barely making it in time before a search party headed by Lulit’s husband went out. He wept when he saw his wife and swept her into his arms. Two men offered to take your horses to the stables to care for them and you graciously accepted. Hanno refused to leave your side until he deposited you at your doorstep.

It was still early but you knew your parents would be awake, both from their anxiety and their history as farmers. Your mother let out a shriek when she saw you approach and ran from the doorway to hug you. Hanno squeezed your hand once and made to step away, but you kept your fingers tightly entwined with his.

“I believe you have something to ask of my father,” you explained. His brows raised in surprise and you offered him a shy smile. As your mother ran back to the house to exclaim of your return, you raised your clasped hands so you could press a kiss to his dirt-stained skin.

“Are you sure?” His hesitation had nothing to do with you, but rather in his belief that he was not good enough for you. You laughed and started to drag him in the direction of the house.

“You foolish man.” A boyish grin lit up his face and he followed you inside.

“What happens to me once we reach Rome?”

General Acacius looked up from the letter he was writing and turned to face you. The floor barely made a comfortable place to lay your head, but he had at least given you blankets and removed the chains from your legs. They only went back on when you were on the deck, thanks in part to your failed attempt to jump overboard and sink into the sea.

“My wife will find a place for you in her house,” he explained. You scoffed and picked at the dried blood under your fingernails. You spent your days stitching up and tending to the wounds of Roman soldiers and spent your nights curled up on the floor of this room, dreaming of bright blue eyes and a crooked smile.

“Why? Couldn’t you just drop me off at the nearest brothel and let them rip me apart?” His compassion, minimal at best but still present, confused you. To him, you were barbarian scum. A conquered people. Prisoner of war, spoils, an artifact of his military prowess. He winced at your accusation, knowing that it was true for many military campaigns that the women were subjugated into the slave trade and forced into prostitution. The general refused to meet your eyes and you savored what little bit of power you held over him.

You could picture it now. You would demure yourself and behave in his wife’s house until you found a chance to slit her throat and leave him with the same raw, empty feeling that consumed you.

“You have skills that would be useful,” he muttered. “Your husban-”

“Don’t you dare speak of him,” you hissed. “My husband was a good and kind man. You do not deserve to speak of him.”

“He taught you well,” he continued on. “Lucilla could use someone with your skill set.”

The name made you pause and you tilted your head to the side, brows furrowing as you mentally ran through your memories. “Lucilla, daughter of Aurelius?”

He regarded you with suspicion. “Aye. How do you know of her?”

“Everyone knows of Marcus Aurelius,” you retorted. “I’d be a fool not to.”

A sudden knock on the door drew his attention away from you and he rose to answer it. General Acacius left the room to sort out some sort of issue and left you alone with your thoughts. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested your cheek against your folded arms. If you shut your eyes, you could see his face. If you thought hard enough, you could feel him in your dreams. The rough stubble of his beard. The high plains of his cheekbones. The crooked smile he gave you when he made you laugh.

Lucilla, daughter of Aurelius, you ran the words over and over in your head. Aurelius. Aurelius.

You could only hope that Hanno would forgive you if you delayed your joining with him in the afterlife for a little bit longer.

He slept fitfully on the ship and in the cages. He dreams of your eyes, your laugh, your smile, and wakes with your name on his lips in a strangled cry that he buries into his bicep and lets only a few tears leak out onto his battered skin. 

He has nightmares most nights and the lack of sleep fuels his rage. Dark circles take hold under his eyes and weariness leaves red rims around his blue pupils, making him appear as the wild barbarian they purport him to be. His muscles ache and scream and bruises litter his torso. He bites a monkey back and savors the burning anger that courses through his veins. The crowds cheer and shout and applaud his fury, but he pays them no mind. All he focuses on is going back to his cell and dreaming of you once more.

Killing men has never been an issue for him. He was raised a fighter, even in Numidia where he helped Jugurtha lead their forces. He fought in skirmishes and battles. When he met you, it brought another reason to keep the fight going. He refused to let a single person pass into the gates of the city when you were seeking protection inside. He had failed you, and every new scar on his body was merely penance.

Ravi chastises him for the way that he seeks out injury, but the man doesn’t refuse to help him. In an opium-fueled haze, Hanno tells him quietly that his wife was a healer. She was exceedingly kind and gentle. Too gentle for him. He was scared he would break her with his brutish nature, but she was also enduringly strong. A stray tear slips down his cheek and he tosses the opium aside in favor of feeling the pain and knowing that it pales in comparison to the ache in his chest. His grief builds and compounds into this sickening version of him that he cannot recognize. The blood of other men stains his skin, no matter how hard he scrubs in the baths. Even when the iron-thick substance is gone, he can still see it.

Macrinus brought the finest courtesans by his cell, but he refused them everytime. Once, the girl shared a similar hair color as you and he invited her into his cell, but merely let her rest on his cot while he sat at his desk and sketched what he could remember of your face on thin papyrus.

When he looked into the stands and saw your murderer seated with his mother, his rage calcified into his heart. With every kill, he pictured your pale face crying out for him. With every breath, he reminded himself of his failure to protect you. His mother had the audacity to reason with him.

“Do you have a family?” Lucilla asked.

He says your name with the reverence afforded to the gods and then hisses out that you were dead and taken from him by her husband. How dare she try to call her son home when she shares a bed with that monster? Ferality consumed him and his thirst for revenge. He meant what he said to Macrinus. Only Acacius’ head will quench this fire in his blood. For a sickening moment, he wants his mother to feel the way he does.

There are times when the night is darkest that his mind descends into the throes of the deepest depression and he wonders about how you would feel if you saw him like this. There is one nightmare that plays over and over again in his mind. He is in the Colosseum and the crowd is cheering in their bloodlust. The gates open and he steps out to face his next opponent, only to find you standing in the sand with your hands outstretched towards him. In this dream, he can’t stop himself from raising his blade an-

He woke up screaming.

Hanno doesn’t trust Macrinus within an inch of his life, but he trusts that he’ll bring him Acacius and that…that will be enough.

“Can I tell you a story?” Hanno whispered into your hair.

The wedding was an all-day event. You looked resplendent with flowers woven in your hair and layers of colorful fabric adorning your body. It felt as though the whole city came out to celebrate your union and the dancing, food, and music flowed for hours. Jugurtha clapped his hands on Hanno’s shoulders and congratulated him. A knowing glint flashed in the older man’s eyes and Hanno was eternally grateful for the man’s meddling.

Your father had tears in his eyes when he took your hand from his and placed it into Hanno’s, but they were tears of joy. When discussing the marriage negotiations and dowry, your father declared that there was no one greater for his daughter. In his vows, Hanno promised to protect and provide for you until his very last breath, one that he would take with you in his arms at an old age, with your children around you.

As the night grew longer, the crowds began to thin out. Parents took sleeping children home and the elders slipped away so they could rise early and start their daily chores. The fires began to burn low and Hanno looked over to you, only to have his breath catch in his throat at the realization.

His wife. His wife. Your lovely face was now his to wake up to every morning and your sweet laughter was his to elicit. Izim was telling some tall tale about his adventures as a sentry, but Hanno didn’t hear a single word. He ignored the hoots and hollers of his fellow soldiers and friends as he left their group and strode towards you.

The women around you tittered and giggled as he approached and it drew your attention away from whatever Seble was telling you. You barely had time to react when he suddenly scooped you into his arms. Hanno easily cradled you to him, your long veils swirling around the two of you, and he made his way towards the new house he had built with the help of your father and a few friends. The party cheered and you hid your laughter into the crook of his neck.

Hanno stopped in the doorway and set you gently onto your feet so you could examine your new home. Someone, your mother, you presumed, had already set some lanterns alight in the house and a clay jar of flowers sat on the small wooden table in the center of the room. It was a small house with the bed on one side and a small kitchen on the other. You traced your hand along the furniture that you knew he constructed himself. Your dowry chest laid at the foot of the bed already and a loom was on the wall. Your husband had done all of this.

The word made your throat squeeze with a level of affection you had never experienced before. He watched you carefully from the doorway, but you could see tension in the line of his shoulders and how his hands fidgeted until he clasped them behind his back. The flames from the lanterns made his eyes glow and heightened the smooth planes of his face. You reached up and unclasped your veils, letting them pool at your feet before you took a step forward.

He met you halfway, his hands going to settle on your waist as you nestled into his strong arms. Your hands came up to rest on the rough fabric of his tunic and you could feel his heart beat wildly under the tips of your fingers.

“My husband,” you breathed to the heavens. You wanted the gods to know that this man was yours. He had placed an iron ring on your finger and you savored the weight of it, the press of it against your skin. Hanno’s lips lifted in the barest hint of a grin, but his eyes took on almost burning intensity.

With nimble fingers, you released the clasps of his tunic yet kept your gaze locked on his as the fabric pooled to the ground. Hanno’s breaths grew ragged as you settled your hands back onto the chiseled muscle of his chest. For a moment, nothing happened. You just stared at one another as the air electrified with palpable energy. You had no idea where this boldness emerged from, but you slid your hand down his bicep, along his arm, and then to his wrist where you clasped it and raised his hand to rest on your breast. He swallowed so hard you could see his throat bob and just the simple evidence of his arousal made your skin burn.

“My wife,” he said hoarsely and untied your dress.

Hanno sucked in a shuddering breath as the fabric fell away from your body and joined his on the floor. He stroked his hands over your quivering flesh and stepped forward so that his body pressed against the length of yours. You felt him harden against your thigh as he leaned down to capture your lips in his. The two of you had kissed plenty of times, from small chaste pecks to that heated moment in the forest, but this felt entirely new and you welcomed it. He nibbled at your lips and explored your mouth with the desperation of a dying man searching for water. You moaned your approval which encouraged him and he let one of his hands drift down to cup your breast.

Hanno’s touch made your skin light on fire with every simple brush. How were you supposed to act when the man strutted around shirtless most of the time and built your house? Some of the older women in the city gossiped about their husbands. They told you about how it hurt, about the way he took without giving, and how they hated it.

From the delicate way Hanno touched you and the tender press of his lips against your pulse point, you knew that this would be different. He bent down and hauled you up against him, your legs wrapping around his waist for security, but you knew he would never drop you. You slid your arms around his neck, pulling your chest flush with his and he let his head fall back with a sinful groan, exposing the column of his throat. Eagerly, you licked a stripe up against his sweat-tinged skin and savored the taste of salt, musk, and man.

“By the gods, you will be the end of me, my little wife.” His teeth enclosed around the hinge of your jaw and you let your head fall to the side with a little sigh. Hanno nipped at the skin of your neck and you jolted against him, causing his throbbing cock to brush against you. Hanno squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation that wracked his body and you turned your head so he was facing you. Running your thumb along his jaw, you pulled your husband into another kiss and then pulled his bottom lip between your teeth. He sucked in a sharp breath and his hold tightened on you, sending a zing of pain mixed with pleasure down your spine.

“Take me to bed, husband,” you panted against his mouth. “Claim me as yours.”

Furs and silk lined the bed and softened your fall. You marveled at the way he prepared everything for you, even bringing over the blankets you wove for your marriage chest and setting them on the bed. He planted himself over you, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he took and you stole a glance down his broad chest to the heavy manhood that stood proud between his thighs. Your body pulsed with want even as your mind protested the idea of taking his length. He sensed your apprehension and leaned down to place a gentle kiss against your temple, your brow, both eyelids, and then your lips once more.

“I cannot promise it to be painless,” he said. “But I will do everything in my power to make sure you find bliss too.”

One of his hands snaked down to your most intimate place and your eyes widened with shock as he brushed the pad of his finger along the seam of your cunt. Your legs spread further apart instinctively and he kissed you in thanks for your invitation. A gasp escaped you as one of his fingers slid past your entrance and he kissed away your shock, even as you felt the rough and calloused pad of his finger slide up and press against some part of you that had you seeing stars. A little whimper from you had him pausing and he immediately pulled his hand away, eliciting a low whine from his wife. Hanno couldn’t stop his cocky smile that spread across his face before he touched that part of you again. His finger drew a circle over your flesh and your hips canted up, a mewl spilling past your lips and your breath catching. He stole a kiss, then another as he sent electricity up your spine and shocks scattered through your bones.

“You are magnificent,” he murmured just as he slipped another finger into your aching cunt. For a moment, you felt a hint of discomfort and bit your lip to refrain from making a sound. Hanno frowned and pulled your lip out from between your teeth. Some small part of you whispered ugly words and lies into your mind in an attempt to push his affection away. He only wanted you because other men did. You were merely a token to conquer. He needed a wife before he could get a concubine.

“Let me hear those pretty sounds.” He kissed the corner of your lips and you turned your head to see him properly once more. His eyes burned with a hunger you had seen before like in the forest or when he saw you carry one of the village babes on your hip. Hanno cheek pressed against your own and he whispered into your ear as he sank one finger into you and then two. He told you how proud he was of you, how good you were for him, how precious you were, as he pulled little cries of pleasure from you. You tightened around his fingers and he leaned back and watched your face as your body twitched and seized with the electric shocks of pleasure. A proud smile captured his face and he craned his head down to kiss you again and again and again. You climbed higher, higher, higher but then he abruptly pulled his hand from you, leaving you empty and aching. 

“I know, I know,” he groaned in that deep timbre bass that wracked through your body. Hanno rubbed a gentle circle into your outer thigh and shifted himself until he was kneeling between your spread legs. He grasped his cock in one hand and pressed his other hand to your hip, holding you in place under his heavy gaze. You squirmed as his eyes raked down your naked body and the little thoughts began to creep in once more, but he silenced them with one word.

“Divine.” Hanno leaned down and laid the flat of his tongue along your cunt. Your back arched off the bed with a choked out gasp and for a moment, you thought you died and entered the afterlife. He chuckled against your inner thigh and pressed a kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his heels. He stroked his thick length twice before moving closer to you. He nestled his face against your hair and inhaled the sweet scent of rose petals. His cheek rested on your temple, and he shocked you with his question.

“Can I tell you a story?”

You choked back a laugh and kissed the shell of his ear. “I suppose.” While you were the typical storyteller, you would always accept whatever he gave you.

“There was a king of the island of Ithaca by the name of Ulysses*. He was sent to fight in the Trojan War and on the way home, was blown off course. The journey home took over ten years and was filled with countless obstacles and dangers.” You gasped as the blunt head of his cock slid past your entrance and Hanno inhaled deeply. “Odysseus had a wife, the queen of Ithaca, named Penelope. A hundred suitors from the various lands and tribes came in an attempt to woo her and take her hand in marriage. Everyone thought Odysseus to be dead.”

