#me: an overwhelmed hoe

[clonewarsahsoka]

Been fighting against my own brain alllllllllllll day

[muttplatinum]

I mean this in the kindest way possible but having a dog has solidified that I'm a cat person

[stressedjuice]

Bleachers fam we are being fed so well how we feeling

[somebody-else18]

So glad i didn't confess to that onE friend all that while ago cause my suspicions of 'em dating another person long term and being lowkey about it were RIGHT- AHA.

[hoernypie]

That boy is mine

"Sweetheart, calm down", he pants out while you bounce on his dick, nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck, I'm so mad," you pant out, "stupid hoes." Suguru would probably laugh that even after a couple of hours you still were mad at girls who talked to him on the beach, instead his hand gently puts a strand of hair behind your ear. "Babe, I told you that I'm not mad..." - one look at him and he knows that there's no point in trying to talk with you, you were too angry to act rational, she should've expected that after you left hickeys all over his neck, shoulders, and collarbones. And all of that because two girls came to him with their sweet smiles, trying to touch the scar on his chest while trying to be condescending, saying things like "Ooohh, you poor thing" or "You'd be much prettier without that scar." Who the fuck were they saying those things to him? Now your frustration made you tear up when you couldn't make yourself cum on his dick. He looked at your face, cupping your cheeks and kissing your tears off, tasting the saltiness in his mouth. Your small hands rest on his scar as he embraces you tightly, feeling your tears in the crook of his neck. "'am sorry baby...", he whispered into your ear and before you could ask why he was the one apologizing he was already holding you tight and pushing his hips up. You whined feeling his weeping tip hitting your cervix after grazing your g-spot with each thrust. Your pussy squeezed him tightly as your mind was filled with overwhelming pleasure that made your thoughts disappear as now you drooled on his dick. After a couple more pushes he filled your womb completely, pulling away and grabbing your face, demanding "Look at me, I don't care what some bimbos say about me. I care about you and your thoughts. Do you understand?" In response you only nodded, sniffing. "Good girl," he says before leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

[theswedishpajas]

It’s so hard to not just keep talking and talking and talking trying to defend myself from something that I KNOW isn’t even there

I don’t know why I have to care so much about how people see me

And it’s not that I don’t want to be seen in a bad light necessarily, I just don’t want to be viewed incorrectly.

I feel so bad I always make it everyone else’s problem when I KNOW it’s something that’s just happening in my head.

Yeah sure, rambling my whole info arc at a random person who said something without even knowing it has any connection to me might help me soothe myself cus then I’ll be an open book without space to interpret me wrong but wtf does that do to that person? Who wants to hear all that?? Jesus christ, why am I like this??

[loserboysandlithium]

18+ hoes

Eddie’s calloused fingers dig into your hips, pressing you hard into the mattress as you squirm beneath him. “Eddie please.. I can’t.” you whimper pathetically, the sound only making him chuckle into your warmth.

“Gonna give me one more, sweetheart.” he mumbles drunkenly before his long tongue is lapping at your soaked cunt once again.

“I- Eddie, I can’t.” you squeal as tears flood your cheeks, your clit puffy and red from his constant torture.

“Wasn’t a request, Princess. Now give me one more.” he smirks up at you just as he shoves three thick fingers inside your pussy, immediately curling them right into your sweet spot.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” the word falls from your lips again and again as Eddie brings you right to the edge of your sixth orgasm.

“P-please. Eddie please.” you whine, your heels dig into the mattress as you try to push your body away from him begging for an ounce of relief. It does nothing but make him fuck his fingers into you faster. The loud squelching of your drenched pussy heard above all else.

“That’s not your safe word, baby.” Eddie winks up at you before burying his face once again, his lips wrapping around your sensitive clit, tugging it into his mouth relentlessly. Your entire body feels like it’s floating, every touch from him making it that much harder to breathe.

You can taste your safe word on your lips, your body completely overwhelmed, your hair sticking to your forehead with sweat, your cries coming out hoarse as he continues destroying you. But you keep quiet. Because you want it. You need it.

You let go one more time, allowing yourself to give into him entirely. You feel your pussy walls clenching down hard around his ringed fingers as your head falls back into the soft sheets. Stars flood your vision as your hips jerk against his hold on you.

Eddie pops off your clit, his eyes now locked on your beautiful face as your mouth drops open with a silent scream. “Fuck, there it is. Let it all go baby. Such a good slut for me. Soak my fuckin’ hand.”

You can barely hear his words of praise as your highest high hits you. You can feel the warmth as your cum runs down to your ass, your thighs soaked as well.

Eddie gives you a second for your body to relax before he slowly removes his fingers, bringing them straight to your lips, making you suck them clean. He leans down licking a long stripe against your pussy, your hand automatically reaching out, striking him hard across the cheek. Your eyes widen as a dark smile forms on his pretty lips.

“Oh, baby. Now you’re in for it.”

[judesprincess]

NSFW ALPHABET – Jude Bellingham

note: hii babes, how are you? look, this is my first time posting something like this and English is not my first language so i ask you to be kind and ignore any mistake pls

ps: let me know if you like this, kisses 💋

a = aftercare (how they are after sex)

he would definitely be extremely careful and gentle after sex. constantly asking if he hurt you and checking your body; he knows how rough he can be (especially when he is frustrated), so he is quick to take care of you right after you are done having sex. he cleans you up while kissing you tenderly and repeating how good you felt; he always asks if you have cramps from penetration and if you do, he makes a nice warm compress to put on you. he holds you protectively and cuddles you until you fall asleep.

b = body part (his and his partner's favorite part)

he loves every part of your body, but besides that, I feel like he's the kind of man who likes curves, so I feel like he's obsessed with your ass, like he can't stop slapping and squeezing it... he also loves kissing and biting it and the sight of it all red from his slaps drives him crazy... I bet he would love your hips, he just loves holding them while he pounds you from behind

you see, when we talk about his favorite part of him i think that this man is definitely very proud of what he carries between his legs (those celebrations and demonstrations don't tell me otherwise), he just loves how impressed you are every time you see him naked (no matter how many times you've seen him like that) and how much you fight to take him every time... i bet he also loves his biceps, especially when he catches you staring at them shamelessly

c = cum (anything to do with cum)

he definitely loves cumming inside you. for him, there is nothing better than finishing inside you and seeing his cum dripping out;  he'd never admit it out loud, but you both knew it was primal, he just loved the idea of ​​claiming you like that and he loved even more the way you trusted him to let him do something so intimate

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he secretly wants to try anal sex with you, but he'll never ask you out loud because he doesn't want to pressure you into doing something just to please him

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

let's be honest, that man is a hoe, he's definitely experienced (especially for his age), but i think he had to hold back in the beginning of the relationship to keep up with you, since you weren't experienced (let's ignore the fact that i'm basing this on my lack of experience) and he didn't want to scare you or overwhelm you with the dirty things he wanted to do to you

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

to me there are two sides to him, one dirty and naughty and the other gentle and caring; so I think there will be nights when he will put you on all fours and fuck you until you beg for mercy and other nights when he will go in the classic mommy and daddy style and make love to you softly and lovingly while whispering in your ear how beautiful and special you are to him.

g = goofy (are they more serious now? are they funny? etc.)

i think he could be the kind of guy who always wants to make you comfortable and easy, so I think he would make a joke or give you a reassuring smile when he sees you are nervous or tense.

however, of course, there are days when he is not in a good mood and maybe he will be more serious and focused.

h = hair (how well-groomed is it? does the carpet match the curtains?)

honestly, he is very clean and hygienic, but I don't think he shaves;  at most, I think he trims it a little (but he's definitely well taken care of)

i = intimacy (how are they at the moment? the romantic aspect)

like I said, for me he has two sides, so it will depend a lot on the occasion and his mood. there will be days when he'll be more naughty and maybe even verbally degrade you, but there will also be days when he'll be soft and nothing but compliments and sweet words will come out of his mouth

i think he likes to set the mood beforehand, even if it's something simple and, even if you say it's old-fashioned, you secretly love how thoughtful he is about it

j =  jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he definitely does this, always thinking about you and your body;  You are far from each other and have no time for FaceTime and Jude can't stop thinking about the nights of sex he had with you and before he can even think, his hand goes up and down his cock firmly, even though he knows that his hand doesn't even compare to anything you were capable of doing to him. Of course, when you are together, he doesn't even consider touching himself, always wanting you instead.

k = kink (one or more of your kinks)

• size kink: jude definitely has a size kink, he loves how different you are physically (in every way), how short and small you are compared to him; countless times you've caught him comparing the size of your hands and smirking at how small your hand is compared to his. let me tell you, that man definitely loves how different you are down there too, he absolutely loves how tight the fit is whenever he enters you

• praisy kink: that man loves to compliment and be complimented; he just loves saying nice things to you and letting you know how great you're doing. he also loves when you compliment him, when you let him know how good he makes you feel or how big he feels or even how gorgeous he is, it drives him crazy

• innocence kink: i might be crazy, but i think he would love the fact that you have no experience or little;  he would simply love the fact that he was your first and had to teach you everything, the idea of ​​molding you to his will would make him dizzy

l = location (favorite places to do the activity)

