#nobody misses him. nobody was worried for him. nobody CARED to even ask how he is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohdeerfully · 1 year ago

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alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously.

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long.

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.”

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right.

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #ohdeerfully #alastor is eepy #fluff

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luveline · 26 days ago

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hi jade I would love to see spencer post mexico with a BAU intern who’s nervous about her first few weeks, maybe he makes it his mission to see her settle in?

ty for requesting! fem, 1.2k

“I still can’t believe I missed out on working with Aaron Hotchner.”

Spencer nods as he stirs a spoon around his fiftieth cup of tea this week. “It’s genuinely a shame. And he worked here for more than half of the BAU’s lifespan, so if you look at it through a–”

“Mathematical standpoint?” you ask.

“Exactly. It’s a statistical improbability to work at the BAU without him. Even when he wasn’t unit chief, he was still a profiler.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, glaring down at a tray of coffee and tea, your note resting beside it.

“If Aaron were here,” Spencer says, taking his spoon to the sink for a quick rinsing, “he’d tell you that you don’t have to make the coffee for everyone. You don’t have to ask who wants a cup every time you make one. That’s… not very American.”

“Who cares about being American? I’m trying to be polite.”

“You’re being taken advantage of.”

“Thank you for helping.”

Spencer has taken the tea side of things. “You’re welcome.” And he knows a part of him has changed now after the last few shitty months, a confidence at having seen the worst scenario of your life playing out while you’re completely powerless to stop it, but Spencer has friends who love him, and he’s not really as powerless as he thinks. So when he looks at you and he thinks about how worried you are every day that you aren’t doing enough to belong here, he knows he can change that. “Maybe tomorrow, you can make coffee for you and nobody else.”

“They like me.”

“Well, yeah, but everyone will like you tomorrow when they have to make their own coffee.”

You slow your stirring. Under your lashes, your eyes carry a dark sort of glow, mid-lit kitchen and— Spencer doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks you might have the loveliest eyes in Virginia. “Is it really stupid of me?” you ask quietly.

Spencer shakes his head.

Your shoulders relax. You’re wearing this cutesy long sleeve shirt, cream with black piping along the neckline cross-crossing below your chest with a little black bow nestled at the valley, accentuating the line of your shoulders, and the lengths of your arms. Spencer tries not to stare, but you catch his looking and peer down. “What?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

“Do I have coffee on me?”

“No.”

“Spencer, were you…”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says, glad to hear you laughing, then, to know that you know he’s not a perv. “I was just thinking that I like your blouse.”

“Blouse. You must be older than you look, Dr. Reid.”

“How old do I look?”

You huff a laugh under your breath and pick up your tray of coffee. “I’m gonna start passing these out. You don’t have to do the tea, I’ll come back.”

There’s far less tea than coffee. “No, I can do it.”

You nod with determination and turn away. ”Thank you!” you call as you go.

Spencer takes the tea out. The second to last is for Emily, who’s digging at her forehead with a fisted hand when he gets through the door of her office. “Hey, Em,” he says quietly.

“Spence.”

“Brought your tea.”

“Jesus, thank you.”

He lingers by her desk, glancing over her things. She kept some of Hotch’s stuff before he left. Spencer knows she can’t part with the photo of the group of them at their favourite bar a few months after JJ had Henry, even if she made a bunch of jokes after Hotch left it behind. Good boss, terrible guy. How could he just leave this here?

Spencer sees it as a passing of the baton. You’re in charge. “You okay?”

“Headache.”

“PMS?”

“Sure, but you shouldn’t ask me that, Spencer,” she says, laughing and taking her mug of tea eagerly.

“You’re always tired at the start.”

“Can you stop? You’re being creepy.”

“Did you want a hug?”

Emily sips her tea. “Mm, ask me later. So, who made this?”

“Me. Why?”

“The new girl steeps it for too long.”

“Come on, don’t call her that.”

Emily’s brows rise. “I don’t. To her face, I don’t. She is the new girl, though.”

“I think she’s more than aware of it.”

“Oh, you have a big crush on her, huh?” Emily leans back in her chair, her dark hair curled lightly against her shoulders. “She’s pretty.”

“If it were that easy, I’d have a crush on you.”

“You don’t?”

Spencer rolls his eyes lovingly. On the landing, he looks out over the office and follows you moving from desk to desk. You’re quick, and you sit at your own desk to dive back into ViCAP chores glaringly without your own cup of tea or coffee.

Emily’s right. He does have a crush on you. But it’s not something any of his friends need to know yet. He knocks Luke’s desk lightly as he passes and grabs his tea where it’s still steaming on his own. As he comes up behind you, he notices your fingers clenching and unclenching on your thigh, the tight knot of your neck. God, he’s not good at this, but he’s gonna try.