He rocked his hips and his thick length began to split you open and your lips parted in a silent moan. Any air that was in your lungs seemed to evaporate as he filled you fully. Hanno swallowed your shaky whimper with a sweet kiss. You clawed for purchase against his chest, your limbs liquifying when he pulled out. Hanno caught your hand in his and flipped your hand over so he could pepper kisses along the inside of your wrist.

“Penelope was a devoted wife and ever faithful. She never doubted that Odysseus was alive and would come back to her. She lied to the suitors and told them that she would marry them when she finished weaving a funeral shroud. But she undid her work each night.” This time, his intrusion didn’t have the burn like the last thrust. Instead, his cock dragged against your walls in such a way that had your eyes rolling back into your head.

Hanno groaned as he started a steady thrust of his hips. He moved your hands above your head and entangled his fingers with yours, squeezing them in assurance as he fucked you. The pleasure burned so hot in your stomach and consumed your entire being. Everytime he thrust in, it felt like he was carving you out and branding you with his claim and oh, how you wanted this. He built this house for you and your future and even though he put a roof over your head, you saw stars with every touch against your skin.

“Ha-Hann…” You whined as he hit a certain spot that made your head spin. “Hanno.”

He frowned and slowed his thrusts and he touched your cheek, his thumb rubbing away the tear that you didn’t realize slipped down. “Does it hurt?”

You yanked him closer until his nose was touching yours. Your legs wrapped around his hips and he bottomed out in surprise.

 “Don’t you dare stop.” He grinned that reckless, crooked smile of his and swept your lips into a bruising kiss as he fucked every last thought out of your head. His name became a prayer that you chanted to the skies as he took you higher and higher until that coil that wrapped in your stomach snapped. You clenched around his cock and your body seized up as your orgasm washed over you. Hanno let out a guttural, animalistic groan and he spilled his seed into you, flooding you with warmth.

Silence enveloped the two of you, only the heavy exhales from exertion permeating the bubble that surrounded you. Hanno’s body relaxed and he caught himself before he put all of his weight on you. Rolling to the side, his arm came up to curl around your front, and he pulled you to his chest. Nose to nose, you met his gaze and let your breath mingle with his.

“Penelope didn’t falter in her devotion,” you said hoarsely. “Did she?”

His hand drifted up and down the raised gooseflesh on your arm and he reached over to draw one of the furs over you. “Aye, she didn’t.”

You tossed the edge of the fur over him and kissed him once again. “I will always remain steadfast.”

His lips met your temple and he tucked your head under his chin. “And I shall always come for you. No matter what it takes.”

Acacius lead you into the villa, the shackles and a new plate around your neck indicating your designation as slave. Lucilla immediately greeted him with an embrace and you looked away, your heart shattering at the sight. Quiet words were exchanged between the two before Acacius paused and stepped back to display you.

“She is from Numidia,” he explained. “She has skills in healing and I felt she would be a good addition to the household.”

Lucilla approached you and took in your sorry state. You felt bile rise in your throat as you bowed your head to the woman, but she stopped you with a raised hand.

“What is your name?” she asked you in Phoenician. You paused before answering her in your second tongue. That’s when you saw her eyes and realized, with a jolt, that she was indeed the woman you had heard of.

“Leta,” Lucilla called for another slave. “Come. Show her to the baths and give her a fresh chiton. Acacius, unchain her.”

He obeyed his wife’s command, but the slate remained. Perhaps you would wear it for the rest of your, hopefully short, life. Leta, an older woman, silently beckoned you to follow her deeper into the villa where a few slave women were gathered together over a pool of warm water.

“Who is this?” one of them asked in Latin.

“A Barbarian whore for the general, I presume,” Leta replied. “He brought her from Numidia. Thing hasn’t had a bath in her whole life.”

You remained silent, hands clasped before you, even as Leta pointed towards the bath. “You. Wash.” You pretended not to understand and she huffed out an annoyed breath and marched off, leaving you to strip out of your ruined and bloody dress from home and step into the water. You didn’t want to wash the gore off of your skin. Not when it was your last reminder of home. Of him.

Taking a moment to look around, you tried to picture what it was like living here in all its splendor. Leta returned and tossed a dress for you onto the edge of the tile and you stared at it blankly. She turned her back to you and started to gossip with the other girls. Your hands scrubbed at your skin, but your ears picked up all that they were saying. Gladiator games, senators, the emperors, it was all banal and boring.

But you found it all invaluable.

When night fell, you slipped out from the tiny cot you had been given in the slave quarters and silently made your way through the halls. Mosaics lined the walls and depicted everything from myths to actual battles. You stopped at the bust of Marcus Aurelius and stared at it for a moment. Shaking your head, you moved on to the hall that everyone had pointedly walked past and Leta explained was off-limits. Or as she said, “no touch”, because she thought that your supposed inability to speak Latin was also an indication of your idiocy.

You pushed open the doors and entered the chambers. Dust covered every inch of the place, as if no one had been in here for years. You carefully made your way over a broken tile and into the bedchamber where the sheets were still unmade and a book lay open on the desk. Turning slowly, you took in the whole of the room with an unsteady inhale.

“The gates of hell are open night and day,” you whispered under your breath. The words were etched onto the top of the wall. “Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.” As you spoke, you could almost feel the presence of him at your back, his rough and low voice breathing the words into your ear.

You fled from the room, unable to bear it.

You almost made it back across the atrium when Lucilla emerged from seemingly out of nowhere. The two of you paused and you quickly lowered your head in deference.

“I hope you weren’t trying to escape,” she said gently. “Acacius told me that you were recently made a widow.”

The wince on your face was visible even in the moonlight and she stepped forward, her hands clasping over yours in comfort. She spoke her next words in Latin. “I am sorry. These meaningless deaths are foolish emperors playing war without considering the human cost of it.” The older woman patted your hand and made to leave, but your voice stopped her.

“Your slaves do not respect you,” you spoke in Latin. “Leta spreads vicious rumors about you and she said she has ties with some of the senators. Your allies are playing you and your plan is shaky at best.”

She whirled around to face you and you jutted your chin out in defiance, your eyes flashing with something dangerous. “In Numidia, my husband was the soldier, Domina. But I was the politician.”

Macrinus delivered on his promise. Acacius faced off with four soldiers in the Colosseum before Hanno was given a taste of vengeance and oh, did he savor it. Acacius ordered your death. Now, Hanno had the chance to ensure you were honored properly.

But Acacius stood across from him, sword on the ground, and accepted his death with a stoicism that Hanno only dreamed of possessing. The crowd roared and swelled with indignation after Hanno demanded to know their morals, but he was ushered away before he joined his father in dying in this ring.

He was granted the chance to see his mother one last time before her execution for treason and his slaughter in the arena. Lucilla told him of his father and he remembered meeting Maximus and how kind he was, even in the jaws of death. When his mother meets him for the last time, his only thought is how much Lucilla would like you.

She gave him two gifts in parting.

One, his grandfather’s ring.

Two, a lock of hair. And not just any…

Lucilla smiled sadly. “Acacius took her from Numidia to be a healer and didn’t realize she was your wife. She is safe, Lucius, and under the care of my household. I’m afraid I put it together too late, and she isn’t aware that you are here.”

For a moment, the rage subsided and he heard only a shrill ringing in his ears, as though he took a heavy blow to the head. Lucius turned the hair over in his hand and raised it to his nose, smelling a faint hint of rose petals.

I shall always come for you. No matter what it takes.

His mother was taken back to his cell and he took a moment to curl his palm around this fragment of you and press it to his chest to guard it from the world.

And then he called for Ravi.

Your hands remained steady when you slit Leta’s throat. You did so quietly, in the darkness of an alleyway. Blood never fazed you before, and the taking of a life was no different now. As far as you were concerned, this woman was one of the reasons why your Hanno was dead. Was it a rational thought? Perhaps not. But rationality would come another day.

The Colosseum roared with fury and you tried not to flinch at the deafening sound as you slipped in through the gates below, into the pens with the animals and gladiators. Chaos reigned above and below the world’s largest stadium so it was easy to blend in with others. The cloak you stole from Leta made you appear to be a fellow slave working amongst the masses. It never failed to amaze you how they called you a barbarian when they fought men to the death for their entertainment.

Your fingers skated over the smooth wood that curved over your spine and you felt a little better knowing that it was on you. The games were already underway with a few prisoners being devoured by Barbary lions as the crowd screamed for their blood to spill. You slipped around a few courtesans that lingered in the hall and passed the raised dais where three maidens were chained. Pushing on, you found a small corridor that was unoccupied and slipped in between the stones to hide from any roaming eyes.

The noise increased and you knew what was coming. Lucilla would be executed and Macrinus was to blame. The lanista was the mastermind of all of this, and you knew firsthand what war could do to people. You refused to let Lucilla die and, as much as you hated the Romans for what they took from you, the innocent children in the streets would die.

After this, you promised yourself, you would join Hanno.

Footsteps rushed past your hiding spot and when it quieted down in the hallway, you took that as a chance to peek out and see if you had an opening. You slipped out into the hall and darted towards one of the gates that was partly open. A bloodbath was the only word to describe what was happening in the Colosseum. You blanched at the sight of Lucilla tied to the dais, but it seemed as though the gladiators had it well in hand.

Removing the bow from your back, you notched an arrow onto the string and inhaled deeply. Macrinus was not hard to stop, thanks to his place behind Emperor Caracalla, but you didn’t have a clear shot. The crowd was turning on the Praetors and more soldiers entered the Colosseum on horseback. One Praetor nearly took the head off of a gladiator and you turned your bow in that direction.

Breathe in, aim, fire as you breathe out, Jugurtha had instructed. Keep your arm steady, your aim true, and your mind clear. There is no time to panic, just shoot.

The arrow sailed through the air and straight through the Praetor’s shoulder, knocking him off his horse and to the ground. You drew another arrow and started to aim towards Macrinus once more, but this time he was standing up. Caracalla was slumped over dead in front of him and Macrinus had his own bow in his hand.

Numidians were excellent horsemen and archers. Before you ever met Hanno, before you even bled for the first time, you were trained in the art of horsemanship and archery. Indeed your husband vowed his protection, but you were not one to go down without a fight. He taught you how to manipulate a knife, where to aim on the body, but Hanno never came close to your familiarity with a bow.

Your next arrow arched through the air and collided with Macrinus’ shot. The wood splintered midair and you loaded a third, but the lanista fled the stands before you could take another shot. It gave a gladiator the chance to free Lucilla and pass her to another gladiator, a hulking beast of a man. The gladiator gave chase to Macrinus and you focused your attention on your subject at hand.

There had to have been a reason the gods kept you alive and took Hanno. Clearly, it was to protect your husband’s mother.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re hiding from me?”

His hand stilled from where it had been absentmindedly stroking your thigh. Hanno came home from the field and immediately drew you into his lap, inhaling your sweet smell and letting his hands roam all over your body. You savored his touch, but marriage had sharpened your mind regarding his mannerisms. Something was bothering him.

Hanno sighed and he nuzzled his nose against your shoulder. You let him have this moment, but you would weasel the truth out of him, someway or another.

“Is it another woman? A concubine?” you asked, your voice hushed and wounded. He laid a kiss against your skin and shook his head.

“Rome is moving closer,” he finally said. You turned so you could see his face and cupped his chin, drawing his head up to meet your gaze. He blinked up at you with those sky blue eyes of his and nestled into your palm until he could lay a gentle kiss there.

“My name, my real name,” he whispered, “is Lucius Verus Aurelius and I am the prince of Rome.”

The first thing he did after ascending his rightful place as Emperor of Rome was go to his mother’s villa.

Lucilla was fine, a small gash on her bicep and shaken up, but fine. He tried to be a good son, but she could tell his focus was on anywhere but her. Lucilla directed him to the gardens and that is where he found you.

The Roman dress was different from what he was used to seeing, but you still covered your head with a veil when praying to your gods. Head tilted towards the heavens, hands outstretched, you made a beautiful image of devotion.

Your feet inched closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Forgive me, my love, for being so weak that I could not do this sooner,” you said. Tears coursed down your cheeks and stained the fabric of your chiton with damp tracks. You muttered a mixture of prayer and apology and he strained to hear it.

“Give me the strength to commit this final act, oh gods, grant me this. I have protected his mother and granted her the life he was not spared. Please, oh Hanno, let me see you in the afterlife. I am tired, so tired of only seeing you in my dreams.”

“Step back from the edge, my heart.” His voice came out in a tremble.

“Hanno,” you whispered. “Forgive me for being so weak. Forgive me for failing you. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been nothing but strong.” A ferocity claims his words. “Step back from the edge.”

“We made a promise,” you pleaded. “We go as one. Let me join you, please.”

You raise one foot over the rocky cliff and he lashed out before he could think. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back so hard that the both of you tumbled to the ground. Quickly, Lucius kneeled by your side to search for any injury.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered. This was the afterlife. It must be. You obeyed his command to find those bright blue eyes that haunted your dreams.

“Am I finally dead?”

“Not for a long, long time.”

No, this wasn’t the afterlife. Blood caked his skin and scars littered his bare arms. He had been muscular before but now he appeared to be only thick, corded muscle. Your hands came up to rest on his neck and you examined his face. The same freckles. Same lines by his eyes. Same long eyelashes.

Trailing your hands down along his arms, you skirted around the obvious injuries he had until your fingers brushed something new, something entirely foreign to you that resided on his shoulder.

A brand.

And with that, the dam within you shattered. The wails of a widow finally escaped your chest and you let out an agonized scream as you curled in on yourself. Hanno gathered you into his arms and buried his face into the crook of your neck. Hot tears slid down his cheeks and onto your skin. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on the armor that still adorned his body and you eventually settled on cradling the back of his head with one hand and grasping his forearm with the other.

“I am so sorry,” he wept. “If I had known you were alive, I would have come for you sooner.” He wrenched the slave plate from your neck and kissed the places where the chain had rubbed your skin raw.

All the agony of grief and rage and terror from the last month spilled out of him in broken, gasping sobs. His precious wife was alive and in his arms. Numidia had fallen, but now he had the chance to protect her with all the power and might of Rome. He could now have armies at his beck and call, coffers of coins brought to him, and enemies assassinated but the true power laid in his arms.

His little wife was right. He was the soldier, the muscle, the physical strength. But the reason he fought and killed, the reason he kept going even when every part of his body screamed to give up, was because of her. As far as he was concerned, she had the power to raze cities and command armies. All she had to do was ask him.

“Is this real?” you breathed once your sobs and trembling ceased. He pulled you into his lap and almost began crying once again at the feel of your supple body against his.

“It’s real,” he assured you before he bent down and kissed you. Despite the blood that coated his skin, you savored the taste of him. You never thought you would get this again. Maybe the gods did bless you.