I think he is a reserved guy and, although he may allow himself to tease you in public sometimes, he always wants to keep his intimate moments away from anyone; the bedroom or any place in his house or yours (as long as they are alone) is perfect for him

m = motivation (what turns them on, keeps them going)

slightly anything; but something about feeling that you need him moves him in an unmatched way and makes him crazy with desire

n = no (something they wouldn't do, turns them off)

definitely nothing that would hurt you; also, i think he would definitely say a big no to sharing you with someone (no matter who it is)

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

that man seems like a spectacular pussy eater and he would definitely make you fall apart with those gorgeous lips

but he definitely loves a good blowjob, he just can't get over the image of your lips wrapped around his cock, he definitely loves to fuck your mouth

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

it all depends on his mood.  if it’s been a bad day or he’s really horny, he’ll definitely fuck you hard and rough (but always making sure the penetration isn’t hurting you), but on those days when things have gone well, he’ll go in slowly and gently, setting a pace

but I feel like no matter what the pace, he’ll always want to go deep, deep inside you so you can feel him completely

q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while he loves taking all the time in the world with you, he also loves quickies—anything to feel you around him—and will take you anywhere in the house

r = risk (are they willing to experiment? are they risk-takers? etc.)

he absolutely hates the idea of ​​someone catching you in such an intimate moment;  it would be the death of him to know that someone saw you as vulnerable and exposed as that must be for his eyes only

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long do they last?)

let's be real, have you ever seen the way that man runs for 90 minutes on the field?? you consider yourself a warrior for trying to keep up with his stamina; no matter how intense it was, there he is, dying to have more of you

t = toys (do they have toys? do they use them? on a partner or on themselves?)

i don't think he'd be too interested in that, although he wouldn't bug you for having some (although he would secretly be a little jealous); however, if you begged him, i think he might allow himself to use something like a cock ring

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

that man is a tease for sure, he would definitely tease you by blushing around him or being extremely wet and needy for him or even while you were struggling to get him

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he's definitely not the kind of guy who's going to be like a dead man while fucking; he'll definitely moan and grunt while mumbling dirty things to you

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

jude definitely has a "hero syndrome". he loves being your hero, no matter how silly it is; if you can't open a can or something, he's there to fix it quickly. it can be the most trivial thing, he'll want to fix it for you. he just loves the fact that you depend on him in some way – even though he knows it's lame, he can't help but feel that way – he always wants to be the guy who puts a smile on your face and who makes you feel safe and protected

x = x-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

i think we have more than enough content to say that he's huge (and he's definitely thick too);  you are absolutely struggling to take it all in

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he is literally never satisfied. he always wants more and more of you and you just love how desired he makes you feel

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he will only fall asleep after you, only after he is sure you are completely comfortable and satisfied.

well, i really hope you enjoyed it and feel free to interact with me anonymously (or not), kisses 💋

[noxtivagus]

when when hyth in hfalksdjfaklsfj

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Never Hurt Me

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series Anon's Birthday Celebration

It was his worst nightmare.

Not just his worst nightmare, his worst nightmare come to life.

He was careful about this sort of thing. Mindful of his triggers. So incredibly cautious when it came to his unyielding, vibranium arm.

He knew the damage it could cause. The pain it could inflict.

He didn't remember the nightmare. His last clear memory was slowly drifting asleep with your warm touch tracing patterns over his skin.

And then, the worst.

And he meant it.

It was the worst thing he could ever imagine himself doing. Worse than the blood staining his hands. The worst thing he would ever do.

Because he'd hurt the person that trusted him most in this world. The person he vowed to protect. The person he cherished most.

He woke to your hands clawing at his flesh. Tears streaming down your cheeks as you choked out pleas.

It took him a moment to realize what was happening, to realize it was his vibranium arm wrapped around your throat, crushing your windpipe as he hovered over you.

It hits him like a bucket of cold water. He jolts away, immediately releasing his grip.

You scramble away from him, violently coughing and sputter. You topple off the bed in your fearful state, doing anything in your power to get as far away from him as possible.

You double over on the floor, still gasping for air. Bucky immediately goes to you, trying to check on you, to comfort you, to do anything to take away the pain he's inflicted.

He touches your back once. Your head whips up, and it's the first time he's confronted with the physical evidence of the damage he's inflicted.

A hand shaped bruise. Black and blue. A red welt for the metal arm crushing your windpipe.

And then he wakes.

"James! James!" you violently shake him.

He jolts awake. His senses overwhelm him. A thin sheen of sweat covers his skin. He can taste the bile sitting in his throat. Most importantly, he sees you. Sitting before him. Your throat untouched. No sign of the bruising or painful red marks staining your skin.

He sputters out a sigh of relief, immediately reaching for you, praying that your touch, your warmth will somehow ground him, "You're okay."

"What?"

His eyes dart over you. You're fine. You're okay. He didn't hurt you. It wasn't real. He tosses an arm around you, he murmurs into the top of your head. "You're okay."

"You were having a nightmare." You grip his arm tightly, anchoring him back to reality. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I hurt you."

You shake your head, nothing but concern shining in your eyes. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"No, no, I hurt you. I woke up from a nightmare and my hand - it - it was around your throat."

"James, it wasn't real." Your eyes bore into his, with the most gentle of touches, you wipe away the tears that stain his cheeks. "You would never hurt me. Never."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Pleading for a whiney pussy drunk choso head canons

Pussy Drunk!Choso Headcanons

♡ NSFW, fem reader, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex + creampie, slight dom!Choso, whiny!Choso ♡

note: ahhh hi kitty Kat, this request has me 🫠 I saw your other one and it has me practically foaming at the mouth with ideas

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🩸 Pussy Drunk!Choso who gets extremely needy after the first round and practically begs for a second..and a third if you're willing

🩸 Pussy Drunk!Choso who loves to fold your legs against your chest and just wreck your pussy

🩸 Pussy Drunk!Choso who is actually extremely flexible and will bend you in whatever position he wants, regardless of whether you know you can bend that way or not

🩸 Pussy Drunk!Choso who will overstimulate you and himself just to feel you cum on his dick a few more times

🩸 Pussy Drunk!Choso who whines and moans every time he thrusts into you, feeling an overwhelming sense of pleasure at the way you're squeezing him

🩸 Pussy Drunk!Choso who buries his face in your neck and drools because your pussy is just that good

🩸 Pussy Drunk!Choso who begs to cum inside you, whimpering about how good he's been and how much he deserves it

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten

[abcdfghjklmpqrobin]

People will hate on LXC for telling WWX he was a mistake, but honestly we're not giving the guy enough credit

Like, things from his perspective ARE. A. SHITSHOW.

I mean imagine you're being supportive of your little brother's crush, he's funny, he challenges him and makes him happy, so you're like 'wooooo let's go baby brother!' and then that mf starts doing the equivalent of harcore drugs. And you're like (•᷄ △ •᷅ ;)

Then your brother starts running after him constantly, trying to help, being like 'please stop, this is bad for your health, let me help' and his crush. not only does not stop. not only does he get worse. not only does he starts fighting your brother every time they speak and making him miserable. But he doubles down and becomes a. Fucking. Convicted. Felon.

And you're like 'bro, drop this hoe omfg😰' and your brother is like 'no, I love him :('.

So then his crush kills somebody and goes on the run. And you have to watch as your baby brother decides to go against the law, against your family, ruining his life, his future and everything he has worked for. To go after this bitch that doesn't even love him back (that you know) .

Your baby brother is gonna go to fucking jail for being an accomplice. You start scrambling. Thank. Fuck. Your family is influential, so you burry his involvement and go after him. But then, WHILE PROTECTING THIS DUDE, that is constantly telling him to fuck off, mind you. Your brother hurts important people and gets LASHED.

Your baby brother gets literally almost killed. He gets send straight to the ICU. He can't walk, he can't move. Doctors aren't even sure he's going to fucking survive.

You have to see as your brother suffers, and worsens his condition by trying to get back to his crush. See him overwhelmed with pain to the point of self harm. See him sad and grieving for years.

And then. After all of that. This piece of shit, that ruined your brothers life, that ruined his mental and physical health for 13 years. That has been taunting him and testing his boundaries for months. That you let into your mother's house and into your family's secrets, only for him to break your brother's heart, again. Looks at you straight in the eye, on one of the worst days of your life, while you are going through your own breakup. And, honest to God, asks you 'Does your brother's pain have something to do with me?'...

Bruh...

I'm just saying, LXC is better than me, because if that was me 'a mistake' wouldn't be the only thing I would be calling him.

[spaceratprodigy]

I love @spaceratprodigy's captain Faith ❤️‍🔥 and if it weren't for Max my captain wouldn't hesitate to shoot her shot with her

@spaceratprodigy 🚀

[musedblues]

AMORE ~ FATI (part 2)

a/n: oh my oh my, thank you everyone for such wonderful feedback! if there is one thing im gonna be for the rest of the year it's a hoe for geta. so i could be coxed into making this a longer series if yall want 👀

warnings: READ PART 1 before this. minimal historical research. fantastical bs. graphic descriptions of murder. sexual situations. you get the gist! MINORS DNI

taglist: @nosamiam1 @screaming-blue-bagel @prestinalove @nxrdamp @alba8688 @mademoiselledreyfus @theawesomekungfupanda @peepeepoopoololswag

part 2 of ?

///

The day you wed was rushed. In the span of a handful of hours there were flowers and musicians flooding the halls. There were endless rows of fabric for you to pick from to dress in. There were a dozen hands shaping your garments to your figure. There were hundreds of spectators lingering outside the empire, waiting for you to reveal yourself as empress. There was Geta.