“Hey, angel?” he asks quietly.

You don’t realise he’s talking to him for a few seconds, then your head tips back, and you’re all softness in the April gloom when you smile shyly. “Yeah?”

“Tea.”

Your lips part. “Oh. Oh, thank you. I forgot my coffee.”

“Tea has an amino acid called L-theanine. It’s rare in that it can actually cause relaxation in the body. In comparison, coffee–”

“Sucks?”

He grins. “Sucks. S’that why you forgot yours?”

“I forgot mine ‘cos Anderson looked like he was gonna collapse, he’s so tired. Is that my future?”

“Maybe. But it’s worth it. If you can’t do it that’s fine, obviously, the turnover rate isn’t exactly low, Emily told you that herself. But it’s worth it, I promise.”

You hold his gaze. “I know.”

Spencer clasps your shoulder, tentative and deliberate at once. He feels the bone when he squeezes, but he doesn’t do it too hard.

“Sorry about all the fuss.”

He strokes your arm with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he says, hand falling down the curve of your shoulder to warm your upper arm, “I don’t mind it.” He takes his touch away, not necessarily because he wants to. It’s too early to know what you’re feeling; he hasn’t learned your tells or whiles yet, but he hopes he will.

Your face drifts toward your shoulder, as though following his touch unconsciously. Spencer’s heart races like a blinker circuit at the thought.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I appreciate it, Spencer. All your help. I really do.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

As he stands up, he rubs your shoulder again, a half a seconds touch he thinks Hotch would be proud of, if he were still there to see it.

(And you —ViCAP is kicking your ass and the smell of coffee makes your head hurt, but your hot new coworker makes each day easier, ‘cos he touches like he talks. Soft, and gentle, and eager to please.)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic

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cameronluvr · 1 year ago

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TENNIS COURT — rafe cameron x kook!reader

summary: you beg rafe to play some tennis with you on your private tennis court, but he gets tired of losing and fucks you right there instead.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, semi public sex, risky sex, pet names, just PURE smut in this one — lmk if i missed any! 𖤓

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you stand in your backyard, fiddling with your tennis skirt before hearing the door open. you look up with a grin on your face upon seeing your boyfriend in his cute tennis outfit.

“adorable,” you giggle.

“shut up. come on,” he laughs, holding your hand as you walk down the steps of your huge yard which lead to the tennis court. your mom is a tennis player, so having a whole private court in your own backyard was awesome.

you both grab a racket each before walking to opposite sides of the court.

“you’ve played tennis before, right?” you ask, giggling as you swing your racket in your hand. you grew up playing the sport, so you were pretty good at it by now.

“of course i have” he says, getting into position, ready for you to serve the ball. “hm, okay, let’s see who’s better then, rafey” you smirk, both getting into competitive mode.

you swing the ball up into the air, hitting it with your racket, watching as it flies over to rafe’s side. he rushes to hit it, but he completely misses, making you cover your mouth to hide your laugh.

“that didn’t happen.” he says, running to catch the ball with his hand. “okay, you serve then” you chuckle. he’s so cute. he was definitely lying about having played tennis before.

he gets back into position, lining himself up before throwing the ball up and swinging his bat, this time hitting the ball. but, the ball goes the opposite direction to where he wanted it to go, landing in the sidelines.

“fuck,” he frustrated himself.

you can’t help but to laugh at him. you both continue playing, or trying to play before rafe got fed up, tossing his racket aside and walking over to you. “you sure you’ve played tennis before?” you squint with suspicion and a giggle.

“y’know, tennis isn’t really my thing.” he says, laughing it off before pulling you into a hug. you loved sharing these moments together, they were sweet, it was pure love.

“no? then what is?” you grin, looking up at him as your chin rests on his chest. “you, baby” he smirks down at you, his tall figure towering over you.

“yeah?” you smirk, biting your lip slightly. “yeah, you look so fucking sexy in those shorts i can barely think about anything else.” he tells you, reaching his hands around and down to your ass, gripping your cheeks and pulling them up, making you gasp.

“aww, is that why you were so bad at tennis?” you joke, making him separate your ass cheeks slightly which turned you on so bad, and he knew it. “rafe, don’t do that” you whine, knowing your parents were home and you couldn’t do anything.

“why not, baby? hm?” he asks, rubbing your butt to tease you more. “you know why” you whine. “n’aww. you think mommy and daddy will see you out here?” rafe giggles at you being so worried. “duh,” you raise your eyebrows sarcastically.

“my love, we can’t even see the house from here.” rafe tells you, twisting your body around to allow you to see. he points to the bushes surrounding that side of the tennis court, followed by a wall behind it. your parents surely wouldn’t be able to see, but it’s definitely still risky.