He kept you pressed against his side as you made your way back into the villa. One of the slaves nearly dropped her tray at the sight before her and ran to grab Lucilla. The stately woman swept into the courtyard and met you both there.

“Lucius,” she exclaimed. “I take it that this is your wife.”

“Yes.” His gaze never strayed from your face. “This is her.”

You instinctively went to bow to Lucilla but she stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“You are not my slave any longer,” she assured you. “Not only did you save my life, but you are now my daughter and also Augusta.”

Hanno, Lucius, you reminded yourself, stood in all his resplendent glory, covered in dirt and blood with his gladius hanging from his sheath. How different the two of you were now, yet still fit like the gods made you for each other. Your small house was gone. Your home was subjugated. Your family and friends in the afterlife. But Lucius was still here and still breathing. That made it all worth it.

He might be the Emperor of Rome now and you, the Empress, but he was still your charming soldier, your devoted husband. This, you decided, would make an excellent story someday.

[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part three)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: roughly 1.4k words

PARTS: ONE, TWO

As soon as you left Hayward’s office, Agatha started furiously typing on her phone, the crease between her brows growing deeper with each step out the building. You simply followed; uncertain of what else you were meant to be doing right now. Packing, you supposed. But your first priority was to get some information out of the woman, who was currently on a mission to remove herself from the building, striding at least three steps ahead of you at all times.

It wasn’t until you were both sitting in the taxi that you finally had the chance to speak. “So…” You started, paused, then realised she wasn’t going to put her phone down anytime soon. You sighed. “We’re going to Salem?”

“Unfortunately,” Agatha murmured. “If I can get in contact with my mother, that is.” She spat, resuming her frantic typing.

You scowled, leant closer to peak at the phone screen and tried desperately to ignore the way her perfume pleasantly filled your nostrils. Something about being in close proximity with Agatha was mesmerising. It always had been, but it seemed this latest situation was worsening your complex feelings towards her. If someone asked you to label it, you would say admiration, but deep down you knew it was something greater than that. You simply refused to acknowledge it.

“So, you weren’t originally going to visit?”

Despite having to be involved in Agatha’s life, you had never heard her talk about her family. Not once. It didn’t surprise you. It was near impossible to picture the woman in any scenario other than sitting behind a desk, winding up one of your coworkers for their incompetence, or shmoozing a business deal. Although you imagined her prickly personality had to come from somewhere, and shuddered to think what her mother might be like.

“No.” Agatha scoffed. “I try my best to stay as far away from family gatherings as possible.”

“I’m guessing you’re not close…?” You questioned, slow and cautious.

“God no.” She shook her head, strands of hair coming loose from the vehement movement. “I want nothing to do with my mother and her coven of freaks.”

You tutted, suppressing a smirk at her colourful choice of language. But instead of pursuing the topic further, you turned to look at the scenery flying past the window. “Shouldn’t have mentioned it to Hayward then…”

“Well, with your parents ever so conveniently out of the country, it did appear suspicious that we wouldn’t tell a single soul.”

“Could’ve eloped.” You murmured.

“Sorry, darling.”  Agatha droned; her tone petulant. “Next time I’ll set us up a nice horse-drawn carriage down to the registry office.”

You took in a deep breath, ignoring the surge of irritation at her smarminess, something you recognised you would have to learn to cope with for the next painful while. You had no idea how long this whole process would take, and realised with a sudden stab of guilt that you would have to eventually inform your parents of this decision.

If you explained it was to keep your boss’ position at the company, rather than any dumb, spontaneous act of love, they would surely understand, right?   

“Agatha?” You called, met by a hum of acknowledgement. “Are you telling your family the real reason for this marriage, or are we going to have to keep faking it?”

“Oh, my mother’s a raging homophobe.” Agatha chuckled bitterly, refusing to meet your eyes. “If she doesn’t immediately kick you out, I’m going to enjoy riling her up.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

At last, Agatha’s focus was diverted from her phone as she looked briefly over to you, mildly intrigued by your perseverance. “I was just going to see how it went when we get there.” She replied, shrugging.

“Great…”

“And until then, don’t mention this to a single soul.” Agatha jabbed an accusatory finger in your direction. “We continue as normal for the next day and a half, with me singlehandedly driving this company to success, and you following me about all dazed and heart-eyed.”

“What!” You protested. “I do not follow you about, nor do I have heart eyes!”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” She smirked, radiating an irritating charm that had you forgetting how to breathe for a second. You wrung your hands about anxiously in your lap, willing yourself to relax.

“Our flight leaves at 6pm on Friday, so we’ll have to go straight from work,” Agatha said, changing the subject. “You can hide your luggage in my office, and we’ll have my driver pick us up so that saves that hassle…”

She trailed off suddenly, and despite your insistence on not getting too caught up in the intricacies of your boss’ behaviour, you peaked over at her. Just like earlier in the immigration office, she was chewing at her lip, this time with a faraway expression. You frowned, sensing she was nervous about something. It set you slightly on edge to see her this way. Agatha was never nervous. Big meetings didn’t faze her, important deadlines never stressed her out and public speaking was like a second nature to her. Where once this bravery had been sickeningly envious, its disappearance now gave you concern.

Agatha was a mystery to you, one you were reluctant to address, yet desperate to understand.

---

Agatha flopped down onto her desk chair with a huff, allowing her head to fall backwards and feeling her neck crack with the movement. The tension that racked her body seemed to grudgingly resist lessening, and she considered whether she ought to just take the remainder of the day off. But that would be suspicious...

She loathed the idea that her every decision was being monitored but dreaded to imagine the other option: moving back home, back in her mother’s grasp. She hadn’t seen the woman in over ten years, and to think now that she would spend the weekend in her company… Agatha groaned, letting her face crash forward into her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, and in the darkness saw only her mother, pictured how she would be reacting to the news that Agatha would be joining them for part of the trip.

As per usual, her attempt to reach out to her mother had been met by silence. She was starting to suspect her number was blocked, and thus Agatha had instead chosen to inform Lilia Calderu about this impromptu reunion. The woman was cooky, but kind. She had always been Agatha’s one ally within the family, and since her emancipation, was the only one who had bothered to stay in contact.

As if abruptly summoned from her thoughts, Agatha’s phone buzzed across the table, likely holding more information from Lilia. With a sigh, she reached forward to raise the lit screen into her eye line, yet was surprised to be met by another’s name

[4:10pm] Jennifer Kale: you’re coming to Salem????

Agatha chuckled, though not out of humour. Jen was one of the many people her mother seemed to just acquire. It was a terrible feature of Evanore Harkness: that the crazy gravitated towards her, became involved in their family and never left.

The word ‘family’ didn’t quite sit right with Agatha. It was more like a cult.

[4:11pm] Agatha Harkness: I am. I take it you’re still hanging about?

[4:12pm] Jennifer Kale: well when you abandoned ship someone had to replace you.

Agatha scoffed, ignoring the wave of irritation at Jen’s phrasing. She was irreplaceable. Though the idea that her own mother should even try to swap one daughter out for another didn’t exactly come as a surprise. Nonetheless, it still hurt. Agatha crossed her arms over her chest, deciding to pursue the conversation no further.

[4:15pm] Jennifer Kale: Lilia mentioned you were bringing a plus-one. who is she?

At this, Agatha’s loathing softened ever so slightly. Jen was one of the few that had supported her coming out, had even attempted to defend her from Evanora’s outrage. She picked the phone back up, feeling a smile grace her lips as she started to type.

[4:15pm] Agatha Harkness: someone I’ve been seeing for a while. She’s nice. You’ll like her.

The message was a simple lie, but it did the job.

Still, reading it back Agatha found she had a lot more to say about you…

NEXT PART

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unhinged two

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI

(part one)

wc: 1.2 K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive content, no y/n used a/n: since some of you wanted a part two of this, I gladly made one. (this came out a little rushed as well, not proofread! sorry!!) Enjoy!!

The moment he left the room, you grabbed your phone and made sure to never open that chat again. You still feel borderline embarrassed and ashamed, realising how weird it is.

Sighing out, you calm yourself down and sip on your tea, hands trembling from your racing heart. After another exhale, you start to think of what to do.

You need to apologise. That‘s the least you could do with a situation like this, after… you can‘t even think about it!

From the silence that lingers around the whole apartment, it‘s clear that Jason is probably expiriencing a mental breakdown too. Now that you think about it, you can‘t really imagine how he feels like after finding out about your dirty thoughts about him.

You don‘t even finish your tea before you sprint off the living room, throwing over your coat and storm outside to get him a proper apology.

Meanwhile, Jason is concerned. He started to look for his therapist‘s number on his phone, but hesitated actually clicking on it. What, should he say that he read through his roommate‘s messages and now wants to kill himself because of the pure filth that was written about him?

No, surely no one will believe him, or at least make fun of him if they believe him.

The safest option would be to keep it for himself, or tell Dick. Yeah, the safest option would be to keep it to himself.

Outisde of his room, he hears the front door click open again, laying his phone down as he contemplates wether to go out or not. His thoughts get interrupted once he hears soft knocks against it.

»Yeah?« Shit, he should‘ve said he is busy.

»Can I come in? I, um… I need to apologise.«

A hint of shame comes through your tone, head hanging low behind the door. There‘s clearly nothing more pathetic than this situation. The silence that follows after only makes your nerves run higher, making your shift on your feet.

»‘Kay.«

Jason is great at pretending to be non-chalant. But it‘s an answer, at least.

So you walk in. And stop in the doorframe, boquet of flowers in hand, his favourite order at the local fast food restaurant in the other. A pathetic expression on your face. He has to stop himself from reacting surprised and both pleased at the action, remembering what happened just a few moments ago.

»So… about those messages. I won‘t sugarcoat it, I did send them, there‘s no excuse I can use. But I won‘t do that again and I don‘t actually think of you in that way. I just… had to describe to my friend how you look like.«

You shrug at the end, placing the smaller paperbag onto his nightstand and hold the boquet in both of your hands for now. It‘s difficult, embarrassing and devistating, saying something in hopes that he will forgive you and let you stay in the shared apartment.

Truth be told, Jason couldn‘t feel more touched by this, trying so hard to keep his composure. He fails either way, the corners of his mouth curling up ever so faintly as he shakes his head.

»You didn‘t need to bring me flowers for that, but… thanks? And, I won‘t look into your phone again. Ever.«

That‘s a relief, handing over the boquet of flowers anyway. He takes them, finally smiling down at them. That‘s not how he expected to receive flowers, he never thought he would get them at some point in his life anyway.

»There‘s also you favourite order, I‘ll leave for now, just… uh— don‘t kick me out.«

Now he has to chuckle, putting the flowers away before he takes a look into the bag of food.

»Oh, I won‘t. It would be boring without you, no?«

He muses as he glances back up to you, an amused and teasing glint in his eye. Of course… he will never let you live that down.

From then on, every time you were slightly annoyed over something he did, Jason simply pulled out the ‚Remember how you talked about me to your friend?‘-card and instantly makes you shut up. But sometimes, you ignore that and go on about the rant you were currently holding.

»No, Jason, I don‘t care, and this happened two months ago! You should be able to clean at least the counter after cooking or baking something.«

You track back to the current argument, waving frustrated to the countertop that has traces from flour and butter.

Instead of getting hissy too, he simply tilts his hxcead, boxing you up against said counter.

»Say again?«

You go silent, staring up at him with big, shocked eyes, standing there at a loss of words.

In short, his ego grew a lot bigger after the initial shock wore off. He started to use such tactics in harmless arguments, before he just used them randomly to tease you. And lucky for him, it worked every damn time. He is sure you already texted every single encounter like this to your dear friend – and he is dying to know if his theory is true – but he won‘t check your phone again, simply too scared at the same time.

On the other hand, you are secretly enjoying it. No, loving it. What do you mean your hot roommate flirts with you randomly for no reason? You would never trade that for anything else.

The same thing happens on a casual saturday, leaning over the kitchen counter as you scroll through some new recipes on your phone. Jason walks in through the front door, ever so silent that you don‘t notice him coming in, before you hear his soft voice mumble near your ear.

»Watcha cooking?« His hand rests on the counter by your side, dangerously close for your own comfort. But you wont back away or say anything against it, answering him back instead.

»Nothing yet. Looking through stuff.«

He hums in acknowledgement, resting his chin on your shoulder while he watches your phone too.

»Wanna cook something together, then? I brought some groceries.« His hand brushes against your side as he leans away, starting to sort through the bag and put the stuff away that he bought.

After an easy agreement, you both settle on making something simple for dinner, not wanting to waste your energy on something new.

Cooking with him would be relaxing, if his hand wouldn‘t linger around your back or waist every minute. You grew used to it after some time, but it still never fails to make you slightly distracted on your current task.

In general, you noticed that Jason became way more touchy with you after the incident, as well as teasing. You try not mentioning it and simply never talk about it in hopes this will never end, but he secretly wishes you would.

He made a single masterplan in his mind on ultimately asking you out once you start to mention his antics, but there‘s no luck so far. Okay, guitly as charged, he did talk about that with his brother Dick. He follows his advice half-heartedly, hoping for some miracle to happen at the same time until you notice his signs.

←MASTERLIST

[eu-nicola]

one night

summary: one night with Max left a problem that you didn't talk to him about

warnings: pregnancy, and idk you tell me

word counter: 8005

author’s note: english is not my first language

The night was charged with a strange electricity that you didn't know how to explain. It was one of those improvised meetings in the house of a mutual friend, where laughter and talk mixed with the low sound of the music. You had known Max all your life, shared years of friendship, confidences and mutual support. He had always been your refuge, the kind of person who could read you with a single look.

That night, however, everything felt different.

Max was sitting next to you on the couch, closer than usual, and you couldn't help but notice every detail of his presence. The way his fingers played with the edge of his glass, the sound of his deep laughter when someone told an absurd joke, and how his eyes seemed to look for yours more than necessary. You tried to ignore it, attributing everything to your imagination, but it was useless. There was something there, something that both seemed to feel but did not want to admit.

The night advanced and the hours became more blurry. Most of the guests had left, leaving only a small group of close friends. But even they began to disappear, until you found yourself alone with Max in the dimly lit room.

"Another glass?" he offered you, getting up to fill your glass of wine.

"I don't know if I should," you replied, laughing softly, but you accepted anyway.

The conversation became more intimate, the topics more personal. They talked about the moments they had shared, how they had changed on time. At some point, Max leaned towards you, his expression more serious than usual.

"Have you ever wondered...?" he began, but left the phrase in the air.

"What?" you asked, feeling how your heart was racing.