He looked to you as he often did, with undivided attention. He looked to you in a room full of people and his stare did not break or faulter. Geta's brown eyed gaze was all you could fixate on as the day unraveled around you, as ceremonies were followed through and as you were hurried along into becoming royalty. All you saw was Geta. All you saw was how he kept those brilliant dark eyes ever locked on yours. 

It would have overwhelmed you to otherwise look away, to think too vastly about the changes your life was catapulting through in such a short amount of time. That's why, when the ceremony had ended and the gathering to celebrate included your three dear friends, you did not know exactly how to answer their pleas for explanation. 

They were happy for you, they were shocked. You were giddy all the while, filling them in as you could, but unable to process the meaning and importance of your new status into words. Instead, you all laughed and spun about the room as musicians played. Julia was thrilled, beaming as the party raged on. She flitted from guest to guest, speaking highly of you loudly enough for you to hear every time.

And then there was Geta, with that illuminating stare ever fixated on you. As your party failed to cease and as the once set sun began to rise into a new day, Geta pulled you away from the gathering. Right in the middle of a conversation you were holding with the priest, Geta yanked you from the room and toward the staircase. He'd barely been able to pull you along toward his room without keeping his hands out from under your dress.

Geta had never displayed much patience when it came to bedding you, that morning being no exception. It seemed his door had barely shut before Geta had ripped your garments away and began to have his way with you. Not that you were complaining. You knew you were signing up for much more, marrying Geta. But you knew also, you were signing up for endless nights and days and weeks in his bed. On his floor. Against that beloved chaise lounge.

And that's where you stayed for a few turns of the sun, In that room, with Geta. He turned away every knock at the door with a booming demand they go away. He was quick to turn his undivided attention back to you, tracing his fingers across your torso, digging his teeth into your skin. He didn't let up. You never asked him to. But when the knocking became more and more persistent, you couldn't help but wonder when your never-ending  tryst may have to be halted.

"Shouldn't you be off working?" You wondered, raking back Geta's light toned locks. He leaned near the window, admiring a new sunrise with you. "Shouldn't I? Aren't I supposed to be adopting some kind of responsibility now?"

"I suppose." Geta seemed to understand. But a sly grin turned up the corners of his mouth as he turned his gaze from the sunrise to you. "But right now, you're only responsibility is to me. I command it." With a brow quirked and a gentle hand on your shoulder, Geta guided your descend till your knees met the floor in a bow before him. You knew exactly what he demanded, and you were glad to be of service.

///

When your time captive in Geta's room did eventually end, he proceeded to shower you with treasures. You were awarded cases full of paints and an entire room in the empire all to yourself- and a million canvas at your disposal. 

"Shouldn't I have more to do?" You worried to him, one evening. Wasn't the whole point of his mother's begging you to wed so you'd have some kind of influence in the royal goings on? Or was your shift in status all that you needed to represent for now?

"Would you care to do more?" Geta wondered, with a pout of a lip. "I promised you value and respect. I should like you to gain it however you please. But I should also like nothing more than for you to be free of responsibility. It adds up to madness. I'd like to keep you carefree." Geta reasoned with a smile, as his hands traced the curve of your chest. He'd been all to enthralled by your new title, by your belonging with him, to him. He'd be ever so captivated as you stayed as relentless as himself, eager as ever to find yourself between his knees. It was hard to want anything else, to long for more than his body tangling with yours. But the days did eventually move on.

Geta began to spend afternoons away from your side. But every day at his command, by others- you were presented with dozens of dresses in the finest colors you'd ever seen. You were fed the freshest foods. There was no time for you to wonder how to fill, Geta saw to your every waking moment of the day, with entertainment to squeal about and treasure to admire. Geta saw to your evenings in his room, under his touch. You saw to his pleasures all the while, ever more enthralled by how the well regarded and often harsh emperor melted in an instant under your lingering caresses.

///

Your days spun on in that same wonderous circle for a while, until Julia stepped in. One morning her highness surprised you by settling in for a meal with you; asking how you'd been adjusting to this new reality. You mentioned getting on nicely with the guards and the servants. You mentioned having made friends with the gardeners and feeling lucky to have be granted time to paint. You admitted to feeling a little too spoiled by Geta. 

"He wants you to be happy. We all do." Julia smiled, lifting a chalice to her lips as you smiled back her way. But she wasn't finished speaking, it seemed. "I'm glad you're fitting in as I suspected you would. But it's time for you to adjust to royal life beyond its pleasures. I'd like you to join me for a charity event this evening."

"I'll be glad to join you! I've only been wary of taking such steps since Geta insisted otherwise. He keeps saying I'll be better off with no responsibilities despite my offers to be of more service." 

Julia listened while you explained, rolling an eye at the mention of her son's guidance. With a swat of her hand, she leaned in closer to speak again. "We'll deal with him along the way, you and me. Come represent with me tonight, it'll be the perfect first job for you."

You trusted the royal's input and longed to make yourself more useful. It was easy to look forward to having a purpose for the evening, and it was a thrill to realize you'd be going out for the first time as a royal yourself. This was it. You were playing the game. You were apart of the bigger picture. 

///

The charity event was less excitable than you'd hoped, in some regards. There wasn't much to do or say there. Just hands to shake and bows to accept. But that was the rush of the evening. Just weeks ago people passed you on the street with no second glance. And you'd passed them by all the same. Funny how quickly life changed. The same class of people you were peers with weeks ago were humbling themselves before you now, beaming smiles your way, expressing pride to know someone from your side of things could dream of achieving such royal goals.

You rode home with Julia in a fog of glee, as she praised you for connecting to the public so effortlessly. For bringing a sense of humanity to the royals, for respecting her son, for the massive change you not only agreed to but seemed to enjoy. You let her fawn over you, relishing the compliments, yearning to feel as radiant as she believed you to be.

When you reached the purple carpeted entrance, and made your way up the stairs, you found Geta waiting up for you near his bed. Clothed only by his robe, he turned to find you dressed in finery, dressed like a royal. The man smiled, eyes raking up and down your figure. 

"You're a vision. You're home." Geta stated, reaching to hold your head in his hands. "It's so funny." He spoke low and gently, searching your eyes as he seemed to realize something while addressing you. "I can't imagine my plans before you were in them."

"How much have you had to drink?" You wondered with a small laugh, nervous by the softness in his lament. Geta was hardly cruel to you. But he was rarely as tender as he'd just become.

"I've just been going stir crazy waiting up for you. I hadn't even realized you'd left for the night until you didn't join me here at the usual hour. Did I hear something about charity with my mother?" Geta wondered, moving about the room now. Stretching his arms on his shuffle toward the edge of the massive carved bed.

"It was rather boring. Thought there be more action." You admitted. "I know you've wished me away from drafting battle plans and enforcing laws. But I do long to be a more active member of this family, Geta. Besides, your mother enforced our union for a reason, didn't she?"

Geta listened as you spoke, keeping a sly eye on your amble toward where he stalled against the bed. He reached a ringed hand out to rest at the curve of your hip, fingers pressing to pull you ever closer before him.

"She was right too, she saw you were made up of good will and the strength to stand by that. I'm glad she forced the idea. I'm more glad you chose this life all the while. It's admirable you wish to have more responsibilities. But that's a question to answer another day. All you need to worry about answering now, is this... tell me how can I make your evening free of all worries and wonders? How can I serve you, your highness?"

"I'd ask you to wake me from this dream, but I rather like the course it's taken." You grinned, reaching your arms around the royal's neck, struggling to hold back a burst of shocked laughter as Geta pulled you in and lifted you up all the while. In a flash he'd thrown you to his bed, moving like a jungle cat in your direction.

///

The next day you were scheduled to meet with a few senators and councilors alike. Your royal role was to be discussed, possible plans drafted. It had been a meeting you'd been looking forward to since your wedding day. 

Not even Caracalla's glare could cloud your excitement, as he passed you in the halls. his dull beady eyes rolled in your direction as he floated by in a stomp. The guard at his side, and the guard at yours, shared looks you couldn't read. And while you felt a certain fear in the wake of the more cruel emperor, a pity followed. How sad a life he lived, so shrouded in hate and rage. 

As you entered the meeting room, welcomed by a set of men smiling at your appearance, the reality of your situation seemed to settle deeper into the pit of your stomach. You recalled Caracalla's very recent glare your way. Geta's imploring you to take as little responsibility on as possible. Julia's plea for you to take on as much as you could bare. The decision was yours to make now, and you realized if you didn't achieve the perfect balance of wishes and demands, this entire empire may implode at your slightest misstep. 

Over the course of a couple of hours, you and the group of leaders discussed stances for you to take heart to. Causes to stand for and against. Talk of addressing the people of the empire and hosting parties and appearing at events took up a large portion of your time. Until finally you worked up a project to occupy your time and a planned meeting for a few days from now.

You were left feeling satisfied by the efforts the team had put into giving you purpose in your roll within this empire. But you wondered still what more you should be achieving?  

The senators left out of the back of the meeting room, while your guard lingered near the half opened main entrance. As you collected a couple of scrolls and began to head out, a muffled voice could be heard around the corner of the crack in the door. with a few steps closer and one shrug to hide better out of sight, you recognized one voice as your husbands. And the other as his brothers. You crept ever closer toward the crack in the ajar entrance to spy as the siblings squared off in the hall, four soldiers squared off between them and their sharp words.