“but we’re not gonna fuck out here, silly” you roll your eyes, wishing he’d stop teasing you but you clearly don’t get his point. “says who?” he asks. “wait— really? you wanna fuck here? but— it’s so open..” you widen your eyes, looking around the yard and being able to see your neighbors houses.

“who cares? nobody will see us.” he says as if he’s certain. “how do you know?” you ask, still looking around but his hand gently grabs your face, pulling it forward to face him. “just trust me. don’t be so paranoid, i got you. it’s just me and you, gorgeous” he reassures you, smiling before dropping his hand and pulling you close again.

his hands went straight back to your ass cheeks, but this time up your skirt. “rafeee…” you whine, letting out a moan as he toys with your ass, knowing that was a weakness of yours.

“shh… let me make you feel good, baby” he whispers in your ear, leaning his head down to your neck to kiss it. you trust him, letting him feel around with your body before slipping his hand down the front of your skirt and playing with your pussy, making you moan.

after kissing and touching each other for a little, you both move over to the side of the court where there is a seating area. without hesitation, he spins you around and bends you over the seat. you giggle at his sudden movements, feeling as he slips his hand up your skirt again, only this time to move your panties to the side.

he rubs your pussy a bit, “mhm’ so wet for me” he says, making you moan a bit louder when he slips two fingers in you. your own hand covers your mouth, while the other kept you held up. “now, now, don’t make them hear you” rafe lets out a laugh as a huff through his nose, and you put your head down in embarrassment.

“mmm” you hum at the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you. “that’s it, baby, you like that?” he asks, smirking and loving the sound of your wet pussy. “y-yes… god” you shut your eyes and leave your mouth agape. if his fingers were enough to please you, how does his cock feel?

“you want my dick, princess? hm?” he asks, softly raising the pitch in his voice. “mhm.. please” you nod, making his smirk grow bigger though you can’t see his face.

“you wanna take me like this, from behind?” he asks, seeing you nod again. “atta’ girl” he pulls his fingers out of you, slapping your ass and making you jolt before he begins pulling his shorts down a bit, allowing his long, hard dick to spring out.

he moves more forward, rubbing his tip along your wet folds, making you let out a long hum. “i need it…” you say after he teases your pussy for a while. “you need it?” he asks. “yeah, please..” you beg.

he wastes no time to fulfil your needs. he positions himself near your entrance, slightly pushing the tip in before grabbing your hips with both hands, pulling you back whilst thrusting forward, making him instantly slam into you. you cover your mouth again, squeezing it this time. you couldn’t stay quiet, not with rafe inside of you.

“stay quiet, doll, y’don’t wanna get caught, do you?” he asks, knowing the obvious answer. “fuck… i- i can’t…” you moan underneath your hand, but it wasn’t quiet enough. rafe takes over, nudging your hand out the way to grip your mouth for you.

his grip was hard, but it was making a difference. your moans are muffled, only being able to breathe through your nose now. you grab his hand with yours, holding onto it as he fucks you rough.

the odd few sounds of cars driving past, windows slamming and dogs barking caught you off guard. “relax, doll” he tells you, shushing you as he removes his hand from your mouth to grab a fistful of your hair instead. you moan, covering your mouth with your hand again. you seriously didn’t want your parents to hear you, but boy, was rafe making it so difficult.

“fuck… i love you, pretty girl” he lets out a moan, gripping your hair tighter as he thrusts deeper into you. “i… i love you more—” you struggle to say in between deep breaths caused by his pace. “impossible.” he chuckles, showing his perfect teeth as he pounds into you from behind.

you let out some muffled moans underneath your hand, making rafe smirk and admire how he has you acting. reaching your hand down the front of your skirt to rub your clit made rafe harder than he already was. he loves it so much when you touch yourself in front of him.

“fuck, that’s it, princess… rub your pussy f’me,” he moans, thrusting into you at a perfect pace to hear your mumbled but pornographic moans. “mhmmm..” you hum, rubbing your clit at a fast speed.

he keeps fucking into you, hard and fast, both of you getting sloppier and wetter by the minute. “fuck rafe… i— i feel so close” you close your eyes, roughly gripping onto the seat you’re bent over.

“fuckk, let it go, princess” he tells you, rolling his eyes into the back of his head at how amazing you feel. “i… i am” you moan, your body starting to shake as you come on his cock. he keeps going, thrusting back and forth, in and out of you, feeling and seeing your juices leak out from the sides of his length inside you.

just seconds later, he finishes too, right inside of you. luckily, you’re on birth control. you both ride out your highs for a few moments, before he slowly pulls out of you. “fuck, ‘ts a little messy” he laughs, watching as his cum leaks out of your pussy and down your thigh.