He shook his head, as if he had decided not to say it. But his eyes told you something he couldn't put into words. Then it happened. A moment of courage - or madness - led you to close the distance between the two. The kiss was unexpected, intense, full of years of repressed feelings that finally found a way out.

The night continued between caresses and whispers, the outside world disappearing completely. For a few hours, everything felt like it was fine, as if this was what both had been waiting for without knowing it.

But the next morning, reality struck like a bucket of cold water. Max was in the kitchen when you woke up, his movements tense, avoiding your gaze. They barely spoke, an uncomfortable silence that looked nothing like the dynamics they had had for years.

"Last night..." he began, scratching the back of his neck, "it was... unexpected.

"Yes, it was," you admitted, pretending to feel a tranquility that you didn't feel.

They both knew that something had changed, something they couldn't ignore, but they didn't know how to handle it either. So, slowly, they began to move away. Messages that were previously constant became sporadic, and then non-existent. The calls stopped. His absence hurt, but you didn't know what to do about it.

Weeks later, while trying to move on with your life, you realized that something was not right. Morning sickness, constant fatigue, and the absence of your period led you to buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy, your hands shaking while you waited for the result.

Two lines. Positive.

Your mind was filled with questions, fears and doubts, but one thing was clear: the baby was Max's. And although your first instinct was to call him, reason prevailed. Max had been in a serious relationship with Kelly for a while, a woman who had a little daughter whom he had accepted as his own. You knew he was committed to that life, and you couldn't ruin it all.

You decided to keep quiet. You would raise your baby alone, without complicating anyone else's life. But deep down, you knew that this secret would not be easy to carry. The life you had shared with Max felt like a distant memory, a "and if" that would never have a response.

You refused to think too much about what it implied. The more you thought about it, the more you sank into a whirlwind of contradictory emotions: fear, sadness, pride, and a kind of determination that you didn't know you had. You knew that your life would change drastically, but you also knew that you didn't want Max to be part of this new chapter. Not because you didn't trust him, but because his life was already defined, and you didn't want to be the person who broke it to pieces.

The decision was clear to you: you needed space, distance, something that would help you start again without Max's shadow and his responsibilities. So, little by little, you began to prepare your escape.

First, you stopped frequenting the places where you knew you might meet him. You changed your phone number, blocked almost all mutual friends on your social networks and pretended that you needed "time for yourself" when someone asked about your disappearance. Weeks passed, and your pregnancy began to be harder to hide. You looked in the mirror every morning, noticing the changes in your body and reminding yourself why you were doing it.

One day, after a visit to the doctor, you sat in your car and made the final decision. You looked at the familiar streets around you, the places that had always been your home, and you knew it was time to leave them behind.

London. You had always wanted to live there, and now it seemed like the perfect opportunity to start over. Without telling anyone but your boss, you submitted your resignation, packed your things and booked a plane ticket. The plan was simple: you would settle in an apartment, work in your family's company as they had wanted so long, and raise your baby away from any possibility of Max discovering the truth.

When you arrived in London, the city greeted you with a cold and humid air, typical of early autumn. You moved to an apartment in a quiet area, with enough cafes and parks nearby to keep you busy.

Then you had disappeared from the digital radar for months. Your social networks, which used to be full of spontaneous photos, updates and everyday moments, had been left in absolute silence. You hadn't posted anything for a long time, and although you kept looking from time to time, reviewing the stories and publications of others, you made sure not to leave any traces of your presence. It was as if you had become a ghost that I watched from a distance.

People began to notice your absence. You knew it because, when reviewing your old posts, you found endless comments asking you where you were. "Everything okay?", "We miss you", "Why haven't you uploaded anything?" some said. Others simply left emojis, hearts, or words of support. But even when nostalgia for your previous life invaded you, you still didn't respond.

It wasn't exactly fear, but a feeling of wanting to protect this very personal stage. The pregnancy had been a roller coaster of emotions: illusion, uncertainty, and moments of loneliness that you fought remembering why you were doing this. Your little world in London had become your refuge, and sharing it with the rest of the world still didn't seem necessary to you.

But everything changed when the month came in which you decided to know the gender of your baby. The doctor's appointment was marked on your calendar, and you couldn't deny that you were excited and a little nervous. It was a strange feeling, as if knowing the gender made everything even more real, as if the baby that grew inside you began to take the form of a person you would soon meet.

The doctor's room was lit with a warm light, and the constant sound of the monitor filled the air. You lay back on the stretcher, taking a deep breath while the doctor applied the cold gel to your belly. The screen in front of you showed the blurred silhouette of your baby, and you felt that knot in your chest that always invaded you when you saw it.

"Do you want to know the gender?" the doctor asked, with a smile.

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment they told you was unforgettable. A child. A child who would soon become the center of your world. You smiled as tears accumulated in your eyes. For an instant, all the doubts, fears and difficult decisions vanished, replaced by pure and simple happiness.

That same afternoon, while you were walking back to your apartment, you decided it was time. For the first time in months, you felt the impulse to share this part of your life with others. It wasn't out of pressure, or to please anyone, but because you wanted to celebrate this little miracle you were waiting for.

You took a couple of pictures, wearing a white dress that highlighted your belly. The brightness of your skin, the pride in your eyes and the shy smile on your face were more than evident. You weren't the type to plan great revelations, but you knew you wanted to do something special.

You sat on the edge of your bed, carefully selecting the images and writing a description that reflected how you felt:

"After months of silence, I finally want to share the reason why my world changed. I'm expecting a beautiful baby, a boy who will arrive soon to light up my life. I can't explain in words the joy and love I feel knowing that I will be a mom. Thank you to everyone who has been asking about me and worrying in silence. I'm fine, better than I've been in a long time. 💙”

You took a breath before publishing it, hesitating for a moment. What would happen if this reached Max's ears? You knew I would do it but you pushed those thoughts away from your mind and pressed the publish button.

Within minutes, notifications began to flood your phone. Comments of surprise, love and congratulations appeared one after another. "Congratulations!", "You're going to be an amazing mom!", "A child? What a thrill!". The answer was overwhelming, and as you read them, you felt a warmth that enveloped you.

You allowed yoursellelless to smile again. For the first time in a long time, you let the world know a part of your new reality.

You didn't expect all that to go so far. After posting the news on your social networks, you felt a mixture of relief and vulnerability. You had shared your truth with the world, but you couldn't control who could see it, how they would react or what they would say behind your back.

Then Max's message arrived.

It was almost ten o'clock at night and you were on your couch, with your legs crossed and a bowl of ice cream in your hands, responding to the hundreds of comments that kept coming. Your phone vibrated, and when you looked at the notification, you felt how the air left your lungs.

It was a message from Max.

"Congratulations to you and the baby's father. I hope you are well. Really, I'm glad to know that you're happy."

You were frozen, reading and rereading the message as if you were unable to process it. How did he get your number? Who had told him? Why had I decided to write to you after so long? All these questions crowded into your mind, but none had an immediate answer.

You didn't know what to do. The most instinctive part of you wanted to ignore it, as if you had never seen the message. But another part, more emotional, I knew that would not be fair. He had been kind, had respected the distance, and had not hinted at anything that could complicate things.

You put the phone aside, squeezing your eyes as you took a deep breath. You had to answer, but what to say? You couldn't reveal the truth, that was clear. But you didn't want to sound cold or distant either. So you took your time, thinking about every word, every semicomon, before writing:

"Thank you, Max. I'm fine and so is the baby. I'm glad to hear from you."

You hit "send" before you could regret it, your heart beating hard while you waited, not knowing if he would answer. Every vibration of your phone made you jump, but the minutes passed, then the hours, and nothing else arrived.

Silence was a relief and torture at the same time. On the one hand, you were grateful that he didn't insist, that he didn't ask questions that you couldn't or didn't want to answer. But on the other hand, you wondered what he would be thinking, if he had really believed your version.

That night, before going to sleep, you thought about his message over and over again. It was so typical of Max: courteous, respectful, but letting out that closeness that had always existed between you. You knew him well enough to know that he must be curious, even if he didn't say it.

Max didn't write to you again. There were no more messages, calls or contact attempts. And although one part of you hoped it wasn't like that, another, more practical, deeply thanked him. The conversation had been at a neutral point, without complications or confrontations, exactly as you wanted.

The days passed with a strange tranquility. Since Max's message, you had not heard from him again, and life in London was on course. Your daily routines had become a kind of comfort: working from home, walking through nearby parks and mentally preparing for the arrival of your baby. But that calm was suddenly broken when your family called you with news that you did not expect.

You were lying on the couch, reviewing a list of things for the baby, when your mother called you. Her voice sounded excited, almost as if she was holding herst out so as not to scream with joy.

"We have something to tell you," he said, without even saying hello first.

"What happened?" you asked, anticipating that something important was coming.

“Your father and I have decided to go back to Monaco. The company is doing better than ever, and we believe it is the perfect time to return home. We've been away too long.”

The news hit you like a gust of cold air. Monaco Your lifelong home, the place where you had grown up, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you. But also the place you had left behind when you moved to London, in search of a new beginning.

"When do you plan to move?" you asked, trying to sound calmer than you felt.

"In a few weeks." We want you to come with us, of course. It's time for us to get back together, especially now that you're expecting a baby.

The proposal left you silent. You knew that your mother didn't say it with bad intentions; she was excited about the idea of having her first grandson around. But for you, the decision was not so simple. London had become your refuge, the place where you had managed to rebuild your life away from everything that tied you to your past. Returning would mean facing everything you had been avoiding, starting with Max.

Monaco was not a place where you could easily hide. Your family was well known, with important connections in the business and social circles of the city. If you came back, everyone would be behind you with questions. And even worse, there was a high probability that you would cross paths with Max during the Formula 1 break.

The following days were a storm of thoughts and emotions. On the one hand, the idea of being alone in London terrified you. With the baby on the way, you knew you would need support, and your family had always been by your side in important moments. But on the other hand, returning to Monaco meant opening a door that you had closed with so much effort.

You sat in front of the window of your small apartment one night, looking at the city lights while reflecting. You were mature enough not to worry about what people would say, but facing Max was something else. You knew each other, and you knew that his presence had an effect on you that you had never been able to fully control.

Finally, after days of thinking and rethinking, you made a decision.

You would return to Monaco.

It wouldn't be easy, but you were tired of living in fear. You didn't want your child to be born in a place where you felt isolated and vulnerable. Your family was important to you, and you knew you could trust them to support you, even if they didn't fully understand why you had made certain decisions.

The next day, you called your mother to give her the news.

"I'm going back with you," you said, your voice firm but with a touch of nervousness.

She couldn't hide her joy. He started talking about the plans for the trip, how they would organize everything so that you were comfortable. His enthusiasm made you smile, although a part of you was still restless.

The weeks passed in the blink of an eye. You packed your things, silently saying goodbye to London and the small shelter you had built there. When the day of your departure came, you looked for the last time at the streets that had become your temporary home, promising yourself that, whatever happens in Monaco, you would be strong.

The plane landed in Monaco at sunset, and the view of the city filled you with a mixture of nostalgia and nervousness. It was as if a part of you had never really left. But you knew the real test was yet to come. Max was there, somewhere, and sooner or later, you would have to face him.

It didn't take long for that, "The event" as your family used to say was something typical: a great meeting in one of the most exclusive lounges in Monaco, where the closest families could live together. Your parents had organized it as a kind of welcome to resume old connections after returning to the city. From the invitation, you knew that it would be inevitable to cross paths with people from the past, but you didn't think too much about who might be. There were so many names, so many familiar faces, that you assumed you could stay on the sidelines without drawing too much attention.

You dressed up with care that night, choosing a simple white dress that enhanced your figure. The fabric flowed gently over your growing belly, marking it delicately without being too flashy. You left your hair loose, with natural waves, and applied light makeup. You wanted to see yourself well, but without trying too hard.

When we arrived at the event, the room was already full. Laughter and conversations filled the air, and the children ran back and forth while the adults met in small groups. There was something familiar in the atmosphere, something that transported you to the years when you had also been a girl in those meetings. It was at one of these parties where you met Max.

Years ago...

You were a restless girl, full of curiosity and not afraid to talk to anyone, even if they were older than you. Max, on the other hand, was more reserved, even a little grumpy for his age. However, somehow, you found a way to break his serious facade. With your energetic personality, you managed to let my guard down. To everyone's surprise, he, who always seemed uncomfortable in these meetings, got along with you from the beginning. In those days, both became inseparable, exploring together every corner of these events while the adults chatted.

Returning to the present...

That memory made you smile a little, but it also made you feel a knot in your stomach. You tried to shake the nostalgia and focus on the night. You walked among the guests, chatting with those who approached you, most of them congratulating you on the pregnancy. Although you felt out of place, you tried to stay calm.

That's when you saw it.

Max was standing near one of the tables, dressed in a dark suit that sat him spotlessly. He was accompanied by Kelly, and her little daughter. The air seemed to disappear from your lungs instantly.

He also saw you.

For a second, your eyes met, and his expression changed. He seemed surprised, maybe even uncomfortable, but he immediately regained his composure. You, on the other hand, felt that your heart was beating so hard that it was hard for you to breathe. Instinctively, you turned on your heels, looking for a way out. You weren't ready to face him, even less with Kelly by his side.

But Max was faster.

Before you could disappear into the crowd, he and Kelly approached you. His every step made the panic inside you increase. You wanted to run, excuse yourself, anything to avoid that moment, but there was no escape.

"Hey!" Max said, with a smile that seemed contained, as if he was also dealing with something internal. His voice was warm, as if the months of silence between you had not existed. He pointed at Kelly and said—: “This is Kelly, my girlfriend.”

Kelly smiled politely and held out her hand.

"Nice to meet you," she said. Max has told me that you two have been friends since you were little.

Your mind was going a thousand per hour, but you managed to force a smile and shake his hand.

"Yes, that's right. For... many years” you replied, striving to keep your voice stable.

Max, as if he wanted to relieve the tension, added with a more relaxed smile:

"It's amazing to see you here, and congratulations again, both for you and for the baby's father.”

The words "baby's father" echoed in your mind like an echo. Kelly also congratulated you, and although there was nothing in his words that sounded malicious, you felt that your whole body tensed up.

"Thank you," you managed to say, nodding with a shy smile.

You couldn't take it anymore. You made up the first excuse you could think of.

"Excuse me, I need to go get something to drink." It has been a pleasure to see you.

Before they could say anything else, you walked away with quick steps, feeling the eyes of both of them fixed on your back. You didn't stop until you were far away, in a corner of the living room where you could catch your breath.

Your heart kept beating hard, and your hands were shaking. You had managed to get out of that conversation, but the meeting had removed all the emotions you had tried to bury. Max was there, and although you hadn't admitted it out loud, seeing him had made everything feel real again.