"It's like you to hide behind the voice of a woman," Caracalla scowled, "you've always used our mother's useless input when your feckless lack of leadership reared its head. But to adopt a whorrish commoner as your wife, to give her a semblance of purpose is a laughable new low for you, Geta."

"Speak of the empress as you did just now once more and I will slaughter your guards first before you, so you can see how powerless you truly are." Geta seethed, stepping to sneer at his brother with his hand on his sword. 

You pulled back from the door, mind buzzing. Geta really did care for you, it seemed, even if you were here to benefit the emperor in some twisted way, he'd spoken quite protectively of you in your absence from his side. And that bloomed a certainty in your chest that you needed to be more sure of your place here. You should stop worrying about what action to take, and simply take it.

You spent the evening piddling around with the ideas the senators had given you. And feeling gratitude that the man you'd wed defended your honor. You really could be glad to benefit the emperor as his wife, as his supporter. But you were newly determined to act as the angel on his right shoulder; ready to battle the devil Caracalla on his left.

When Geta joined you for bed that night, you admitted to hearing the spat the siblings shared. You went on to press more, to demand your willingness to be more of an asset to the empire, to Geta. 

"Don't make me tell you no." Geta broke your on going plea with a frustrated groan. You hadn't seen that coming.

"What... what do you mean?"

"I want you here, yes. But I do not want to need you. Don't you see that? Don't you see this entire push and pull is between my brother and me? I will not have you mixed up in the middle. I know my mother thinks you and I working together against Caracalla is what needs to happen but even if it is, now isn't the time. She cannot see that because all of this is only between my brother and me." Geta was speaking as certainly as ever. His words so sharp, his voice so commanding. Yet his eyes stayed soft on yours, his hands never clenching, but reaching out to hold either side of your face.

"I want you here." He repeated again, enunciating every syllable. "But I cannot need to depend on you. Or uncertainty will seep from my leadership alone, and into the villages and this fight between Caracalla and myself will be lost. Thats all this is. Between him, and me. So please don't ask again. Not for a while. I will tell you, empress, when your time will come. Because it will. But not yet."

"I see." You mustered, not quite hurt, not quite sure of yourself, not quite without understanding. Simply shocked but his sudden outburst. Shocked by the rawness of it. Shocked by how he'd waited till now to make such a stance known, he usually spoke exactly how he felt in an instant. Why didn't he make that clear to you from the start, you wondered?

That night you sunk into bed without feeling Geta's skin against yours, without his touch. He kept on one side of the massive bed for the first time since you'd ever shared it with him. And you didn't know what to make of that.

///

A couple nights ended just as that one had, silence filling the space that was usually occupied by heavy sighs and the thud of your bodies against one another's. You did as he asked, you asked little to nothing of the man. So why was he still keeping such a distance from you? 

Sleep evaded you as answers did too. You took to wandering the halls to tire the spinning questions ever on your mind, a poor guard forced to linger close behind your restless quests.

Often nothing happened. Dark cornered dead ends spun your heels, and you ended up back in bed, you'd sleep, or you wouldn't. And then you'd end up wandering the next night, your habit threatening to wear a sorry familiar path along the rugs. 

But one night a light shone from a room you often found dark. You were curious enough to move ever closer toward it, but weary enough to go slow.

In the parlor you found Julia and her son. Caracalla was sipping from a cup of tea as a bevy of guards lined the outskirts of the room. His face grew long with a grimace at the sight of you. But Julia was alight, waving you to come and join them.

"What's this? Come to suck up royal blood like the common tick you are? Why would you allow this nobody such free reign of our home, mother?" The half reigning emperor really had a knack for dramatics. He'd never had a good word for you, but ever the creative and new verbal lashing. 

"Come now, Caracalla. She wed your brother. She was anointed. She's one of us now, official as they come." Julia stood to greet you, giving you a strong look that made you want to hold your breath. She was always planning something, it seemed. You could tell her mind spun now.  "Besides... She's already with child. Already carrying the future heir. Isn't that right? There is much to plan ahead for." 

Appalmenthaltedyour senses and all logic. You sure hadn't yet been given a reason to think you were with child, and knew she couldn't have a reason either. You couldn't decide if you wished she was right or wrong right now. Julia was looking at you as if to suggest you find a way to make it true in an instant. If you were, would that mean Caracalla would step away? Or would that ensure a plot for him to end your days? He wanted such full control. You'd been told by Geta not to dare threaten the stakes of the game between his brother and himself until further notice. But Julia, as before, had done so anyway.

"You really shouldn't have told me that, mother." Caracalla grinned wickedly, rising up from his chair. A shiver crept up your spine when you turned to find the way he was looking at you. 

"Now, son, you have an entire half of this empire to guide. Shouldn't you be off ruling like you say you wish too so badly?" Julia snapped. She was a bold and brave one to do so, in the frighteningly little leaders wake. Caracalla kept his bone chilling glare fixed on you as he saw himself out of the room, guards following. Yours had waited out in the hall. So, when the room went quiet and Julia was left lingering at your side, you couldn't help but let panic show.

"Why did you do that? What if I'm not-"

"These boys are entirely too focused on the dynamics of their fight, and not nearly worried enough about the outcome of the empire they're running." Julia explained in a sharp hush. Her usual kind eyes were wide under furrowed brows and pointing sharply at yours. 

"You and I have to take the reins of the little control we're allotted, weather we wish it or not. How much clearer do I need to make it to the lot of you that the time for games is up? Rome is��tired of playing. And I will not stand by for the people to overthrow the hard work of many leaders past- because my imbecilic sons hate each other enough to divide the empire. You better get to work on the heir to this throne, because even what you and I can do together won't likely be enough."

Julia's cutting and hissed speech left you in a stupor. She huffed out of the room, your guard sauntering in confounded as you stood there processing everything that had only just happened. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep tonight.

///

The day of duties had nearly come to a close. You'd had another meeting with the senators. They let you talk until you were blue in the face about changes to policies and addresses to the public. But they only sent you off with another party to plan. You'd shared a quiet meal with Geta, glad when his eyes met yours over the course of the meal. Frustrated when little to no conversation sparked as you ate. Geta only mentioned something about following you up to the room as you finished, heading up the staircase.

In the hall before the second turn you were meant to take, a sharp whistle cut through the darkened home. There was a light on in the parlor, and an eerie silence stayed after the call. You looked to the guard at your side, and he looked to you, tilting his head to imply he'd go first to investigate. But you waved at the guy, hurrying to creep at the pace he set, something in your gut insisting you peer into the illuminated room.

Caracalla stood near the back of the parlor, a room covered in that ugly wallpaper you hated so much. In his grasp, he held Julias arms to her chest, and a knife to her throat. There were no soldiers in sight beyond yours. A horrible mistake. A terrible instance.

"Hey you, blood sucker, don't move." Caracalla taunted you, tightening his grip around his mother who shook with fright in his clutch. "Come in. If you turn around, she dies. If that guard follows you, she dies."

With a careful glance toward the man who usually followed you around, you stepped forward, holding a palm out to insist he stay back as demanded. In a slow creep you entered the room, watching the wild eyed emperor consider your every move. 

"What are you doing Caracalla?" You begged to know, voice steady and low. 

"Now you and I both know you're far too worthless to ever threaten my position, right commoner? You and I both know you're only playing a small role here but, I'm not so naive to the plans for bigger things you all have at my expense." Caracalla spat an explanation your way, wearing the most twisted version of a smile you'd ever seen.  "So, I was hoping we could all come to some sort of agreement tonight. Ah, brother just in time- no, no wait." 

Caracalla's speech ended when Geta must've loomed in the doorway behind you. You didn't dare turn to see. Geta must've waved a guard to follow or moved to draw his sword. Because Caracalla was screaming next "Do not come into this room except alone and with your palms facing me! I will kill her if you decide on any other move!" He yelled so loud spit flew from his lips, face scarlet with rage. Julia trembled in his grasp, biting back sobs you could tell. 

Geta eased beside you, his entrance into the room as calculated as yours had been. His hands up as his sibling demanded. 

"Brother, I'll give you some choices. I know you're a big fan of options, having rarely taken kindly to my demands." Caracalla went on, sickening grin ever growing. He tightened his hold on his mother, a knife so precariously nudging against her throat. Before going on, he glanced up to the guards outside the door, demanding they shut it. He had to shout once more and nod to the woman in his grasp before his wishes were granted. When you heard the thing shut with a hollow thud, your blood ran cold. 

"Now, your choices Geta. You see one of us in this room has to die. One of you." Caracalla was practically beaming, like a child thinking up a rule to a game to play. Julia screwed her eyes shut and muffled a cry. "It could be our dear mother. She's been too crafty, meddling around, making decisions no one but the likes of we emperors ought to be making."

Geta let his hands fall slowly, keeping a laser focus on his brother. 

"Or, It could be your lovely new wife and alleged unborn heir." You felt your fists tighten at your sides, your body frozen in place with a new wave of fear. You felt Geta look to you with a shock you prayed Caracalla couldn't read. You didn't know if you were with child. And you hadn't yet brought up Julia's pressing such matters to the front of your mind. Geta had other matters to deal with the past evening. And he'd been clear about you keeping your own plans to yourself. That must've meant his mothers, too, you were certain. "I'm sure your wife's a fine and easy shag. But her presence here is a threat, no matter how inane I can see she is. And if one commoner should shake up this empire, I'd hate to have to deal with your half bread ilk." 