“rafe, help” you quietly laugh, staying bent over the chair as he quickly looks for something to wipe you with. there’s nothing around, so he takes his shirt off and wipes your dripping pussy with it, “rafe, is that your shirt?” you ask, turning to look over your shoulder.

“it was the only thing i could use, alright?” he laughs it off, wiping away the cum that was dripping down your legs. after quickly cleaning yourselves up, with rafe’s shirt, unfortunately, you both head back inside to change into your normal clothes and out of your tennis ones.

walking into the house hand in hand with rafe, you walk past your mom and dad in the kitchen. “have fun playing tennis?” your mom asks with a smile as she prepares dinner. “yeah, i won” you turn around and giggle as your parents laugh, watching you flick your hair to show off. “yeah, yeah, i’ll practice more. you gotta’ teach me some time, mrs y/l/n.” he says to your mom as you both walk up the stairs. “of course, sweetheart” your mom smiles.

“aww, if only she knew how much of a slut you were… for me, not tennis.” he whispers in your ear as you get to the top of the stairs, both laughing as you enter your bedroom together.

SMUT SMUT SMUTTTTTT😩😩😩 3rd piece of work uploaded in ONE DAY? go me hahahahah. HOPE YA ENJOY I LOVE YALLLLLL <33 NOT PROOFREAD BTW. I’M IN A RUSH I GTG

@cameronluvr

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader smut #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron

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pedge-page · 6 months ago

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Ok can I request something maybe out there. but sedation kink with doctor Joel. like I’m kind of into the idea of doctor/scientist prepping me for an exam or study and putting me under, reassuring and stroking my face because I’ve never been under anesthesia before and he wipes my few tears as I drift off. then he’s fondling me, putting my legs in stirrups, and observing my reactions to different stimuli like fingers, a brush, vibrator, mouth, putting cooling/tingly cream on my nipples/clit, etc., as I’m out and making notes and taking polaroids of my reactions like little twitches and noises, how wet I get, if my nipples react (if he can make me cum by just my nipples) edging me and im making little tired whines but eventually making me cum a few times while I’m out and he’s just watching what happens from down there and talking into his little mic that’s recording all this. then if I start to come to too early he tuts and asks if I want to stay under and I’m still out of it but drowsily say yes because I’m confused but feels good and he (safely) gives me some a little bit more of sedation just enough to keep me in that floaty place and starts fucking me so good that I actually come to while he’s inside and I fully come to as he’s removing the monitors and telling me how good I was for him and asking if it felt good and he’s giving me some water and kissing me telling me it’s okay to sleep because I’m still tired as he cleans me up so he can take us both home.

A Doctor’s Care

Doctor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Nonny, you practically wrote this yourself. Please give yourself a massive pat on the back, because this was a fantastic idea. I've been foaming at the mouth about it for months (I'm so sorry It took so long!) Hope you're still around to read this!

Warnings : virgin!Reader, corrupt!doctor, corruption kink, sedation kink, non-con, oral, throat fucking, squirting, sex toys, nipple play, unprotected sex, kinda DDDNE-ish , groping, slight breeding kink, pussy pronouns, foot fetish, uhhhh please lmk if I'm missing anything

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“Now, you can start counting up to ten.”

You take a deep breath, trying you best to ignore the needle he had just inserted into your arm. “One, two, th-three, fooour, f-fi…”

He softly brushes your smoothed cheek, watching as your eyelids sag, the heavy lure of sleep washing over your entire body. Your muscles sink into the bed, eyes barely being able to close fully. You had never felt more relaxed. Up to this point, you were an axnious mess, but you knew you were in the good, trustworthy hands of Doctor Miller.

A stray tear wells up, threatening to spill. He smiles warmly and brushes it away for you. He doesn’t want to see you cry when you don’t even know why.

If you were a little more observant, you would have questioned why it was only Dr Miller moving forward with an anesthesia-induced operation. Typically there’s always more than one practitioner in the room. You would have wondered why nobody else was in the hospital at all.

He told you he could make a special booking for your physical exam, just the two of you, to help alleviate any anxiety about the scary aura of a hospital, the sick people roaming around and watching, peeping in through the doors. He made sure you were the only one here today, to help you get comfortable and have nothing to worry about.

Of course, it is Sunday. Nobody operates on Sunday. The hospital was completely empty save for his office and this room.

Not only is this out of standard procedure, this was off the books.

This was illegal, and you had no idea.

“Dr. Miller, log 47,” he says into his little recorder. “Patient is sedated fully. Heartrate and breathing—“ he gently hovers his fingers rigor below your nose, his eyes scanning the beeping monitor next to you—“ normal and stable. Beginning examination.”