The night continued as a blur of superficial conversations and forced laughter. Every time Max and his little family appeared in your line of sight, you found a way to dodge them, pretending that someone else required your attention. You kept busy talking to acquaintances, checking your phone and serving yourself lemon water in an attempt to distract yourself. All in vain. His presence weighed like a cloud on you, a constant that you could not ignore even if you tried.

As soon as you finished pretending to be interested in a business conversation, you decided you needed a break. The bustle of the living room began to suffocate you, and the fresh air outside seemed like the perfect solution. You walked towards the gardens, feeling the relief of the silence as you left the music and laughter behind.

The sky of Monaco was clear, and the city lights were reflected in the nearby water. You recharged against a railing, closing your eyes and letting the breeze caress your face. For a moment, the world seemed calmer, less complicated.

Until you heard his voice behind you.

"It's not very typical of you to escape from the party."

You turned quickly, with your heart racing. Max was there, with his hands in his pockets and an expression that you didn't know how to interpret. He seemed relaxed, but there was something in his eyes that made you feel that he had come with a purpose.

"I didn't escape. I just needed a little air” you replied, trying to sound casual while your hands fiddled with the railing.

Max approached, leaving enough space between you, but enough to make his presence impossible to ignore.

"It was nice to see you today. I didn't expect to find you here," he said, his words loaded with something you couldn't define.

"I say the same," you replied, looking at the horizon instead of him.

There was an awkward silence before he spoke again.

"Your family must be excited about the baby and his father too. I'm sure they're spoiling you a lot.”

You smiled slightly, although his tone made you feel a pang in your chest. You decided it was better to be honest before he continued to assume things.

"They are happy, yes. But my baby doesn't have a father.”

Max seemed to stop in his tracks. His expression changed, and for a moment he seemed to be looking for the right words.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know."

You looked at him then, meeting his look that seemed sincerely hurt.

"Don't do it," you told him, your tone firm but without hardness. “Don't be regretted. I'm happy, Max. My family is happy. I can't ask for more. This child will be surrounded by love, and that's all that matters.”

Max nodded slowly, but his eyes continued to reflect something else, something he didn't say out loud.

"I always thought you would be an incredible mom," he said after a moment, with a small smile.

You forced yourself to smile too, although his comment stirred you inside. You wanted to change the subject, prevent the conversation from taking a more emotional turn, but Max was the one who spoke first.

"I want to be in your life again."

His words were like a direct blow to the chest. You looked at him, stunned, trying to understand exactly what he meant.

"Max..." you started, but he raised a hand, interrupting you.

"I'm not saying that I'm going to get into something that doesn't belong to me. I just... I want to be part of your life again, as we were before. I could be a good uncle for that little one," he added, with a smile that seemed sincere, although also somewhat sad.

That was too much for you. His words, his tone, the way he seemed so sure of wanting to be close but at the same time setting limits... It was a reminder of what had been and what it could not be. You felt your heart tighten, as if the air became denser.

"I would love to have you back in my life, Max. You've always been a good friend” you managed to say, although it was hard for you to keep your voice stable.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on yours for an eternal second. Then he looked towards the house, as if something was calling him back.

"I'm glad to hear it. See you inside," he said softly, before turning around and walking towards the living room.

You stayed there, watching how his figure disappeared between the lights of the party. You felt a mixture of emotions that you couldn't fully decipher. There was something reassuring in knowing that he wanted to be in your life, but also something deeply painful in hearing the words "good friend" come out of his lips.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the lump in your throat. You knew that the best thing was to return too, but before you needed a few more minutes to pull yourself together.

When the night finally came to an end, and while you were helping your mother say goodbye to the last guests, you felt the exhaustion creep into every fiber of your body. Between smiles, short conversations and the unexpected meeting with Max, everything had been a whirlwind of emotions. You went up to your room, closing the door behind you and letting out a long sigh. You had succeeded. You had survived that night without collapsing, although the cracks in your facade were deeper than you wanted to admit.

You took off your dress carefully, letting the fresh air ease your skin. You put on a comfortable nightgown and got rid of the makeup with slow movements. Every step of your nightly routine was an attempt to distract you from the only thing that really occupied your mind: Max. The conversation outside, his insistence on wanting to be back in your life, his words loaded with a meaning that you refused to interpret... Everything kept spinning in your head.

When you got into bed, you took your phone out of habit, checking notifications and messages before going to sleep. That's when you saw it. A message from Max.

Max: "Good night. I liked seeing you tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat when you read it. You didn't expect me to write to you, not after what they had talked about. You thought about ignoring him, but you knew you couldn't. Something inside you drove you to respond.

You: "Simely. It was nice to see you."

You sent the message before your mind could stop you, and just a few seconds later his answer came.

Max: "I don't know if this sounds weird, but I feel like I've missed you more than I thought."

You bit your lip, your fingers floating on the screen as you decided what to say. Finally you wrote:

You: "It doesn't sound weird. I've missed you too."

The conversation flowed with a naturalness that baffled you. Talking to him was like returning to something comfortable and familiar, as if the months of distance had not existed. They talked about trivial things at the beginning: how he was, how you were, small anecdotes of the event that had occurred while you were escaping to the garden. But then he wrote something that made you stop.

Max: "We should have a coffee or something. Really catch up."

Your first reaction was to doubt. You knew it wasn't a good idea. Seeing him was to risk letting your guard down, saying something you shouldn't have, opening doors that you had closed for a reason. But, at the same time, the idea excited you. You wanted to see it. I wanted to see it.

"I'd love to," you finally wrote, almost with fear.

Almost instantly came his answer:

Max: "Tomorrow? I have something in the afternoon, but I'm free at night."

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. You knew you shouldn't accept, but your fingers were already writing.

You: "It's okay. Tomorrow night."

They quickly confirmed it, deciding the place and time, and after a few more messages, he wrote:

Max: "Sleep well. See you tomorrow."

"You too," you replied, even though you knew that sleeping was the last thing you would do. You put the phone aside, but your mind was still at full speed.

As you settled in bed, you looked at the ceiling with a sigh. You had done something you knew you shouldn't have done, and the anxiety of what could happen consumed you. But, at the same time, a small spark of emotion lit up inside you.

The idea of seeing him, of talking to him face to face after all, made you feel like you were playing with fire. And yet, you found yourself counting the hours for the next day.

The next morning the day began in a rather routine way, although you felt a slight tingling in your stomach when you remembered your plan for later. After a light breakfast, you made sure to review your to-do list, and among them was the doctor's appointment. Although all the previous reviews had gone well, it always gave you a little anxiety to attend. You wanted to make sure that your baby was perfect, that everything went as it should.

You put on a loose and comfortable dress, choosing a pastel shade that highlighted the shine that lately your pregnancy had given to your skin. You looked in the mirror quickly before leaving, noticing your already noticeably rounded belly. You had reached that point in pregnancy where it was impossible to hide it, and although you felt proud, there were times when that reality made you think about everything that was to come.

The clinic was calm when you arrived. After signing some papers and waiting a few minutes in the room, they called you to go to the doctor. She was a kind woman, someone you fully trusted and with whom you had developed a good relationship since you arrived in Monaco.

You lay down on the stretcher while they did the routine ultrasound. The screen lit up with the image of your baby, and as always, your eyes filled with tears of pure emotion when you saw it.

"Everything looks perfect," said the doctor, smiling as she checked the measurements and heartbeat of the little one. “He is growing well and has a lot of energy, as always. Have you felt good?”

You nodded.

"Yes, although he's been a little restless today. I don't know if it's me or him.”

The doctor laughed softly.

"Probably a little bit of both. They feel our emotions, did you know? If you're anxious or nervous, he feels it too.”

You were thoughtful with that comment. It was true that you had been nervous since you woke up. The idea of seeing Max again, of sitting in front of him after so long, had you in a constant state of anticipation.

"I guess he's right. Today I have... an important day.”

You didn't go into details, but she gave you an understanding look.

"Well, try to relax." He's fine, you're fine. Enjoy your day and make sure you rest.

When you left the clinic, the mid-morning sun greeted you warmly, but you still felt some restlessness in your chest. You knew there was no reason to worry about the baby, but the conversation with the doctor left you thinking. Your little one was connected to you in a way that no one else could be, and his well-being was completely up to you.

The rest of the day was spent in a blur of domestic activities and small errands, but your mind always returned to Max. You wondered what it would be like to see him again, this time in a more intimate environment. Would he be nervous like you? Would it still be as easy to talk to him as it had been last night?

As the afternoon progressed, you noticed that your baby kept moving. Every time you tried to sit down for a moment to breathe, he kicked or settled down, as if trying to get your attention.

"What's wrong, little one?" you murmured, placing a hand on your belly. “Are you also nervous about tonight?”

The thought made you smile, although you felt a knot in your stomach. You caressed your belly with gentle movements, trying to calm it down and calm yourself down in the process.

You sighed as you looked at the clock. Every minute that passed brought you closer to the meeting, and although you were nervous, a part of you couldn't wait.

The afternoon was sliding into the night, and with each passing minute, you felt how anxiety was taking over you. You repeated to yourself over and over again that everything would be fine, that there was nothing to fear, that it was only Max. Max, your lifelong friend. Max, who was now much more complicated than you had ever imagined.

When it was time to get ready, you went into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. There was something different about you, a mixture of emotion and tension that made you feel like you were about to cross an invisible line. The dress you chose was simple but elegant, a dark blue tone that highlighted your skin and concealed your belly. You left your hair loose, falling in soft waves on your shoulders. The makeup, just enough to give a touch of color to your cheeks and highlight your eyes. You wanted to look good, but without looking like you had tried too hard.

While you were putting on the last touches, your phone vibrated on the table. You took it with slightly trembling hands and read the message.

"I'm outside. I'll wait for you."

You toom a deep breath before answering.

"Ok."

You picked up your bag, taking one last look at your reflection before leaving the room. You went down the stairs calmly, although your heart was beating hard in your chest. When he opened the front door, there he was. Max Verstappen, waiting for you next to his car with a smile that, despite all the time that had passed, was still the same you remembered.

"Hello," he said softly, his eyes running over you for a moment before returning to your face. “You look... good.”

You smiled a little shyly.

"Thank you. You too”

Max was dressed casually but flawlessly, a dark shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly. I had always had that ability to look good without much effort. He opened the car door for you and, once you were inside, he circled the car and sat behind the wheel.

The journey was comfortable, although full of silences that spoke more than words. Through the reflection in the window, you watched him sideways. His firm hands on the steering wheel, the way he concentrated on the road, everything was so familiar and at the same time so distant.

Finally, they arrived at a small secluded, discreet and cozy restaurant, a place that Max had chosen carefully to avoid curious glances. Upon entering, you were greeted by a warm atmosphere, dim lights and tables separated enough to ensure privacy.

"It's a quiet place," he said while helping you sit down. “I thought we would be more comfortable here.”

You nodded, grateful for your consideration.

"It's perfect."

You both asked for dinner, and for a few minutes, the sound of the cutlery and the soft background music filled the space. But soon, the conversation began to flow.

"So..." you said, breaking the ice. “How is everything? Life, the team, your relationship?”

Max took a sip from his glass before answering.

"Life... is fine. Busy, as always. The team is doing well, although this year has been more complicated than I expected. And Kelly...” he paused briefly. “We're fine. Things are stable, which is good for me, for P.”

He mentioned his girlfriend and stepdaughter naturally, but you couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest. You forced yoursellsel on your smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. You know I've always wanted you to be happy.”

Max looked at you with an expression that seemed to contain more than he was willing to say.

"And you?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. “Why did you disappear like that? One day you were here, and the next, you were gone. Without a word.”

You tensed up a little in your chair, fiddling with the edge of your glass. You had known that question would come, but you were not completely prepared to answer it.

"It was something... I needed to do," you finally said, choosing your words carefully. “London was an opportunity to start again. And... I didn't want to complicate anyone's life.”

Max frowned slightly, his eyes looking for yours.

"Complicate life for whom? To me?”

The air seemed to become denser between you. You avoided his gaze, concentrating on the napkin that you now held between your fingers.

"You already had many things in your life. You didn't need... more complications.”

Max was silent for a moment, but his eyes didn't turn away from you.

"We were always friends, remember? No matter what happened... that doesn't change.”

The sincerity in his voice disarmed you, and for a moment, you felt that the weight of the last few months was about to collapse on you. But you stood firm, smiling softly.

"I know. And I'm glad we can talk like this, like before.”

The conversation continued, returning to lighter topics: childhood memories, career anecdotes, moments they shared before everything got complicated. But, deep down, they both knew that there were things that remained unsaid.

When dinner ended, they both left the restaurant, the night in Monaco unfolded calm and cool, with a gentle breeze that caressed your skin. You felt strangely light, despite everything that dinner had moved in you. You thought the night had come to an end, but Max, standing next to you in front of the car, seemed to hesitate before saying goodbye.

"Are you tired?" he asked, with a look that contained more than what his words said. “Because... if you're not, we could go for a walk.”

You were surprised by the invitation, but a part of you, the one that was still looking for any excuse to prolong the moment, did not hesitate to answer.

"No, I'm not tired. I would love to walk a little.”

Max smiled, a soft smile that lit up his face for a moment. He walked by your side, and soon they both left the restaurant behind and went into the quietest streets of the city. The night in Monaco was a spectacle in itself, with the lights reflected in the sea, the distant sound of laughter and music, and the constant murmur of the nightlife that unfolded around it. But at that moment, nothing seemed to matter more than the presence of the other.

The silence between you was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it felt almost like a conversation in itself, a pause that allowed both of them to think about everything that had been left unsaid for so long. They walked at the same pace, their steps synchronized, and from time to time your fingers brushed his, which caused a small chill that ran through your body.

Finally, it was Max who broke the silence. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he feared to alter the stillness of the night.

"I like walking with you at night," he said, with a sincerity that took you by surprise. His eyes looked at you sideways, looking for your reaction.

Your heart turned upside down, and you bit your lip before answering, allowing a soft smile to form on your lips.

"I like it too. I enjoy it.”

And you meant it. There was something intimate at that moment, a connection that didn't need words. The world seemed to have reduced to you two, walking together under the dim lights of Monaco. The breeze was fiddling with your hair, and Max noticed it, because his eyes stopped a second longer on you, before looking away.

Both continued walking in silence for a few more minutes, until both of you reached a small viewpoint that overlooked the port. The lights of the yachts and the soft waves of the water created an almost magical atmosphere. You leaned on the railing, contemplating the landscape, but aware that Max had come closer, until he was a few centimeters from you.