And before Geta could rocket into rage, Caracalla reminded him that any wrong move and Julia's life would be the one taken, and then the rest of yours would follow suit. 

"Let me finish... you could obviously choose yourself, brother. With you out of my way, I won't have to worry about the fate of the women in the room. I can do with or without them whatever I please. Should you be so chivalrous as to take the fall?"

"You're worse than mad." Geta shook his head, keeping a study on his sibling. Your heart hammered as you waited for the plot of this meeting to unfurl.

"Trouble deciding, I see. Let me help." Caracalla kept his wicked grin as he decidedly and swiftly moved the knife away from Julia's throat before flinging the woman flying to the ground, against the wall at Getas feet, with a crushing thud. What a ruthless fucker. You barely had time to register that the boy had disregarded his mother in a heap, before he was lunging for you. 

Caracalla had you in a stinging grasp in the blink of an eye. His plated chest pressed against your back. His left hand held your wrists in one vice like hold, at your stomach. His right held his knife to the bend of your neck. 

"How's this view, Geta? Inspiring any choice? Time is ticking. I'd hate to make up my mind before you do."

Your brain was working overtime, spinning up a dozen ways out of this. You'd been squirming against his hold since Caracalla reached for you; and it had worked to loosen one of your wrists from his grasp juuust enough to think of breaking free. But you knew you only had one chance. And as he asked Geta to make a choice, and before anyone spoke again, you moved at the speed of light. In one swift action, you yanked your hand free and swung your elbow back hard as you could muster to crack against your captor's nose. 

Caracalla was caught off guard enough to reactively let go, and you were quick enough to spin and sweep his feet out from under him with a carefully kicked foot. This made Caracalla fall to the ground, his knife clattering at his side, his nose pouring blood, his elbows cracking against the marble floor because his hands were too busy reaching for his face to save his quick fall. Geta was fast as you, giving you a flash of a look before his hand extended to shove you away. As he reached for his brother's knife, Geta's foot stomped on Caracalla's chest to keep it down, with a crushing thud.

You clattered over to Julia's side, who was still slumped in tears on the floor. You knelt to her, reaching out an arm as you examined her finding no blood or bruising. Only tears stained her complexion as she watched her sons descend into the eye of the storm of their decades long war.

Geta had Caracalla by the throat, his fingers digging into his brother's neck as he knelt over him. "Didn't I warn you to watch your back, time and again?" Geta spat. "And didn't I tell you to never speak so lowly of my empress just the other day? I made my choice long ago, dear brother, it's always been you." With a cry that had built up over the years, with Caracalla's knife, Geta plunged the instrument into his brother's neck, twice over. Julia buried her head in your shoulder as it happened. You listened to Geta's yell, to the sound of tearing flesh, the sputter of blood. You watched as Caracalla fought his way to bleakness, legs twitching, mouth moving to speak and only spewing red. You watched Geta throw the knife to the ground and rise to stand, his hands finding the back of his head as he heaved to breathe and paced about the room. You saw, between your husband's spiral, that damn ugly wallpaper.

It wasn't long though before Geta knelt before where you did, gasping an apology. He looked to you for a moment, but he was speaking to Julia, you understood. She pulled away from you to look at him as he whispered another sorry, as she cried. He began to reach for her, but the mother shuddered away at the sight of his blood-stained hands. And then with a shake of his blonde head Geta's eyes were on yours again.

"Are you?" He wondered, still breathless, still in a daze. But despite the way the room had begun to spin for all of you, you understood what Geta was asking. 

"I-I don't know." You shook your head, quick to make it clear that it was up in the air. You could've easily been pregnant. But you hadn't had a reason to think you were. Unless Julia cast a spell on you that evening, you couldn't be certain.

Geta's expression shifted a few unreadable times, as you decidedly turned your focus back to consoling Julia. Geta apologized again, and looked about the room. He ultimately stood and opened the doors to the guards and demanded they take care of the body and the blood and wake the coroner. When they took his body Julia went with it. When Geta looked to you there were a million what if's turning into what now's between the two of you. The fight for power had ended, but was there a plan for such a time as this? Was it ever meant to end?

///

Caracalla was laid to rest by Julia's demands. She decidedly packed her things soon after, to spend a month mourning nearer the sea- and to wait out the public's inevitable celebration of her son's death. She'd always known the he was a tyrant and a bully and whatever could be worse than that. But he was also her son. So she went off. 

And all of a sudden Geta was in charge of everything. He freed Caracalla's less threatening prisoners, he addressed the people of Rome and wished to unite them. Geta was taken aback by the mix of praise and disapproval he was met with. Folks celebrated his keen and swift leadership. Folks celebrated his slaughtering his own sibling for the betterment of the empire. Folks denounced his eager leadership. Folks denounced the murder of his sibling, calling Geta as ruthless and power hungry as his brother. Suddenly there was no brother to carry the blame, no brother to take up the honor. There was only Geta.

For the next weeks, Geta was always awake. On the strolls you took past midnight; you found him drafting plans and laws and making sense of things once out of his control and understanding. 

For the next weeks, you hardly heard from the man you wed, decidedly trapping yourself in the room full of canvas and paint and quiet. You weren't even inspired to create, but your fingers moved still to make sense of this new reality in some way. You filled up many frames with rocky blue waves and darkened mountain ranges. 

For the next weeks, you'd rarely felt the emperor's touch. He'd crash into bed as you were scrambling to leave it. He'd appear in rooms you grew sick of staying in, missing your presence, you, passing by his.

Until one day, you were moved to linger about the meeting room as your husband and the senators were setting up a meeting. You sauntered about, restless as the men settled into a discussion about budgets and plagues and armies. A few of the men of the assembly began to bicker about opposing views, as Geta sat letting them. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as the pair argued on. You wondered when the last time he'd had a full night's rest was. 

As senators were arguing about Caracalla's former wishes for the empire, Geta began to insist they cease their chatter. One of them seemed to stall their argument, but another surprisingly turned to you.

"What do you make of this quandary, empress? You've always been wise to-"

From his slouched position, Geta interrupted. "My brother is dead. My wife isn't privy to all of the information needed to decide. I will decide the outcome of this debate. You must stop arguing just to oppose." His announcement was abrupt, his patience wearing thin, you could see. But maybe you could help ease the tension he held throughout himself. You'd been able to before. Maybe you could be made to understand more.

"Are you sure I can't-" You eased into wonder, locking your gaze with Geta's weary brown eye's. He listened for a moment. But then his patience had run out, eyes screwing shut, hands facing out keeping you back, keeping you away.

"No, please" He implored to you, eyes full of pleading. As his gaze grew more heavy, and began to turn toward someone else, you recognized an anger in his expression. Then you saw his focus on the guards near the door. "Take her to the hall!" 

Taken aback as you were by Geta's outburst, you knew better than to fight him, than to argue back. Not in the heat of the moment. You'd decided you'd get him to listen to you one way or another, eventually. But you knew the man well enough now to know this wasn't the time or the place. With a nod you hurried ahead of any guard and sliped out of the room, down the hall, to the gardens. 

You spent the afternoon there contemplating only simple things with the gardeners. Like what the bees thought when winter came or what flower the workers liked best. You found the dining hall alone and thanked the cooks for the meal. You savored your dinner wine and stalled your time up to the bedroom. You figured sleep would evade you yet again. You dreaded the practice of trying to rest when you just knew you wouldn't be able to.

But when you did go up, Geta was there, already sleeping. You were glad to see it, having missed the sight in a few days time. As you eased into bed at his side, you moved slow and held your breath. You'd hate to wake him. But then,

"What would you have said?" Geta's whispered wonder nearly caused you to jump, having assumed he wasn't awake. 

"What?" You gasped, nearly laughing as you settled into bed with less precision now. He didn't move at your side but he did speak up again. He asked how you would have handled the issue with the senate if he would have let you. You only thought for a moment before answering. And once you had, quiet took over the room again. You'd hoped it would be broken by Geta once more. But you watched his breathing slow and realized he'd eased into sleep at last and dared not move to change that. But you wanted to keep talking. You'd always had such meaningful banter. You wanted to ask if he was okay, because you knew he wasn't, you wanted to be so much more to Geta than he was letting you be. 

But instead, you let him sleep.

///

There was a party the next day, a game in the arena. You were pleased to walk by Geta's side, delighted to find a grin turning up the corners of his lips one of the first times you locked eyes with him that morning. But soon after a brooding took over his countenance that showed no signs of letting up.

As the pair of you left for the arena, you took on the task of sharing kind hellos and nods to the people who lined your path. You shook hands with the folks who hosted the games, and listened to their stories and shared some of your own. You shielded your eyes from the hot sun and felt glad to be out in the day, instead of roaming the halls of that dreary home. You watched the fighters in the circle duel, and turned with a frown to find Geta's unfocused gaze fixated elsewhere. Undecided on how to snap him out of such a haze in the midst of such a public event, you went on taking on the task of shaking hands and sharing smiles.

You were left alone to host the dinner that followed. Somewhere between the first pour of wine and the blessing over dinner, you realized Geta had left the room. But it was full of senators and socialites and friends you'd now come to know. And you were at the head of the table. So you lifted your glass in a toast to the rest of the year under the ever-shifting rule of the empire. And you ate. And you laughed and when the night ended you shook hands and shared smiles.