Maybe, if you were smart, you would have also questioned why you needed to be sedated for a basic physical exam. You didnt ask what a physical really entailed, which gave him the perfect excuse for... well. This.

Joel had offered you some privacy before where he left his office to allow you to change your day clothing into the sterile gown. Such gentlemanly, professional attitude is tossed out the door as he doesn’t hesitate to unfasten the front, popping the buttons off one by one. He starts at your chest, exposing the silk smooth curve of your breasts. “Beautiful, healthy body,” he breathes. Every entimeter of your skin is observed closely. He continues, making his way down to your stomach, admiring your naval with his thick hand petting softly over your belly and unbuttoning down your hips. “I can already see excellent shape for reproduction, should she choose…”

He grins, now having you fully exposed to him under the bright light. Joel places his recorder in his chest pocket, leaving the mic on so he can continue to do his work with both steady hands.

“Fuck me,” he groans, the tent in his slacks already pressing against the cool metal table under you. He adjusts himself slightly, no concern for the perversion of his hard cock jutting out in the open as he brushes it against your legs and arms while circling you.

Dr. Miller was a practiced man. He'd lifted enough unconscious body parts throughout his career, being careful yet precise. It took him no time to hoist your legs into the cradled bend of the stirrups, spread wide and slightly elevated so that your core was exposed.

“Testing reactivity,” he says before pressing your feet with his thumbs. He massages your arch, feeling the tendons shift and resist. His lips ghost the ball of your foot. "Smooth here too. The skin of the feet haven't started callousing yet." Joel’s wet tongue glides along the crevice, thick and warm, before sucking on your toes, lubricating them with his tongue over and over again. He moans, closing his eyes and palming his bulge. You don’t seem to stir at all, but he does briefly catch the way your eyeballs shift underneath your lids, brows drawing then releasing.

He pushes the stirrups forward more, hands on the backs of your thighs until your knees are bent, as if ready to birth.

“Very healthy looking patient below the waist. I’ll need to taste more—test more before the insertion.”

Joel shifts along your side, and with no hesitation, grasps your tits roughly. He scrunches and squeezes tightly, pushing your nipples out until they’re hardened and swollen. He loves the way they feel in his big palms. It was last week when you let him do a breast exam, he was able to fondle them to his liking. He wanted to give them a taste then, but knew you weren’t ready for that.

Consciously, anyway.

A hot month descends upon your breast, and he glances up once again to see your reaction. He rolls your nip around and around before biting lightly. That receives a flinch. He smiles, sucking harder. They’re so warm and firm in his mouth, and he can’t help but suckle along them with fat suctioning sound each time he releases. “Very good potential for milk. Bet she’d make the sweetest milk.” He draws away, grabbing something from the table next to him. “Documenting …” he dabs some freezing cream directly onto your nipple and snaps a picture when your head jolts in surprise. Little sounds get lodged in your throat as he rubs it into your skin, kneading your mounds like dough. “Pretty thing…” he whispers seductively.

He alternates between his hot mouth and the cold cream, watching your head toss slightly here and there. Your heartrate had also picked up, beeping a little more fervently. Nothing major, but a few beats per minute quicker than before.

“We’re gonna stress her breathing next,” he sighs, moving up above your head. He feels your collar bone, working his hands up along your esophagus and underneath your neck. Pressing slightly to watch how much further your chest expands for air to ensure you’re still adjusting breath properly.

Dr Miller unzips his trousers, his hard length falling free and slapping your forehead. He chuckles lazily, rolling it over and over, his tip nudging your nose and closed eyes. You’re so compliant like this. Not even a peep of protest as he nestles his balls overtop your sockets and pushes his head against your soft lips.

“Seeing how well she can take …foreign objects…obstructing the jugluar.”

He presses in, your lips parting of their own accord to accomodate the intruder. “Ughhh,” he growls. His hands splay along the table, inching himself forward with a roll of his hips. Your jaw opens wider, forced to take the growing girth of his member. A strangled noise hiccups in your throat, and he immediately draws out. The monitor by your side beeps loudly before returning to a regular pace.

He aligns himself again and fucks your mouth, this time further than before until the mushroom tip is bulging in your throat.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he moans heavenly. He pulls out, lets you breathe, then forces it deeper. Again and again until you’re taking him for five seconds at a time, deeper and deeper, the table rattling with his incessant humps. “Fuck..you take that, swallowing my cock like a princess, you take cock so good little slut.”

He thrusts in and out until he’s on the verge of cumming. Slipping his cock out the final time, he grips the base, growling to keep his orgasm down. He’d been thinking about it a long time, where he’d defile you last with his seed. As tempting as your tight throat was, he knew there was better ways to make you his confidential patient, forever and always.