"It's beautiful," you commented, trying to stay calm, although your heart was beating hard.

"It is..." he replied, but when you looked up, you realized that he was not looking at the landscape. He was looking at you.

The atmosphere became denser, loaded with electricity that seemed to envelop them. You felt trapped between the desire to maintain that closeness and the need to step back, to protect yourself from what that moment could mean. But you didn't move.

Max leaned slightly forward, resting his arms on the railing next to yours. His fingers brushed yours, and this time he didn't move away. Neither do you.

"I missed this," he murmured, with a voice so low that you barely heard him. “I missed being with you.”

His words disarmed you. You felt a lump in your throat, but you tried to stay calm.

"Me too..." you admitted, almost in a whisper. I missed this, you.

Both stayed like this, in silence, letting the moment last, feeling the closeness of the other. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had saved for months, but you held in. You didn't want to ruin it. Not yet.

Max turned his face towards you, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. His blue eyes, intense and full of contained emotions, met yours. The world around him disappeared, and all that existed was that look, that instant in which the past, the present and the future seemed to collide.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, with a softness that almost made you lose your balance.

Your breathing quickened slightly, and without looking away, you replied:

"To me too."

The silence that followed was different. It wasn't uncomfortable or empty.

But before either of them could do or say anything else, Max took a step back, breaking the spell.

"We should go back," he said, his voice a little more controlled. “I don't want you to get too tired.”

You nodded, grateful and at the same time disappointed. Both began to walk back, this time more slowly, as if prolonging that walk could change something.

When both got to the car, Max stopped before opening the door for you. For a moment, he seemed to doubt, as if he was about to say something important. But instead, he just smiled.

"Thank you for tonight. I needed.”

"Yeah. Me too..." you murmured. “Thank u.”

He leaned slightly, as if he was going to say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, but he stopped halfway. Instead, his fingers gently brushed your hand before opening the door. You got into the car, still feeling the warmth of his touch, and when he left you at home, they both said goodbye with a smile that said more than words could express.

That night, while you were lying in your bed, with the breeze of Monaco coming in through the window, you thought about every detail of that walk. In his gaze, in his words, in the touch of his fingers. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to dream about what could have been... and what it could still be.

[wisecura]

Next.

Wc: 6k

p.2 to this p.1

AN: thank you again for reading—proofread warning.

Warning: dub-con, jealousy, manipulative behavior, controlling behavior, smut (MINORS DNI), degradation, demeaning, rude gojo-like bad boy, bad, just not healthy my dude. Read with caution

Again.

Satoru, of course, had heard everything. The menace he was—he’d wound you up hoping to draw a confession from you. But like always he managed to get carried away. He couldn’t say he was upset with the outcome. He’d been able to see you so deliciously vulnerable right before his eyes. The way you squirmed beneath him, your beautiful doe eyes practically begging him to fuck you. And the second he’d heard your footsteps prattle away, a moan coming from your room, he knew it was all worth it.

His feet carried him straight to your door, long forgetting the food. He quietly approached, leaning in closely to listen. Your moans mixed with the wet squelches made him stutter out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His dick painfully hard in the confines of his pants. The image of you shuddering beneath him still burned into his mind. He’d pushed you, yes. But it was worth it to see the jealous look smearing your pretty features.

And now, his prize and punishment. Just out of reach. The sound of your vibrator, your whimpers and moans, and finally the sound of your climax. You filled the entire apartment with your sinful sounds.

His head rests against the door, his palms flexing. He put himself in this position, yet he wasn’t mad about it. His ear tinted red as he tried to imagine what your face looked like when you came. He’d thought long and hard, leaning against your door like that.

Satoru left the house soon after that. And when he’d arrived home, the lights were out in the apartment. He saw you had eaten the curry he left out for you, as he listened in for any sign of life. You were likely asleep. He brought the bag back to his room, locking the door before digging in. He’d bought several things that night, and was itching to put them to good use. Ordered some more to come in the next day.

You on the other hand were suffering from post nut clarity. What had you done? What had he done?

Would he pretend this never happened? He left the house before you could work up the courage to go talk to him about it. He’d been the one to push you, though. Would you even be able to face him. Explain to him the actions of your stupid horny brain. You had wondered if he really hadn’t heard you. Would you just be embarrassing yourself by bringing it up? And what about your conversation at the island table?

When you left for work the next day, you hadn’t seen him at all. Usually he’d be in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of you. You’d typically eat together, laugh about the movie you’d watched the night before, then say your goodbyes for the day.

But his bedroom door was shut. So you left. The change in routine was more noticeable than you thought. You didn’t realize how accustomed you were to having Satoru’s presence around you, that it just threw your whole day off.

When you got home that evening you immediately noticed something was off. You spotted more artwork on the walls. More furniture in the previously bare environment. It felt warmer than before, as you placed your bag by the door. More like home.

You heard rustling in the kitchen, making your way to the source of both the noise and the delicious smell. And there he was. In all his handsome glory. Who made him that attractive? You think spitefully.

“Oh! You’re home?” The word home hung a little more heavier than it did before. “Yeah, I just got back.”

He nods, as you take your seat in the island chair. Your mind flashes back to your position there yesterday night before he speaks up.

“How was your day?” The conversation remained light. You talked about each of your days, excluding the awkwardness of the morning.

“What’s with all the new decor? It’s nice don’t get me wrong, but…”

“Ah I wanted to liven the place up a bit…you can add whatever you want. It’s your place too, y’know?”

The words hang there. Should you address it? How would that conversation even go?

“Should we…should we talk about yesterday?” He remained playful and easygoing, “what’s there to talk about?” Was he being serious? He was just going to ignore it? Your confusion must’ve shown on your face—

“I think I was pretty upfront. You aren’t leaving. This is your home as much as mine.” That was only the tip of the iceberg, and you didn’t know how to approach the topic that would change the entire basis of your relationship.

“What are you expecting from me? Some kind of friends with benefits?” Your voice attempting nonchalance yet failing to hid the bitterness. He just didn’t seem the type for relationships. But a situationship did seem right up his alley. His smile tightened as he addressed you coldly, head tilting.

“I don’t care what label you put on it. Long as you aren’t seeing other people. Long as you stay here.” You decide to drop it there, not liking how cold his eyes had gotten. Eating in strained peace.

You shower off before heading to bed, but not before running into him in the hallway. His eyes shamelessly skimmed your body, which thankfully was still wrapped in a towel. You nodded at him before scurrying to your room and closing the door quickly. His gaze still made you so flustered.

You moved to grab your clothes before noting the framed landscape painting on the wall in front of your bed. It was somewhat awkward knowing that he’d been in your room while you were away, but it is his apartment, right?

You dress in your pajamas before tucking yourself in bed. The room was dark as you snuggled in the overly soft comforter.

That was before you heard him.

A low groan, followed by another. You sat bolt upright in bed. His room was on the other side of the wall, so you didn’t need to strain much to hear it. Continuous strings of moans, groans, and pants. You weren’t sure you were hearing right. You wait a few moments, unbelieving. Was he really doing this? Your face flushed red as you lay back in bed. You reach down between your legs feeling the dampness over your clean panties. Damn.

All it took was his voice. You touch your clothed pussy, feeling the damp spot grow. His groans and panting heavier as he begins moaning out your name.

You to freeze up, heart hammering. He was playing so dirty.

Too warm. You pulled the covers back, pulling down your shorts and underwear. The cold air hits your slick pussy and you rub meticulously. Your other hand stifles your moans before they can come out.

Satoru was playing dirty and he knew it. The second he was in bed, his mind never left how you looked walking around in that small towel. The water droplets clinging to your hair, and the smooth expanse of your creamy skin on display.

You were a fucking minx walking around like that. Pulling that stunt yesterday. All he had to do was imagine you, and the rest was history.

He was sure his moaning carried through the walls. He wanted to give you a little something for the day before. A few minutes go by before he pulls out his phone, clicking his new home security app. He’d placed cameras around the house. Expensive ones. Ones you wouldn’t see, hiding behind the decorative paintings he’d placed everywhere. Including your room.

You were lying there on your bed, your finger on that perfect gushing pussy. The camera quality, crystal clear. He couldn’t stop the groan from his mouth, calling out your name softly again. The satisfaction rolled in waves at the movement of your hips, no doubt in response to his voice.

This had been the best investment he’d ever made.

Tensions had been high around the apartment. Much to your displeasure. Satoru was still very friendly with you, spending much of his free time around you. Still very touchy, yet never crossing that line of too much.

He still never addressed your silent war of loudly masturbating in your rooms— a war which you both seemed to continue after that first day. And it was not something you were going to comment on first, especially if he was being stubborn. You’d spent more time out of the house, feeling that tension stifle you. But you’d wanted more from it. Wanted more from your relationship and he didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.

He would complain when you stayed out for long periods of time, but it was better than addressing the shift in your dynamic. And you could only stand to see his face so often when you frequently heard him climaxing in the next room over. Your name a constant on his tongue.

You’d met up with your childhood friend from home. You’d known him for years, having grown up together.

Satoru had met him too—funnily enough. He’d been the catalyst for Satoru’s possessive best friend hugging era. That friend.

He’d came into town, and messaged about a meet up. He’d only be there for a day or two. On the way out of the apartment that morning, you let Satoru know you wouldn’t be back for dinner, not wanting him to set the plate. He looked bored when he’d ask where you were going. Even when you told him who you were meeting up with. And he said nothing when you left the house to go to dinner that day.

All of this to say, you now found yourself very shocked. That conversation had only been a few hours ago, though it felt longer. Here you were sat across from your childhood friend.

And to your right was Satoru Gojo.

In the flesh. The look on your friend’s face was nothing short of awkward. He hadn’t expected you to be bringing a plus one. And judging by the look on your face, you hadn’t expected Satoru there either.

Maybe this would’ve been more comfortable had it not been for how Satoru was acting.

Satoru sat back in his chair, legs sprawled out beneath him, and was possibly the only comfortable looking person at the table. His smile broad, eyes easy going. The only tell for his own irritation was the tension in his shoulders.

“Sooo, who’re you again?” His underlying tone, condescending, boarding on mean, but still managed to keep his playful persona.

“Satoru—“ “Ah my name’s—“ You shoot your friend a look for him to shut up, giving him a light kick under the table. “Satoru, you know his name. Stop teasing.”

You give him a pointed look, still unsure why he was even there in the first place. With the way he was acting you had no doubt he’d wanted to make it awkward. You’d found out he was just quirky that way.

“Why’re you even here? This wasn’t supposed to be a group thing-“ He hummed out your name in a singsong voice, his arm swiftly clapping around on your friend’s shoulder, yanking him closer. “He doesn’t seem to mind, mm? What’s your problem with it?”

He pouted out his lips, feigning innocence. His tone doing nothing but stoking the small flame of annoyance in your chest. His puppy eyes were on display, seeming to plead his case with you, but you wouldn’t give in this time. You wouldn’t have minded him joining in, but it was the fact that he just showed up with no word. It was painfully rude. Especially when he seemed less than interested that morning. Your eyes flit to your friends, pitying his position, “Sorry for him-“

“Sorry for what!” Satoru’s loud voice rang out, “I’m a delight!” His voice indignant. You huff out, before hearing the waiter approach the table. She eyed your situation, before flushing at Gojo. Ugh.

“What can I get started for you~?” Her pitch was a bit grating to your ears. Maybe you were being too critical? But the way she eyed up Satoru solidified your critique. Absolutely grating.

Satoru smiled at the soured look painted across your face. It only got worse when the waitress came over, practically tripping over him. It did nothing to help his ego, and he pat your friend on the back, a little more forcefully than he intended before letting go. He was irritated that you were here. That you’d chosen a little date with this waste of space sitting next to him.

His grin was wide, as he made sure to eye you down—gauging your every reaction. But your eyes were on the waitress. Not him. And that annoyed him even more than he cared to admit.

“Mmm” he hummed out, turning his charm up. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so…He leaned over the table, resting his head on one hand, making eye contact with the waitress,

“What’s your sweetest dish?” The question was innocent enough. His tone light—somewhat suggestive, he knew you wouldn’t like it. The waitress flushed, and she looked away, giggling. The sound was a bit annoying, he’d admit.

He didn’t like playing this game, but he couldn’t control his actions when it came to you. His eyes flit back to you-just marginally, hoping he’d find you looking over at him. But you wouldn’t turn your fuckin’ head.

He reminded himself that it was fine. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to remind you who really mattered here.

His competition was sat to his right, his grin uneasy and uncomfortable. Satoru could tell he was a fish out of water, and it satisfied him to no end knowing that he knew. He knew he could never size up to the Satoru Gojo.

If you didn’t see it, he’d just have to show you. Show you that he was the more desirable option. The better pick.

If others showed some interest in him then maybe you’d see it? He contemplated flirting some more, giving you a taste of your own medicine. He eyed the waitress shamelessly, hoping you saw him. Only for a moment.

But his thoughts were racing, and he felt somewhat desperate and out of control. You still refused to look at him, and it really was starting to drive him crazy. If only you hadn’t come out to see this fuckin shrimp.

He wouldn’t wait around for you. He didn’t need you.

But that was a lie. And he knew it. He was just jealous. And he didn’t know how to convey it.

But he knew how to get your attention.

Instigating obvious sexual tension for weeks. Act nonchalant when you spoke about your childhood friend—randomly, your supposed dinner plans with him. Pretend to ignore you as you left the house dressed up that sleek form fitting black dress.

✨Show up when you least expected it.✨ Make your friend uncomfortable, putting you in an awkward position. Flirt with the waitress right in front of you when he felt like you hated him. When he felt like you preferred someone else’s company. And now?

What else could he do to garner your attention? He could make good on his comment from before, bringing her home and fucking her right next to your bedroom door.

But the thought disgusted him. He couldn’t even picture it. And when it reached his mind, he pulled back from the flirting immediately. You glared at him now, your arms crossing over yourself in a self soothing gesture. He couldn't understand how you were able to come out like this. Not when he revolted at the idea of even touching another woman. How could you so casually sit across from another man and eat dinner like it was nothing?

And like always, Satoru took it too far. But damn if it didn’t get him results.

Your eyes were back on him.

“Right, I think I’ll be leaving now—“ you stood up, not even having placed your order. The waitress caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Before you could finish raising from the chair, Satoru followed suit. Standing up frighteningly fast, causing you to stumble back. His quick reflexes caught you on instinct, straightening you back upright. You shrugged him off, not feeling too fond of the white haired sorcerer at the moment.

You looked over at your friend, “I’m so sorry, we’ll just meet up next time, okay?”