As you began to see everyone out, a pair of men lingered nearer the dining hall than the exit door. An elder with a wiry beard stalled with a furrowed brow, but a gentle grin. 

"As you know, Julia wrote to us, inviting us to tonight's events. But I see she isn't with us?" The man began to address you. He'd introduced himself over dinner, along with a handful of other faces you'd only just met that night. 

"The royal mother is still seaside. I'm sure she'll be sad to have missed your appearance here." 

"Well, your highness, that's the thing. Julia wrote to us... about you. You see, I'm a doctor. She insisted we make your acquaintance and check-" 

"Oh." You offered this poor old fellow a clenched smile as you realized where this was going, sparing the guy the further awkward explanation. Of course the woman sent them here without telling you first. She'd decided to curse pregnancy upon you without asking first. And now, because you were superstitious of the way this whole possibility had been continuously pushed, you told the doctor to stay. 

It wouldn't hurt to check, right?

///

Your stomp up the stairs was determined. You'd just been reminded that your fate, in your hands or not, was not just your own. Born to die, maybe. Living to lead some kind of life with Geta? Sure. But the second half of that 'some kind' was yours. And you were tired of waiting for your turn. You marched up the stairs, with an entire new plan in mind.

Maybe it had been enough, to be married, to host parties. Maybe that was okay. Maybe Geta was ever changed after the murder of his brother. And maybe you couldn't help the man out of his stupor from that. But you weren't going to sit around and wait for Geta to catch up with the changing paces of the empire. You were going to remind him that you were dictated to stay here because there was more to you than a kind smile and a commanding presence.  As you considered the entire life you'd led that ended up in your arrival here, and the life you'd spun into so far this season, you headed to your room. 

But in there, Geta wasn't sleeping. He was sat in that tiny chair at that tiny table in the middle of the room, with his elbows on his knees and his head hung low. In his loose clutch was a nearly empty bottle of wine. 

You eased into the room, shutting the door with care. The flicker of the lanterns in the corner guided your step into the middle of the room, where you stalled before Geta's miserable slouch. Before you could think of how to address the man, he was lifting his head to peer up to you. Geta seemed as if he could cry, the weight of his new reality evident all over his face.

"I was wrong." He whispered. You cast the man a puzzled glare as you settled into your posture before him. Decidedly, you spoke in return.

"I hope you're not regretting what happened to your brother. Unfortunate as it may be to lose family, he had it coming, don't forget-"

"No, I was wrong when I said I didn't want to need you." Geta implored, gazing up at you with big glossy, anger filled eyes that softened as your brow furrowed.

"I do need you. I want you here with me. And I need you here for me. I was wrong." Geta's admission seemed to hiss its way out of the very pits of himself. And as he finished speaking, the emperor slid from the chair to fall to your feet, head pressing against your knees, wine bottle clattering to the floor.

As this powerful man reduced himself to a puddle before you, you felt the rise of a certain power within yourself. You'd come up here with every intention of swinging for the fences. But Geta had submitted himself at your feet by his own will. 

"You need me after all, your highness?" You breathed, carding your fingers through the emperor's golden locks as he stayed in his slump before you. Geta muffled a yes, it sounded as if he were truly near tears now. It could've broken your heart, the cracks in his voice, if you weren't surging with adrenaline now.

"Good. I'm glad you've come to your senses. Now let me tell you what I need." You started, curling your fingers to latch withing Geta's hair, pulling his head back for his eye's to find yours. "I'm done parading around as a glorified party planner. I'm acting as more than a wanton body for your bed, now. You promised me value and respect. And I hope I shouldn't have to remind you of that promise ever again. I hope my demands to be heard shall no longer be put on pause. I refuse to raise your child from the side lines, Geta." You announced, voice soft but commanding as you could make it. 

His already drunken and dewy-eyed expression morphed into something wider and more stupefied. The emperor let his head turn to one side for a beat, and then the other, as if to shake his head. As if to ask if you meant it. 

You let your head move up then down, to assure it was true. Maybe Julia did curse you that night. But a child was never out of the question by how many nights you spent with your legs wrapped behind Geta's back. Things sure happened fast in this world, deaths and births and promises and problems were ever spun to life like passing storms in the royal court. But time always slowed in this room, for better or worse. Luckily tonight, Geta began to smile.

"I shall see to it all, I already promised. I promised you." Geta clawed his way up your figure. His body molding against yours with desperation and desire ever present. His lips pressed against yours, his fingers sunk into the skin of your cheeks. His skin was warm to the touch, as you peeled away the layers that had been covering it. You demanded that the man tell you what he needed then and there, desperate to hear such sultry pleas fall from his lips.

You saw to his wish to plow you against the mattress that's middle had been missing your union. You answered his call for your fingers to yank at his hair. He begged you for more. He swore there was nothing he wouldn't do at your demand. If you'd been dreaming, you never wanted to wake up. Especially if the next day meant you'd be finally allowed to make decisions that affected an entire empire. And now too, the heir to it's throne.

[leonw4nter]

been obsessed with ur fics relating to Taylor’s songs 🥺 can u do one with ‘sl/t’? Just a good ole fluffy fic.

My Cuddly Eldritch Boyfriend!

Eldritch Horror!RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

“Ah yes, my human female companion, I believe I am required to inform you of my whereabouts for today. Since we have run out of the minuscule jar of the chocolate-hazelnut spread you quite enjoy consuming with sliced bread, I had to leave our shared den and purchase some for you. It appears that I have underestimated the price of such delicacy for the bills I have pocketed fell short of a few more dollars,” your boyfriend Leon happily recounted as he showed you the large tub of sandwich spread that he bought earlier today. “Boyfriend”, rather, if he can be considered that.

Leon waltzed into your life quite interestingly, a little more differently than most boyfriends do in the lives of others who have them. You were trapped in an unhappy relationship, the kind where you had to beg to be shown affection and got scolded for buying yourself little goodies like a funny little pond jewelry dish. He was always on his gaming computer or out with his buddies for beer and snacks, yelling at you over the phone whenever you refused to lend him more money. You went home one evening, after a draining workday, to see your “boyfriend” quietly cleaning around the house and stopping to greet you good evening and ask you about your day. It’s quite the contrast to go from an “annoying clingy hoe” to “human female companion” but the latter is leagues better than the other words hurled at you. Leon isn’t even the name of your former boyfriend, wherever he is now; this replacement simply decided to name himself. You know you should be looking for your former partner, wherever he is, but you don’t want to. You’re more than happy with Leon and you wouldn’t want another undeserving girl to fall into the suffocating clutches of your ex.

“A lady has also offered me a small slice of processed meat– a sausage, it is called. Seasoned pork meat rolled into logs, a cut skewered into an infinitesimally slim stake referred to as ‘toothpick’. It is quite delectable, I must admit, but I haven’t any payment in my pockets so I had to politely decline her offer,” he continues recalling. You take out your phone and google a word: “infinitesimally”. This is another of the changes you noticed with your boyfriend: his lexicomane speech; you would never hear words the likes of ‘infinitesimally’ and ‘minuscule’ from him, intelligent phraseology is not in his vocabulary. A few days after the swap of boyfriends, you found yourself having to install a dictionary app on your phone in order to keep up with his sesquipedalian use of words and engage in conversation. You smile, finally spotting the definition of the word: extremely small.

“That’s great, Leon. We still have some sausage in the freezer, though, so I think it’s only right that you didn’t get some coz we might’ve ended up with far too much,” you respond as you set your phone down on the counter. “What brand was it though? I might pick that up for you next time around when I go for groceries.”

“Hm,” he hums in thought.

His human appearance appears to slightly glitch as he delves deeper into his recollections of the day earlier; he appears to have a chromatic aberration, multiple shadows of his head moving about and twitching around in smoky wisps, as several muffled voices of ancient chanting begin to grow a little bit more noticeable in volume. You grow worried yet you stay seated on your chair, carefully observing Leon before anything too out of control and mind-shattering occurs. Thankfully, he finally manages to remember before the voices get too overwhelming for your human mind.

“I believe it was called ‘MorningStar’,” he finally says. He falls silent, head tilting as his face grows expressionless. “Are you alright, girlfriend?”

He steps closer and sits in front of you, back straight and hands in his lap as he continues to observe you thoughtfully, the gears in his head turning to determine how to approach you.

“Oh, yes, Leon. Don’t worry, just zoned out a little. That’s all,” you respond with a forced smile that doesn’t convince him entirely.

“Have you finally observed that I have left the bathroom light bulb switched on during the entirety that I was out purchasing goods to consume?” he quietly asks, voice laced with guilt and shame as he looks at you with something akin to puppy-dog eyes; you didn’t know that eldritch horrors are capable of giving puppy-dog eyes. “I apologize with utmost remorse, my human female mate. In my haste to please you, I have overlooked a step in securing your household utilities.”

You wonder what is the connection between his previous concern for you and the most recent sentence he just uttered then it occurred to you that he wanted to delay admitting to  you that he forgot to switch off the lights; Leon must’ve also forgotten that humans don’t have the level of perception as whatever his kind has, or maybe he assumed that you and you alone possessed that ability. You never would have known if he didn’t bring it up to you. It is funny to see this eldritch being that was clearly trying to pass off as human, as if you had the power of the universe in your palm and could so easily kick him out into the streets, a look on his face now reminiscent of a kicked puppy. It appeared as if he shrank into his olive green sweater, hiding into the warm and dark depths that the piece of clothing offered. Now his ashamed aura was seeping into you, making you feel a slight tinge of what he’s feeling.