Your vital signs were steady again, although more elevated than you started. Your head twitched to the side slightly, eyeballs rolling under your eyelids. Your body can sense something is happening externally, but cannot rouse itself to intercept.

He smiles, stroking your spit stained cheeks. “You’re doin’ very well, sweet pea.” its one of his favorite things about these types of exams. Watching how much a patient's instinct tries to fight his ministrations. Yet failing under the sedation and trusting senses of its owner.

For the next hour, Dr. Miller plays with your body. He’s inserted a bullet vibrator up your vaginal walls, controlling its speed and intensity on the little device. With each change in setting, your body reacted differently. Your hips bucked involuntarily, head swayed side to side. Hums of pleasure bubbled in your chest and out your nose, straining to make a coherent noise. He watched, spreading your folds so your little clit was perfectly on display. She throbbed, swelling to an engorged state. So vibrantly colored, filled with blood as he sets her nerves ablaze.

He’d press his warm lips to her before patching it with a cubed ice. Your body didn’t like that, stomach tensing and knees wanting to lock. He had to get the stirrups tightened around your calves to keep you spread open for him.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers quietly against your thigh, his plush lips ghosting the inside. He’s left his mic on recording, giving himself the freedom to savor your goosebumps for himself.

Dr Miller circled around you again, viewing your exposed chest. Your nipples were stiff, and he makes note about how erect they’d become since starting your test. He presses his mouth there, his fingers dancing south to come in contact with your drooping pussy. He’s got a little cup underneath your butt, to capture any of your juices that might leak from his ministrations. For extra (taste) testing in the future.

With his mouth on your breast and three fingers rubbing your clit in clockwise motion, Joel suckles and fingers you with deadly precision.

“Trying to make the patient—“ his tongue circles over your nipple thrice before nipping at your nipple, sucking it to a point—“reach climax.”

He spanks your pussy, rewarding himself with a quiver from your body. “That’s it babygirl, you feel that?” He slaps it again, your body jolting, but his teeth sink further into the flesh of your boob to keep your chest in place.

He removes his hand entirely, focusing solely on sucking your tits. There’s a little device wedged inside you, not unlike the bullet vibrator, but this one can sense contractions. It connects to a monitor across the room, recording the pulses inside your pussy.

“That’s it—I see it—she’s working up to it—“ he sucks harder on your tits, swallowing his own saliva, eyes desperately strained to see your cunt reflected back on him on the TV and the matching pulses growing next to it.

The lines reach their heightened point, and your body wreathes appropriately as you cum. Your poor little cunny, contracting around nothing as you orgasm from his tongue on your breasts alone.

“I want to see if I can just—“ he slips his hand back down to your pussy, diving three fingers in at once and rapidly squelching upward towards that gummy part inside.

Suddenly, you let out an audible yelp, knees folding inward as liquid gushes from your opening.

“Oohhhh yes, that’s a good girl, that’s a good girl!” He praises, smirking as you continue to squirt all over his palm and splash onto the floor. The fucking cup wouldn’t capture all of it, an he’d have to really clean up. But he wasn’t expecting such promising results.

“She’s well hydrated for sure.”

By the way you shake your head, eyes starting to peep over, it doesn’t seem like you knew you could squirt either.

“Shhhh,” he hums, putting his palm over your eyes to block the light. “Rest now, you’re in good hands. Do you want to keep sleeping?” He glances over at the IV bag, already dripping another extra droplet into your system. “You’re so warm and safe here. Let’s rest a little more.”

You let out a sigh, eyes closed and nodding slightly before falling to the side, back into a deep state of unconsciousness.

How pathetic you can’t even tell your lower half is soaking wet of your own doing.

He makes his way back to stand between your legs, kicking away the little rolling stool.

“See how well this pussy takes a real poundin.’” He pumps his shaft along your slick entrance, dabbing it repeatedly and grinning at how wet it sounds. He’d been edging himself this whole time. Not just this evening, but the entire few months he’s been you ever doting, caring, overly invested doctor, waiting to get you right here, spread out for him.

“She’s still so soft, so tight,” he gulps with a pant. Your chest was inflating up and down more quickly, so he knew you could feel something happening. “You’re doin’ great, baby. Just—just a little more—“

He notches the tip along your weeping hole. “She’s so patient for me.” He wonders if you’ll feel this in the morning when you wake.

Sliding in the first inch, Joel opens his jaw in silent prayer, head tilted back towards the ceiling. He pushes in again, feeling the first bit of resistance from your walls. Shit, he knew you were a virgin. You had marked it embarrassingly during one of the first appointments where he intimately needed to know all your sexual activities. You’d admitted having masturbated, which he encouraged as healthy, though the truth was so that he wouldn’t have to try too hard to stretch you out at this exact moment. Luckily he had loosened you up pretty well with his fingers and tongue this good hour, so when the good doctor pulls out then thrusts half his length in one go, you can’t offer any more rebellion to it.