Your voice so sincere it made Satoru’s chest hurt. His cursed energy licking up his insides. He could barely reign in the emotions he felt kicking back up. He watched the exchange with growing annoyance, as your friend slowly stood up, agreeing. He hugged you before parting ways, and before Satoru could utter a word, you were flying past him, the opposite way.

“Hey, wait!” His long legs catching up with you quickly. You ignore him, opting to pretend he didn’t exist in that moment.

You were still fucking hungry. And now you were cold, the nighttime air biting at your exposed legs. You walked for a few blocks, as Satoru silently tailed behind you. He hadn’t said a word, and you hadn’t bothered looking back to check if he was still following. You’d been looking for a decent food stall you could buy some noodles at.

Sure, Satoru hasn’t specifically come out and said he’d refrain from talking to other girls. But you didn’t think he’d be so blatant with his flirting. And right in front of you. Right in front of your friend? How embarrassing.

Your conversation flitted back into your mind, remembering the possessive tinge to his words. As long as you stayed with him. And as long as you didn’t see anyone else. No labels needed.

You so badly wished he’d been more forward with his intentions. It almost felt like he was stringing you along. Did he even care about you the way you cared for him? You hadn’t even kissed him yet. But you’d heard the way he’s climaxed. Those two didn’t fit together, you thought.

But you weren’t sure you wanted to kiss him with the little tantrum he’d thrown earlier. And his blatant disregard for your feelings. Did all of that not apply to him? None of it made sense.

And now he was invading your other friendships, putting you in shitty positions by making you look bad. All you wanted was a chill night out. Catching up with a long time friend. Hearing about the new gossip around your hometown. It’d be ages since you’d gone out.

“You ready to talk?” His voice irritated you to no end, your head snapping back to look at him. Only to find yourself looking up. When had he gotten so close? You’d been so surprised you stumbled. “Wha—“

His cocked head back, looking down at you with icy eyes, stopping you in your tracks. Was that malice?—He pulled you off the side of the road, tugging you by your arm into a dim alleyway. You stumbled over your heels before you felt your back hit the freezing wall. He had you caged again, his hands on either side of your head.

“Let’s talk.” He’d decided for you. Voice dipping low, you felt a shudder run up your back. From the cold? or him? you aren’t sure. “Satoru-“ “Are you doing this on purpose.” His voice heavy, still maintaining a teasing lilt to his voice. Always teasing.

“Doing what?”

“Playing these little mind games.” He seemed to seethe, now, “Mind games?” You parrot, dumbfounded at his accusation. What the hell was he on about?

“Yes” he hissed out, laughing, “your little games.” His tone boarded on hysterical now, blindsiding you in seconds. The whiplash inevitable. He seemed to break at your lack of adequate response. Where was this coming from?

He leaned in closer, breath tickling your ear, “I can put up with the moaning and the whimpering coming from your room. The slutty clothes you wear around the house. The sly little looks you give me. The way you call my name in your sleep.” His voice teetering on the edge. “But I won’t have you running around in that skimpy outfit, meeting up with other men for dinner.” words harsh, and blunt.

Was that really how he saw you? Some needy whore he put up with? The thought made you cringe. Why’s he being so mean?

“If you didn’t want me there then you should have said something, Satoru.” You spat his name out like it was a rotten bite of food. Ignoring the fact that he’d finally addressed what you’d been skirting around these past few weeks.

But you’re too moody to deal with his bullshit right now. You go to move, wanting to just go home, “its none of your business what I wear, and who I go out with—“ He uses his body weight to his advantage pressing you back against the wall, his leg slitting between yours, easily riding up your dress. This position feeling uncannily familiar. His hand finds purchase in your hair, yanking your head back to look up at him, holding you in place.

“None of my business? No, Sugar. I’d definitely have to disagree.” His voice cold, any trace of teasing long gone. You struggled a little now, not knowing where he was going with this. But his eyes seemed to be swirling. He had to be going crazy. You refused to respond to this. He wasn’t acting like himself— “Should I just lock you up? Chain you to my bed?” You choke on your own spit. Maybe it’s just a bad joke? But that tone. And his eyes—“Y’know I could, right?” But he isn’t joking. This feeling—his cursed energy licking up your sides, pooling off of him. He wasn’t reining it in. This wasn’t your best friend— “wouldn’t even need your permission. Got a whole place where noooo one else would hear you.” He’s talking to himself—at you. You couldn’t find the words to respond. “You’re lucky I’m so nice.”

You’re shaking now, feeling his cursed energy press into you from every angle. He was suffocating, and for the first time you felt really felt scared of him. That strength always there but he’d never pointed it at you. This felt like a bad dream, your stomach twisting in knots. You just wanted him to stop.

“No other man would let his woman leave the house like that. Dolling herself up to meet some other guy. Whoring herself out-“ “Satoru…please.” His eyes seemed to finally refocus on you.

Your trembling form, the tears pooling in your eyes. From any other man’s perspective, it’d be the right thing to pull back, and let you breathe. If he were any other man, he might’ve given in and given you that comfort you so desperately craved right then and there.

And if it had been any other situation he would have.

He stood between your legs, your tight black dress bunched up high on your thighs. You were straining for some stability. He could feel your heat through your panties, and it made him feel that much more feral. Tears pooled around your eyes in the most provocative way, your lips twisted up like you were ready to cry. The image of you had been burned into his mind. He remembered how pretty you looked when you cried.

Your form trembling beneath him, gave him back all the control he’d lost when he was back at that table. You couldn’t have had any other ideas, coming out tonight looking like that. And to think if he hadn’t shown up, you’d still be sitting there across from another man. Having to watch you doll yourself up for anyone but him.

He hadn’t thought long about it before. What he’d actually do if you decided to try and find another partner. He was always so sure you’d be there for him. By his side. He’d always been the best. The strongest. Who wouldn’t want Satoru Gojo as a partner? He’d been waiting for you. Waiting for you to make a move, for you to come to terms with your feelings and give him more to work with. Flirting, in the only way he knew how. And he thought it’d been going pretty well. Considering how you responded to all of his advances.

But now. Now he couldn’t stand it. The concept of you leaving the house. The concept of you going on dates. The days leading up to tonight, you’d been going out more. Something he couldn’t stand. You’d gone too far this time. Satoru had already come to terms with all of his feelings. It was about time you did too. But he didn’t intend to play nice after what you’d done.

“What’s wrong?” He feigned a comforting tone. You began sniffling, trying to keep it together. “You gonna fuckin’ cry? After stringing me along like that?”

Looking up at him with those eyes. It made him fuckin insane. Your voice was shaky, “I didn’t—“ “I know you’re not gonna say you didn’t try and play me. You wouldn’t be that stupid to think this whole mess was a good idea? That you’d forgotten what I told you before.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind so hazy and frazzled from your oncoming mental breakdown. He wasn’t helping it either with his incessant badgering. He was easily overcrowding you, his frame blocking your field of view. Your breathing picked up as you felt your vision closing in. He was everywhere. And all in between.

You’d wanted to tell him you really had only been going out to see a friend. And you really didn’t think it was that far off to assume you and Satoru weren’t together. But it was a little silly saying that. To not feel somewhat responsible for this. He was jealous of your friend. Fine. You could work with that. But were you dating? Did he consider what you’d had an actual relationship? You hadn’t even talked about it. Really talked about it. You kept repeating to yourself that you could fix this. You struggled to find the breaths and the words to voice your placations.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice somewhat breathy from panic. “Huuhh~” his voice drawn out, boarding on cruel (in your opinion) “What’d you say?” He leaned closer, voice lowering. “you’re too quiet.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” Your voice wobbled, as you tried not to cry. A tear made its way down your cheek despite your best efforts. You still loved him. Despite how much he was scaring you right now. You still loved your best friend. “Aww~” his thumb wiped away your tear, “you think a ‘sorry’s gonna cut it?” You couldn’t stop the trembling now, his actions boarding on unpredictable. He wasn’t being the best right now, but when this was over, it would all be ok. Everything would be ok.

Satoru had to think quickly. And his mind was running a mile a second. He had you pinned against himself and the wall, the alleyway hidden from flooded roads.

It was late, and the odds of being interrupted were low. He wouldn’t let the moment slip. He had to solidify his place in your life. Had to push past your thoughts of him being friendly or playful. He’d say anything—do anything if it meant no one else’d have you. And that thought terrified him. He was positive that if another man touched you, he’d rip his throat out. Without batting an eye. He’d been ready to do so had your “friend” given any slight hint of wanting to hook up. He had been so sure he’d scared him away last time, but it seems he hadn’t taken the hint.

You watched Satoru carefully, his words sinking in. You still had no idea what he wanted from you. Had he not wanted an apology? Was he teasing you again? “Satoru, I don’t know—“ he quickly leaned in—kissing you. His teeth nearly knocking against yours as he further dominated your space. His hand still tangled up in the back of your hair.

He groaned into you, rocking himself closer against your cunt. You were so out of breath, you opened for air, only to have his tongue push through your lips. The feeling of him —all of him—was enough to make your head spin and your mind go blank. His proximity calmed your nerves in a way that made you feel more antsy than ever before. His hands left your hair, and began to roam. Feeling, clinging to places he hadn’t been before. At least not ‘intentionally’.

Giving you a second to breathe, his eyes darted, trailing his hands, his head resting on your shoulder. He was panting like a dog now. He’d never felt so riled up. It was only when he was with you. Only with you.

He’d easily found his way under your dress, tugging the fabric up to expose you to the cold night air. “W-wait, please—“ Your tugging on his arm did nothing to stop him, as his free hand found its way around your neck. A firm warning to shut up. His other hand, groping at your pillowy thighs, making their way up your side, fingers toying the underside of your bra. He shifted his thigh, pushing it right against your clothed cunt. You’d let out a breathy moan at this, as he loosed his hold on your neck.

He could see the way you responded to him. You were just as desperate as he was. He could feel you grind your hips against his thigh. The fabric of his pants dampening from the contact, as he released a string of curses. Your nails clawing into his shoulders as he started leaving wet open mouthed kisses against your neck. You felt so fucking good. He could feel himself succumbing to your needy whimpers, placing his clothes cock right where your entrance was hiding. His hips setting a rhythm that left you whining against him. He never wanted this to end.

All those nights spent listening to your siren’s call through the walls. All of those nights spent listening to your needy whines and whimpers. Begging for someone to come fuck you. Watching you through those cameras. Fucking his fist so hard, til he became his own needy pathetic whimpering mess. So close, yet he wasn’t ever able to touch. You were a fucking tease. And he loved every bit of you.

You were panting again. You felt yourself grow wet, your thighs seeking some friction against his leg. You needed to hold onto something. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You wet, baby?” His voice was teasing again, loving the way your pussy seemed to beg for him. He’d slotted himself fully between you, holding one of your legs up only to grind against your soaked pussy. When you don’t respond, his fingers curl around your neck tighter. You nod, breathlessly. “yes, yes, please, feel s’good” you’re fighting to stand, balancing on one leg, but you were sure he’d catch you if you stumbled.

“Ah, so honest. Where was this good girl earlier?” He felt his cock strain against his pants, almost painfully. “So obedient now.” Your eyes glazed, you mind filling with lewd fantasies of him spanking you black and blue for disobeying his word. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you sure as hell weren’t ready for this man. “Want me to fuck you here?”

His eyes watched you closely, scanning for any sign that you wanted him to stop. Though he doesn’t think he’d stop even if you had wanted him to. Finding nothing but lust clouding your vision, his fingers press in between your legs, edging the spot you needed him the most. He traced circles across your clit, stalling his dry humping. He was tempted just to eat out your pretty pussy there and now, feeling the slick pooling on his fingers. “Satoru,” you let out a breathy whine, bucking your hips.

“There you go. Look at you. You’re drenched for me.” You didn’t have the head space to be embarrassed now. When his fingers finally found your clit, it was game over. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately holding yourself up. His hand around your thigh offering some support as your knees buckled under you.

“Do you think you deserve to cum tonight?” Your gaze desperately snaps up to his. Your eyes pleading to let you cum. Begging him. He’s smiling at you, a genuine lazy smile. But his eyes do all the talking. “Answer me, pretty girl.”

You nod eagerly, feeling your hips push against his fingers again. He’s circling, slow and steady, painfully slow, never dipping into your dripping hole.

“Where’d that honesty go?” He narrowed his eyes, tutting. “Think long and hard about what you did tonight. Why you shouldn’t have gone out with him.” His words continued to wrap around your haze ridden mind, his pace picking up finally. “why you shouldn’t make me do unnecessary shit to earn your attention.” His voice nearing hostile now, as he rubbed your clit with damn near precision. “You think I like seeing you with him? That I like other men’s eyes on this body.” He was relentless in his pace, you felt yourself close, body stilling and mind barely listening, nails biting into him. You tried so hard to listen to him. So hard to be a good girl. So hard not to cum. “You’re mine. Everything that involves you, involves me. Every part of you—mine. Don’t you fuckin’ forget who you belong to.”

The sound of his voice mixed with his fingers slotting against you—not even inside you yet—had you climaxing hard. Your pussy clenching-pulsating around nothing. Satoru watch you come down from your high, transfixed on your face. On the way your hips pushed into him. The way your cum mixed slick coated his hand and fingers, dripping on his thigh. He was fucking obsessed. His fingers continue slowly circling your clit, maintaining a slow punishing pace. Your body going through shockwaves with each swipe, you desperately wiggle to get away, feeling heavily overstimulated.

“Please-please stop, ‘Toru, please, please” your whimpers and pleas going straight to his cock head. He couldn’t stop himself from abusing your cunt, wanting nothing more than to watch you squirm in his arms. He’d be nice.

He brought his fingers to his lips, taking a long digit into his mouth. Something he’d never wanted to do before. He just couldn’t help the morbid curiosity—what did you taste like? And fuck you tasted amazing. He cleaned his fingers, eyeing you hungrily.

“Who knew you’d be so naughty? Did you even listen to me?” His tone taunting, as if he were scolding a child. He flipped you around, pushing your chest against the wall, practically bending you over. It was uncomfortable to say the least. When you tried to move, he pressed his chest up against your back, leaning over you. Locking you in place. You felt his dick pressed against your ass, his hands on your hips.

“Stay still for me, yeah?” He rutted against you, letting out a strained groan.

“S’not fair.” He huffed against your neck, dry fucking you against the wall. Your previous slick trailing down your leg. You needed him inside you. So so so badly. “You don’t play fair.”

His hand finally made its way back to what you sure was a rats nest of hair. He’d already tangled it up either way. He finally had enough of the teasing, pulling himself free from his pants. He slotted himself between your folds, gathering some least your honeyed goodness before brutally thrusting into you.