“Leon, it’s fine, okay? We’re still in one piece and nothing too bad happened. Besides, I have enough money to comfortably pay off utility expenses so there’s nothing much to worry about,” you reassure him with a gentle hand to his firm shoulder, feeling the spot unwind from the tension beneath your warm palm. “That happens to me too and I get frustrated sometimes but now I just laugh at it.”

He lights up again and that aura of despair fizzles away lickety-split. He beams again, a little too widely for what could be considered normal. He continues rambling on about sausages before asking you about your workday and leaning in to listen intently; you talk and talk, he sits and devotes all his attention to you and answers too, from time to time. He’s a lot more engaging and present when it comes to talking about yourself than your former boyfriend; all he’d talk about is himself and how you’re lucky he loves you, the occasional comparison to other girls. When you’re finally finished talking about your day, it’s Leon's turn to talk about his.

You don’t want to tell him that he’s not perfect on trying to pass off as another ordinary human being– he still tends to unhinge his jaw when he gets excited, his form glitches when he’s deep in thought, he refers to you as ‘human female mate’ or ‘human female companion’ or simply ‘girlfriend’ though in a manner free of offensive intentions, he likes to change the shades of his blue irises, and his verbose vocabulary. Other than the multiloquent manner that he converses in, no one seems to pick up on the irregularity of his physical form, not even when there’s faint shadows of his head fluctuating when he thinks; surely he’s travelling to universes beyond human comprehension just to figure out an answer to “what’d you think of the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie?”. You guess that he’s conjuring some form of illusion that mask slip-ups in his form but why this doesn’t apply to you, you’re not exactly sure but you don’t plan on telling him his lapses; you’re perfectly content with him cooling up your drink with his hand alone in a matter of seconds when you’re out together. He’s far from perfecting the image of a totally human boyfriend but you’re slightly positive that he’s the most perfect lover.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I would like to relish in the amusement of motion pictures with sound alongside you on our couch,” Leon expresses in mild emotion though he seems quite eager to watch movies, just phrased in a more archaic fashion.

“Me too” you respond with a small giggle at his unintentionally goofy personality. “Got a movie in mind?”

“Movie? Ah, yes. The moving images,” he recalls. “I have overheard this title from a young couple I happened to share a bus with, Kate and Leopold, they said. Appertaining to this hearsay statement, it must be a picture that thoroughly imprints itself on the heart and mind.”

“Kate and Leopold?” you say out loud and he nods. “Sure, why not. C’mon let’s head to the living room.”

“Of course,” he responds with an enthusiastic smile as he gets up from his dining room chair and quietly pushes it back before trailing behind you like the lovecraftian horror puppy that he is.

You put on the movie, both settling into a comfortable silence, attention centered on the film on your TV. In the middle of the film, you realize how you are quite near to him yet he does not make advances to touch you as he appears content with your shoulders touching. You sit up, inching closer to his side yet you don’t make this all simultaneous as you don’t want to shock him into discomfort. Much to your pleasant amazement, he not-so-subtly extends his arm behind your neck and rests it there. You look at his head and his face is still trained on Leopold chasing the snatcher, though the tips of his ears are dusted with a faint bloom of pink; who knew that cosmic beings could blush. Now slightly more confident, he slowly tries to urge you closer to the warmth of his side though he’s now hesitant with his actions. You snuggle closer to his side and now his hand is comfortably resting on the side of your arm where his silvery touch sends a flurry of tingles. Leopold and Kate are now sharing a kiss on a rooftop after a waltz to which your heart nearly goes into overdrive; Leon is not faring any better, visibly red-faced and overcome with butterflies that press up against his lungs (if he has any), making breathing feel a little funny. You wonder if he’s mentally replacing the characters with you and him and the image makes him feel madly excited.

“Leon, are you cold?” you ask towards the movie’s nearing end.

“No, but are you?” he counters, turning to face you now.

“Kinda.”

“Would you like me to fetch some for you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can get it myself–”

Something heavy and weighted and fuzzy envelopes you from the chest down, placed down by the man beside you.

“What’s this?” you ask in a slightly raised voice.

“A blanket,” he responds in a nonchalant manner.

“Why is it so heavy? I know weighted blankets exist but this one’s a little heavier than what I’m used to…”

“It’s bear fur.”

You fall silent, staring down at the brown fur mass laid above your body before staring back up at him, silently asking if this is his form of a prank. Unfortunately, he is serious about this.

“Um… Leon, I appreciate the blanket but I generally prefer faux fur to actual animal-sourced fur. It’s, you know, more wildlife friendly… yeah, um…”

You need not to say more when the blanket is still brown but is now clearly made of faux fur, having changed it right away without arguments or insults hurled at you. He seems satisfied with his service, adjusting the blanket to cover you up properly without obstructing your view of the movie. You offer to share the blanket but he objects, tomato-faced as he stutters his apology.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The movie is finished and he smiles, remarking on how the couple was correct about their opinions and recounting some of the lines that stuck to him. He seemed to especially adore the portion where Kate is enchanted by the sight of Leopold on horseback, most excitedly analyzing the scene and going into detail about the look of love and the twinkle of Kate’s eyes before sighing dreamily.

“I wish to one day flawlessly emulate the depth of emotion she captured with only both her eyes, though I am well-aware that this is all expert acting. It would be my pleasure to one day look at you with such adoration as you tell me tales for there is nothing more that I desire than to enlighten you about the boundless worship that I present to you,” he wistfully conveys as he watches you walk around the bedroom before settling down to lay beside him.

You softly giggle, biting your lip as his voice bounces off in the walls of your mind and plays over and over again.

“Thank you. You’re doing a great job at that already honey,” you sincerely respond to him as you slip under the sheets and get snug.

“Your welcome,” he softly murmurs as a dopey smile points the corners of his lips skyward.

You ask if you can switch the bedside lamp off and he nods, the darkness of the room taking over as your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You lay still and silent before quietly wishing him a good night and restful sleep, to which he returns before he shifts and faces his back to you. Sometime in the middle of the night Leon awakens to the warmth and weight of your head and arms on his chest, the sight of you causing a human warmth to bloom where a human heart would be. You are peaceful and delicate, basking in the warmth that his form offered; the fact that you sought him out in your sleep made him feel loved, a feeling he didn’t know he’d grow to constantly crave. He pulls you closer and delicately wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, a soft purr humming from his chest– an actual purr, like a cat’s. He strokes your hair with a silvery touch, daintily patting strands as he thinks about the fragility of his human and how he’d need to be very careful with them. His silky hands cause you to drift between the world of sleep and waking consciousness, growing more aware of his purr. You’re not new to his purring; he purrs when you two hold hands while running errands together, he purrs when you refer to him as your boyfriend to other people, he purrs when he finds out that you bought him a snack he likes. He has yet to discover that humans do not and cannot purr, that’s why you aren’t returning his physical display of contentedness but he’s satisfied that you’re letting him hold you like this. You don’t mind his purring at all and you’re firm on the decision that you love him and that he loves you back.

NOTE - First off, thank you to the anon who requested this!! I hope this one reached your expectations, even if I did put a little twist to it :)) guys... I think we're back!!! coz I decided to start on this last night at around 11:30 PM and I rlly had my creative juices flowing, like it just occured to me so clearly so now ig I'm going to start quite late into the evening if I'm going to start something new :D this fic is inspired by the eldritch horror boyfriend prompts that I came across on TikTok and also bc I felt like writing Leon rlly poetic and soft tonightt teehee :3 That's it and and I hope you really enjoyed this fic :)) Thank you for reading my works!!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!

The dainty chain dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[charliehoennam]

primetime.

a/n: i hate rusty but he brings out my inner hoe byeeeee

pairing: rusty isabitch sabich x f!reader

summary: rusty is overwhelmed by the trial and sought you out to help him forget about his worries.

warning: 18+ ONLY. NSFW. smut, infidelity, c&b torture, suffocation, oral sex, p in v, facesitting, dom-ish reader??

Rusty’s pale blue gaze sweeps over your half-naked body as you come out of the shower, dressed in nothing but a silk black robe as he unpacks the Chinese take-out from the restaurant’s brown paper bag. 

You thank him for receiving the takeout when the desk clerk brought it up to the apartment, smiling at the sight of his messy hair from the shower he took with you.

He smirks back at you and compliments the robe. Leaving half of the containers and sauces in the bag, he turns and pulls you by the hips.

Rusty relishes in the silky touch of your robe, reminded of the silky touch of your most intimate areas. You allow him to kiss you with his hands under the fabric, groping at your ass before gently pushing him back with the reminder that you’re hungry.

Sitting on your lavish couch, you mostly talk about the case he’s been stuck in ever since Carolyn’s death. Between bites and swigs from the brown beer bottle perched on the floor beside you, he confesses things and emotions to you that he feels he can’t confess to anyone.

His lingering love for Carolyn. The troubles in his marriage. The fear of hatred from his children. How jealous he secretly feels to know his wife kissed someone else.

Despite not having romantic feelings towards Rusty, you do consider him a friend. Some friends play golf, shoot hoops or pool. You and Rusty fuck.   

It feels natural for you both. You met Rusty a bit after he began his affair with Carolyn through a dating app. The pair of you were looking for a good talk and fuck and although there were no strings attached on your behalf, Rusty decided to conceal his marriage by hiding hi wedding band.