When he finally bottoms out, he lets out a satisfied whimper. His cheek turned upright into a selfish, wicked grin. “Fuck, your pussy looks so good around my cock,” he says loudly, taunting the fact that you couldn’t retort even if you could hear him properly. He hasn’t had any relevant, professional notes to take for a long while now, instead resorting to little ‘fuckfuckfuck’s as he thrusts his hips in and out of your now loosened cunt.

He reaches for the wand vibrator, switching it on and positioning it right at your clit, against the base of his dick. Its whirs to life, making your whole body contract in on itself.

“Auuggghhhh fuck yeah—fuck that’s it sweet girl—just feel that—feelin’ it so good.” He continues to fuck you open, biting his tongue and watching you shift with each rut into your unconscious body. Your eyelashes flutter, instinct fighting to get you awake. Jesus he wants it—wants you to wake up right fucking now, see what he’s doing to you. The way your eyes would float, confused, coming into focus as the trusted doc is battering your once pure insides in the name of your health.

You didn’t know he’d already been fired and relocated from 6 different hospitals across the country for this exact reason. Granted, most anyone could report was inappropriate behavior and groping. He’d have his way with girls like you, in this exact position before. If anybody ever fully caught on to this, he’d be strung up in jail by now.

Whines bubble up from your chest as he gropes your tit with one hand, swirling the wand around your nub with the other. It takes a few minutes of on and off before he feels you clenching around him and cumming. Your back arches slightly, gasping through your mouth. He has to steady himself with his hands flat on either side of the observation table, hunched over and ramming into you while you’re still squeezing the fuck out of him. He likes the way your juices splash down his thighs and balls with each puncture. He’s a good doctor though, making sure you wouldn’t bleed or tear throughout this rough ordeal. He’s a proper man when it comes to his practice.

“Shit, shit—babydoll—fuckyeah this pussy—I’m not gonna be able to give this one up--“ He hums to himself, eyes shut.

You barely register the fact that you’re coming to. Your eyes are slitted but the tunnel vision is still so strong. Foggy and muffled, you can feel your body moving but can’t bring your muscles to do anything about it.

“D-J-oel,” you rasp, eyes fluttering close again as you definitely feel something deep within your stomach. You’re still so out of it, half your senses fading and drawing while being stimulated, unable to fully reach your brain. Your body is screaming to wake up though despite the tempting lull back to sleep. So you open your eyes again, rollin them around you. Your vision becomes clearer, still blurring but able to make outlines and lights now. Still in the hospital, still with the bright lights, still with Doctor Miller—

Doctor Miller, standing between your spread, naked legs with his wet, hard and long cock disappearing in and out of you. Doctor Miller, cursing and staring at where your bodies join, oblivious to your aroused state. Doctor Miller, telling you sweet words like how he’s gonna take you home, he’s gonna keep you like this till you’re full of him, then he's really gonna watch you grow, none of it really making coherent sense to you at the moment.

But there is that feeling inside, deep within your core that’s growing. Everything feels so wet and hot at the same time. He’s incessantly rubbing something delicious, electrocuting your nerves to an awakened state so far more than anything else.

You let out a strangled moan, and his head shoots up, watching you roll your neck and look around. Your sounds get louder, jaw flexing to let them loose.

He's been caught, and he doesn’t stop. “Fuck-fuck babygirl that’s it—M’takin real good care of ya—watch…watch me…watch me when ya cum—“ he groans, gripping your hips and slamming into you almost abusively.

“Ah-ah-ah-ah!” You wail, unable to tear your limited vision away from him as he ruts like a dog in heat, his hips humping your ass.

He lets out a startled bark, stilling inside you all the way. That makes your eyes fly wide open, more awake now than before as you start to cum around him. You don’t know what’s happening, don’t understand it and yet your body only knows pleasure, and that’s what your brain releases all over your insides and out. He’s so warm inside, filling you with something hot and sticky.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on you, and even greater on him. He pulls out, mummuring some praise at your pearly, pulsing slit. Your heart is pounding, but body exhausted, like you’d been at this for a while now. You can’t move your head, and your eyes feel heavy once again.

“Hey, hey,” he coos softly next to you. He cups your face in his big hands, bringing you to look at him. “Hey there, angel. How we feeling? You did amazing.”

He feels gentle, touching your fuzzy spots all over again like honey. “Mmm,” you nod.

He smiles, beginning to turn off the monitors and unhook you from the sensors. “Did such a great job for me, never had a patient as good as you.” He kisses your forehead, long and comforting. now with the needle out, you still feel drowsy, but with his reassuring words and touches, you don’t feel the need to get up any time soon.