He’d buried himself to the hilt, his hand holding your hip in place—leaving you no where to go. You’d wiggled to move away, and at your whimper, he all but growled into your neck, “take it. You’ll take it til I’m done. You hear me?”

He pulled himself to the tip before slamming himself into again, repeating the process over and over and over. The position had him hitting your sweet spot each thrust, the quiet whimpers turning into louder moans as his hand found its way to your mouth, fingers thrusting inside, gagging you. “You forget where we are? Pipe down, pretty girl. Don’t wanna get caught, do you?” He left his fingers in your mouth, fucking fiercely into you. Driving into you with a force that left you gasping. Each push pulled you closer to the edge as you felt like you were going to—needed to cum again.

He felt your cunt clench around his dick, felt it more than you knew. He felt everything tenfold, his infinity working overtime on all of his senses. His cursed energy never dropping. Felt your cunt pulsating around him, heard every wet slap his balls made against your puffy clit. Felt how you clenched up when he spoke to you, and wondered if you were always like that. His skin was set on fire—every part that touched you, burned.

“Shouldn’t even be getting off to this, y’know? Supposed to be my turn.” Each word enunciated by a rough thrust into you, your hushed moans and pants spurring him on. He was convinced you were his everything. You were just so tight and so warm. He wasn’t able to hold back when he pumped you full, his seed deep inside. He moaned out your name as he felt your cunt spasming around his dick. Sucking him in, milking his cock dry. His fingers slipping from your lips—tightly gripping your neck, his other brushing your hip.

He hadn’t bothered pulling out. Why would he? It wasn’t like he’d planned on letting you leave in the first place.

[roosterforme]

Geriatric Millennial | Rooster x Reader

Bradley loves all things '90s. You don't completely understand it, but you appreciate his spirit.

1000 words

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

There were certain scenarios that became normal over time when you were in a relationship with a man more then ten years your elder. Sometimes you didn't understand certain movie references. Slang words and jokes occasionally went over your head. He and his friends would often reminisce about trends you'd never witnessed. But Bradley never made you feel bad about it, and you never called him an old-timer unless you were joking.

You were used to these things, but nothing quite prepared you for what you saw when you got home from work. Bradley was relaxing on the couch in something that looked like a bright blue, full body straitjacket with some random vintage headphones on his head.

"What the fuck?" you muttered, inching closer when you realized he was listening to music and hasn't spotted you yet. You glanced around the room, trying to locate the source of disturbing chattering sound that just started, and you tripped over a hard, black ball.

Bradley looked up at you with a smile. "Hey, you're home early." He quickly stood in his weird, fleece outfit and leaned in to give you a kiss, but you leaned away.

"What on earth is happening here?" you asked, standing frozen as he pulled his headphones off.

"What are you talking about?" He looked puzzled by your words but not by all of the weird things in the living room. 

"I'm talking about what you're wearing. And the robotic voice!"

"Oh," he laughed. "This is just my Snuggie."

"Your what?"

He glanced down at himself. "My Snuggie? I found it in a box of my stuff from highschool."

You were still so confused. "What's a Snuggie? And what is that weird sound?"

When his gaze fell to something fuzzy and brown on the couch, you jerked back in shock. "You mean my Furby?"

You glared at the critter and it's enormous, evil eyes. "Is that one of those things from that '80s Gremlins movie you're obsessed with?"

He barked out a laugh like you'd just said the funniest thing he'd ever heard in his life. "Baby, no. It's not a Gremlin. It's just a Furby. But imagine if Furby manufactured replica Gremlins... Would have been fascinating." It was starting to sound like he was speaking a foreign language. "I was just listening to Chumbawamba on my Discman and playing with my pogs and my Tomagachi. I literally forgot the Furby was even here."

You were sure you were gaping at him like he had two heads as you reached up to run your palm across his forehead. "Do you have a fever?"

"Huh? No, but I did eat a Kudos bar I found in the box, so I might potentially have an upset stomach later. But it was worth it."

After you punched the bridge of your nose, you asked, "I'm sorry, but what did you say you were listening to?"

"Tubthumping. By Chumbawamba. You know it, don't you? Pissing the night away, pissing the night away. I get knocked down...." He looked at you in wide eyed shock. "You don't know that song? How is that possible?"

You didn't want to tell him that Chumba whatever wasn't a word. And neither was Snuggie. Not when he looked so adorably baffled. You stroked your fingers across his forehead and down his cheek as you shook your head.

"No, I don't know that song, because I'm not forty like you are. And you look kind of alarming in this thing." You pinched the fleece fabric and pulled it away from his body.

"It's my Snuggie," he muttered. "It was from an Infomercial."

"I don't know what that means." He gasped and you started laughing. "But I would love to sit down with you while you explain it to me. As long as you don't make me eat something from the late 1900s."

He took your hand in his bigger one and and led you toward the couch and the demonic looking Furby. "Okay, but first, you need to listen to this CD. Because Jake told me Chumbawamba is a guilty pleasure, but it's actually really good."

About twenty minutes later, you were wrapped up in the Snuggie, enveloped in softness and Bradley's lingering body warmth. "I love this thing," you told him, burying your face in the fleece. "And yes, Chumbawamba is good, but I like Hoobastank better. And I'm really sorry I accidentally kicked your Magic 8 ball across the floor."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kissed your cheek as you skipped a track on his Discman. "That's okay. Hey, do you want to learn how to play pogs? The best part is, I'm not sure there are actually any rules at all."

"Sure," you said with a shrug. "Why the hell not? As long as you lock that Furby away and never let it out ever again."

"Heard."

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[koi-p0nd]

Good morning,afternoon, and nights!

I was wondering if can you do an imagine of reader protecting Anya from jimmy before and after the crash? Which reader always giving a bitchy attitude to j#### and reader giving self defense tools to Anya just in case. (The self defense weapons are a taser,a pocket kn’fe, and a pink decorated pepper spray)

-anonymous

Omg hi hello????? I woke up around an hour and a half ago????

(Am I that good of a writer???? Lmao kidding)

Anya getting self defense lessons and weapons from reader with an attitude? To keep the Bad Stinker Man away? Yes.

Okay, since I'm still trying to get back into writing again, this might be a bit wonky and not really up to what others can make but I'm trying my best here :')

I think imma make like a list or smth, I dunno, but I hope it works :D

I also decided to change the pocket knife to a swiss army knife, thought that she could use the different things on it for more than self defense or to give some more severe injuries to Stinker.

Mouthwashing Anya x Reader. (Platonic)

"Don't be afraid to use force, girl." (Not proof read)

Before the crash:

Way long before the crash, just a few weeks or months after taking off with the ship Anya had told you about getting weird vibes from Jimmy.

It was kind of obvious as to why she would go to you and just quietly voice her suspicions to you, you literally had a tazer and can off pepper spray clipped to your uniform belt out in the open.

She was glad for that, honestly.

After she told you about this, you kept an extra eye on Jimmy whenever he were nearby you and/or Anya. Watching like a hawk.

There was constant bitchy attitude from you towards Jimmy when he and you interreacted. It always pissed him off.

It wasn't pretty arguments and fights over something small and irrelevant.... Swansea, Daisuke and Curly had to often break you two apart....

Not even a week later, you offered to teach Anya some self defense.

Shock and surprise was the only thing that Anya could express for a few moments. Understandable.

Who in the world would offer a colleague, who you barely know anything about, self defense?

Well... You did.

Not out of pity, of course not. You just wanted to teach her so she could beat Jimmy up if she needed to and no one was around.

Anyways

Anya had gladly taken the offer from you. Grateful that you just decided to spend your free time in training her and teaching her things.

Although she felt a little guilty for it.

Hush girly, don't feel bad. You deserve to knock Jimmy's teeth out<3

She was ectsatic and giddy internally when she got her own self defense tools from you; a tazer, a somewhat old swiss army knife and the pepper spray decorated in pink.

You just smiled at how giddy she looked.

After the crash:

After the crash. Hmm....

Things went to hell, basically.

Curly was a burnt, crispy nugget (sorry Curly😭)

Let's just say that Anya has used her tazer quite a lot of times on Jimmy out of spite or when he was getting up in her space.

The pepper not so much, she wants to save as much of it to really bad situations. Since the water supply is not that big on the ship.

The army knife is more used to be a every day life tool, using the various things on it for various things. Has occasionally had the knife of it pointed at Jimmy, as well as the tazer/pepper spray in her other hand.

She is so very gratefull for having you as her self defense teacher. She can sucker punch Jimmy if she feels really fed up with Jimmy.

I hope this is what you asked for :') and sorry if it's bad😭 I'm trying to get my writing skills back...

[multific]

Saved Him

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When news came to you about Chrissy's death, you wondered just why she was with your boyfriend at the time. You knew he had a crush on her a while back but Eddie swore he was over her because he liked you.

A Satanist?

A cultist?

A murderer?

Your Eddie?

No.

These people were just blinded by rage and fear. 

Jason was also blind.

And fucking dumb.

He claims he saw things. Which you don't deny, but it wasn't Eddie's doing. And you knew that better than anyone.

You have been his friend since middle school, and his girlfriend for the last 2 years. You knew him better than anyone. 

You knew about his struggles, hobbies, friends, and favourite places. You knew everything.

And you also had a feeling about where to find him.

Skull Rock.

You followed the kids there and surely enough, there he was.

"Eddie?" 

"Y/N!" he rushed to you, hugging you. "I didn't do any of that."

"I know." you hugged him tighter. "I know you didn't." you smiled as you pulled back and he kissed you. 

The same kiss he always gave you when you felt bad, to calm you, to encourage you, to show you that he loves you.

But this kiss was also filled with fear.

You heard the others groan as Dustin spoke. 

"We don't have time for this."

You had a lot of catch-up to do. And you couldn't wait for an explanation. 

But now, for now, you were just happy to have your Eddie back.

Later, as everyone was getting ready, you watched Dustin and Eddie bond before he came over to you.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked and you looked into his eyes.

"I understand the nightmares come from Vecna, I understand how miserable it must be to have such nightmares. What I don't get is why was she at your place?"

"Is that really all you can think about when we are heading to death?"

You looked at him with no emotion on your face, but your eyes said every word your mouth refused. 

He let out a sigh and grabbed your hands into his.

"I do not, did not love Chrissy. She wanted to put her mind at ease because of the nightmares. I only wanted to help her."

"But you get it how it looks? Do you know how many times I have Jason tell me that his girlfriend was with my boyfriend when she died? Do you know the whispers and looks I got?"

"Why do you care so much about what people say?"

"Because they are telling me that you cheated on me. That you don't love me and it fucking hurts, Eddie." you tried your best not to raise your voice, the others don't need to hear your argument.

"But I do love you and I would never cheat on you, Darling."

"I know. This is why I feel like I'm being pulled into two pieces. One part of me understands and knows that you love me. The other is extremely jealous and furious."

"No need for you to be jealous, My Love." he lifted and kissed the back of your hand. "I promise, I only love you."

"I love you too Eddie." the sincere look in his eyes helped you calm down the rising storm.

---

Eddie was being attacked when you let out a yell. To save his life, you needed the attention of those flying things.

"HEY YOU DUMB THINGS FOLLOW ME!" you yelled and it got their attention. "Dustin! Help Eddie!" you yelled as you ran away. 

You managed to lock yourself into a car hoping those things would give up.

But as they banged on the windows and doors of the car, you weren't so sure you would survive.

One moment later, it all stopped.

All banging, all screaming, everything just stopped.

It took you a couple of minutes to get out of the car, you looked for Eddie and Dustin and you soon found them in the trailer. You rushed over to Eddie and hugged him.

"You saved me." he said. "Thank you." he tightened his grip as you let out a long sigh of relief.

He was alive.

He was fine.

He was holding you.

"I love you." 

He loved you.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv, I loved the hidden gem list that you did in the past. I discovered so many new authors thanks to you. I love going back to my all time favourite authors but I also love discovering new ones. Would you or any of your followers have any hidden gems recs ? Could be long or short fics. Thank youuuu

I’m so happy to hear that! The hidden gems series is very dear to my heart and probably my favorite project. I started a s2 back in 2022 and have a few lists saved in my drafts, maybe I will revisit them in the new year… we’ll see! I found some additional rec posts that might interest you here, here and here. I haven’t read much this year, but if you’re looking for new-ish works I’d highly recommend the fics below, and also my reclist for the h/c fest. I’m sure my followers have more recs. Enjoy! 💜

Train Song by @fw00shy (T, 1.2k)

"Imagine: An extended summer vacation," Ginny said when she first pitched the trip to the group. "Fine," Hermione said after only a moment's hesitation, to which everyone cheered, because everyone knew she was the only one who could figure out how to make the Hogwarts Express fly.

All I Think About by @skeptiquewrites (T, 4.5k)

Sometimes all it takes is one perfect late summer night in June.

mind the gap by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 5k) - MCD

The first time Draco died was by far the worst. Once Potter started living with him, it got better.

everything you should say by icarusinflight (E, 7.5k)

They're not friends. But when Draco offers help, Harry takes it.

Tarry, Tarry, Wait For Me by @toomuchplor (E, 8.5k)

"I can't ask it of you," Draco says, quick and awkward, "I just thought you should know, I thought you needed to know, but none of this is your fault."

Seasons by @greattemptation (E, 9k)

Seconds pass, and it’s like he can see Draco worrying the sliver of glass in his heart, looking for a way to press it out, to expose the wound to the sun. It’s life; Harry can be patient.

Necro-romance by @thehoneybeet (E, 9k)

The first time Draco kills Potter, it's by accident.

like a scratch on the roof of your mouth by @eleadore (E, 9k)

Two weeks into the new year, Draco Malfoy saves Ron's life in a spectacular fashion.

coyote ugly by @garagepaperback (E, 10k)

One night, every month, Harry is a coyote. Malfoy has a silver tooth. Sometimes, he cuts Harry’s hair.

draco malfoy's substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (E, 10k)

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

When the Flood Comes by @academicdisasterfic (E, 10k)

Nine years on from the war, Auror Potter is upholding the Ministry of Magic's rule of law. Senior legal counsel Draco Malfoy is challenging it.

Wobble Week 2023 by @moonflower-rose (E, 12k)

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

With Hands Full of Dusk by @corvuscrowned (E, 15k)

Harry thought he'd found what he was searching for after the war. But as the quiet life he's earned begins to unravel at the seams, he finds himself searching instead for an elusive, mythical creature found only in lore and legend - with none other than Draco Malfoy as his companion.

Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog (E, 18k)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Sun Thief by BlackRose532, @floydig (E, 28k)

Or: Harry beats up a pimp and isn’t sorry about it, Draco deals black market potions, and they’re shagging. Again.

Truth to Materials by lately, @toomuchplor (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.