When you found out the truth, you were livid at Rusty. Not for being married to someone that’s not you – you didn’t love him. You’re happily married to a man who treats you like a queen and is modern enough to have accept your open marriage.

What bothered you is that he didn’t tell you about it. Having sex with other people is only fine when all parties agree to it. He tried to argue that it was the same as your marriage, but you were quick to stomp out his bullshit.

That was when you told Rusty you had to end the relationship with him.

Looking out the panoramic windows of your high-rise apartment, he watches the city from above as you take the dirty empty dishes to the kitchen.

“Isn’t your husband coming home?”

“No. He’s in New York for the week.”

“Does he know you’re seeing me again?”

You pause and glance at him.

“Whatever happened to don’t ask, don’t tell?”

Rusty never liked talking about your husband. Deep down, he felt a little sting of jealousy in his chest. He was never really fond of sharing his toys, but he would never tell you that.

“Just curious as to how you guys make it work?”

“He knows, yes” you reply sitting back on the couch. “And he doesn’t like you.”

“How come he lets you still me?”

“Because choosing who I fuck is decided by me, not him.”

He smirks at your boldness, surprised as he tries to paint a mental image of you talking to your husband about the other guy you fuck.

“I guess that’s only fair” he nods.

“He just doesn’t want me to get into trouble. Your last mistress did end up dead, after all.”

Rusty’s head falls forward as he watches himself wring his hands. You didn’t think before sayin it and his reaction makes you realize how harsh it really sounds.

There’s a tug at your heartstrings that unbridles a guilt you didn’t even know you had inside.

“I’m sorry, Rusty. That came out a lot worse than-“

“It’s alright.”

You can’t tell it’s not. He’s not. Being reminded of Carolyn’s death and the way she was murdered is like a wet rag over a flame.

“I should get going,” Rusty moves to stand feeling like a guest who’s overstayed their welcome.

“No. Stay.”

Your plea comes with a hand on his arm. He looks at your gentle touch and watches it moves to his thigh, slowly caressing the thick muscle there.

“Stay with me, hm?” you whisper as his eyes meet yours.

Cautiously closing the space between you both, you place a tender kiss to his cheek. He closes his eyes, letting your affection melt his worries away. He knows he shouldn’t. It should feel wrong. But his head tilts to the side and meet your butterfly kisses with his lips.

Your legs sweep over his and you move to straddle his lap, quick to unzip his hoodie that shields his shirtless body. His large hands squeeze your thighs and ass here and there as they explore your body.

Your open palms frolic over his furry chest, indulging in the thick layer of dark hair that sends butterflies fluttering around his stomach. Already excited for what’s to come, heat bubbles in his core.

Kneading your ass, his thick fingers slip to your waist to untie the knot of the robe. You let it fall open, too mesmerized by his unyielding kisses on your neck as the silky fabric slides down your shoulders.

Rusty likes to think of your body as a magical map. He knows all the secrets to a world only he knows, filled with hidden paths to the extraordinary highs not even you knew how to unlock.

He knows how to make you come undone; he had made his personal mission to do so and you reciprocated with lust of the same intensity.

Your exposed sex presses against his hardened member. You can feel it as it twitches in his gray sweatpants when his hands capture your breast, squeezing at the soft flesh.

“Take this off.”

His eagerness doesn’t allow him to wait for you to slip your arms from the sleeves, so his hasty hands do the work for you. It forces him to pull away from your neck and cease his bruising mauling. He tosses the t-shirt to the ground; your bra follows and lands on top of it.

Heat pools in your depths like fire under a cauldron as fleeting kisses trail down your sternum and stop in the valley between your breast.

Gravely moans hum out from the back of his throat as he deeply inhales the delightful aroma left on your skin by your favorite body wash.

His hungry lips take their turns altering from one nipple to the other, latching and suckling at the hardening buttons. His restless tongue circles around each of them as he squeezes your breasts together as if he could swallow them both.

Your back arches into his touch which sends waves of pleasure straight to your core, especially when his teeth and growing 5 o’clock shadow scrap along your tender tits.

Skin burning feverishly, you moan his name over and over, telling him how good he’s making you feel. Your praises never fail to ignite something darker in him.

“Lemme taste you again” he breathes against your lips.

Arousal moistens your sex at his request, damp with your lust for him. You nod excitedly just thinking about how well he ate you out just a couple hours ago.

He lays down on the couch, stretching his tall frame along its length. With his legs being too long, he has to bend his knees to rest his soles on the cushion while you watch him adjust, waiting for the right moment to straddle his head.

Fully naked, he reaches for your thighs to pull you closer. You carefully settle your knees on either side of his head and remove the back cushion of his sofa to make room for your position.

Tucking your bare feet under his arms, he impatiently snakes his arms around your frame and grope at your breasts. Your hips lower and you finally take your seat on his face.

His tongue hungrily laps your drenched plushy lips, licking up every drop of your arousal. One of your hands combs through his dark hair while the other rests on the sofa’s arm, keeping you balanced.  

Your hips slowly rock back and forth, hovering over his mouth just enough to let his tongue sandwich itself between your juicy lips.  

Hands gliding down your front, his fingers eagerly creep down past your hips to reach your cunt. They gently pull at your sweet lips, parting them in such a way that makes fire rise to your cheeks at the extreme exposure.

Finding your sensitive bundle of nerves, he suckles at it and alters to and from the circling of his tongue. He drives you quickly closer and closer towards that familiar climax through faint rippling waves.

As the pleasure builds, his finger rubs at your throbbing nub over and over while his tongue delves deeper, hungrily lapping at the sweet juices trickling from your walls. Grinding down against his face, his finger is replaced by his nose, nudging your pulsing bundle of nerves with every thrust.

Rusty smiles to himself watching your breasts bounce. He revels in his ability of making you contort and whine as he pushes you over that mind-numbing apex that has your body trembling with pleasure.

“Fuck!” you breath heavily rolling your hips along his face. “You like that huh? You like it when I sit on your face?”

He nods with dark devilish eyes, holding your hips aggressively to force them down.

“Don’t tap out quick on me, Rusty.”

You smirk almost evilly as you smother his nose and mouth with your pussy, forcing his wiggling tongue to fuck your soaking hole. Watching the veins on his temples throb, you chuckle as the weight suffocates him.

“Atta boy. Taking it like a champ for me. Can’t get enough of this pussy, can ya? Little more. Little more! You can take it!”

You giggle as his eyes begin to glaze with darkness and his hand finally taps your tummy, a silent request to breathe.

“Such a good boy for me, baby” you praise him as he pants breathlessly, reaching his hand down to stroke his stiff aching cock.

“No,” you order firmly with a contradicting smile. “You don’t get to control that pleasure. That’s my job.”

“Y-yes” he pants.

Rusty’s eyes never leave the sight of your pussy, even when you stand and remove yourself from your human seat.

With a nod of your head, you command him to scoot further down as you hand him one of the decorative pillows to place under his head. Your leg lifts again and you straddle him once more, only this time, you grant yourself the view of his dick as his mouth begins its work again.

Releasing his heavily hard and thick member, you push his sweat pants down and slide them off his legs with his help. The second your hand wraps around it, his hands squeeze your ass cheeks.

You press his leaking tip to your lips, pushing your spit onto his head. Judging from the precum, he doesn’t need much, but you like it when things get messy.

Rusty has to contain himself and refrain from combusting when he feels your mouth on his cock. The work you do with your mouth is incomparable and the reason he always tries to be ‘good’ for you – to get himself a blowjob that he’ll touch himself over the following months.

Although you love your husband very much and are more than content with his package, it’s undeniable that Rusty’s is far bigger in length and in girth.

You moan as you take him in deep with your finger and thumb at the base, his tip hitting the back of your throat with ease. As your head bobs up and down, your other hand moves lower to cup his balls and gingerly squeeze them.

One at a time, you’re careful to not apply too much pressure too soon. You work him up to that slowly until you’re able to tourniquet them with your fingers. You squeeze them, making them plump for punishment.  

“Ready to be a good boy again, baby?”

He hums but you feel his head nod between your leg, drenched in the sticky slimy mess he’s made of your cunt.

“You’re not gonna cum, are you?” you smirk gently grazing your open palm over the delicate swollen sack.

He shakes his head eagerly.

You deliver the first slap. Not too hard; just enough to allow to prepare stronger ones. He groans as his body trembles underneath yours.

“Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“F-feels so fucking good!” he whimpers squeezing your ass as he braces for more blows.

The delicious pain overwhelms him enough to lose track of your pleasure, so you order him to get back to work and threaten to stop. You laugh at how quick he is to bury his face back into your sopping pussy.

After a few more and harder blows to his balls, separated by the bobbing of your head and stroking of his dick, he pushes you firmly with a firm slap to your ass.

“Gimme this fucking pussy,” he begs.

He doesn’t bother to wipe your juices off his face as you both stand. You can taste yourself when his lips desperately crash on you. Dipping his larger frame, he taps at your thighs as an unspoken invitation to jump.

His strong arms are quick to effortlessly lift you up until your legs are able to hug his hips. He guides you backwards and pins you to the panoramic wall of sturdy glass.

Using your hand, you align his cock to your entrance and him penetrate you with ease. You moan as you relish in the fullness and stretch of him inside you. He smirks to himself watching your mouth hang open in a daze.

“Let’s give my neighbors a show, baby.”