“Here, drink this—“ he hands you a little platic cup of water with a straw. You take a few sips, suddenly feel a massive, near painful pressure in your throat, like something had been lodged there not long ago. Coughing slightly, you give him back the cup, falling back against the headrest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. No need to fight it. You can keep resting.” He kisses you on the lips, silencing any protest. Your brain still feels so floaty, you don’t even question the way his tongue swipes along your teeth. You don’t care, enjoying the way he’s treating you so well after the procedure. He makes you feel safer than ever.

“Gonna clean you up now. Take you home.”

Of course, you don’t think about it, as he makes you feel so at home now. You quickly fall back asleep. Joel wheels you out of the room, down towards his un-registered truck and into the back where he whisks you away to your very new, very permanent, very secluded "home."

- - - -

Taglist:

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 4 months ago

Text

I GET YOU

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( moodboard does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

WARNINGS: none? i can’t really think of anything, just pure fluff! soft!rafe :’) maybe the slightest mention of worrying about what others think/fear of being judged? lmk if i missed anything !!

SUMMARY: rafe and weird!reader are one of the strangest couples in the obx. nobody has any clue how the cunning and cruel rafe cameron is dating the epitome of sunshine. but rafe just gets her, and she just gets him🫶

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy 🍮🍒 anon, and i hope it was what you asked for, and i added in that the reader makes jewellery and collects sonny’s angels :) and sorry for the late post !! <3

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

THIRD PERSON +

The Outer Banks sun was blazing overhead as Y/N wandered down the streets of Kildare Island. The vibrant clinking of her many bracelets echoed softly in the quiet cul-de-sac as she adjusted her brightly colored tote bag over her shoulder. It was filled to the brim with craft supplies—beads of every color, rolls of thread, and the newest addition to her collection: two tiny Sonny’s Angels figurines she’d found at a small thrift shop on the mainland.

She was a walking burst of color. Her patchwork denim jeans were covered in hand-sewn floral patterns, her lime-green tank top layered over a long-sleeved baby tee, and her hair was adorned with barrette clips in the shape of stars and hearts. The contrast between her aesthetic and the neutral, coastal tones of the OBX locals was stark. She stuck out like a sore thumb—and she didn’t care.

And Rafe Cameron loved her for it.

From his perch on the porch steps of Tannyhill, Rafe’s blue eyes tracked her approach, his lips quirking into a soft, almost amused smile. He watched as she practically skipped up the gravel driveway, clutching her tote bag like it held treasure.

“Rafey!” she called out, her voice a melodic lilt that never failed to make his chest ache in the best way. “Guess what I found!”

He chuckled, standing up and brushing off his khaki shorts. “What, another one of those creepy little baby dolls?”

She gasped in mock outrage, clutching her heart. “They’re not creepy! They’re little angels, and they’re adorable. Look!” She yanked the two figurines from her bag and held them up like prized possessions. One was dressed as a strawberry, the other as a little chef.

Rafe leaned down, squinting at the tiny figures in her hands. “Yeah, adorable is one way to put it,” he teased, but his grin betrayed his words.

“Don’t be mean,” she said, poking his chest lightly. Her rings sparkled in the sunlight as she did so. “You just don’t understand their charm.”

“I don’t,” he admitted with a shrug, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. “But I understand you, and that’s enough for me.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she buried her face in his chest. “You’re such a sap sometimes.”

“Only for you.”

The two of them stood like that for a moment, swaying slightly in the breeze. The Cameron estate was quiet; Ward and Rose were off on one of their trips, and Sarah was, well, doing whatever Sarah did these days. It left Rafe and Y/N in a little bubble of their own, untouched by the world’s judgments.

“You wanna help me make something?” Y/N asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

“Make what?”

“A bracelet!” She stepped out of his arms, already rummaging through her bag. “I got these new beads, and I think they’d look great with your eyes.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You wanna make me a bracelet?”

“Why not?” she said, grinning. “It’s not like you’re gonna wear it in public or anything. Unless…” Her grin turned mischievous.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, though his tone was light.

She giggled, plopping down on the porch steps and spreading her supplies out like an artist preparing her canvas. Rafe followed, sitting beside her and watching as her nimble fingers worked to thread beads onto a piece of elastic.

“Why do you do this?” he asked after a while, his voice soft.

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured to her array of beads, figurines, and tiny tools. “All of it. The bright clothes, the crafts… you’re not exactly like anyone else around here.”

She paused, looking up at him with a small smile. “Because it makes me happy,” she said simply. “I like colours. I like making things. It’s who I am.”

Rafe nodded, taking her answer in stride. He’d always admired her confidence in being herself, even when people whispered about her behind her back or shot her strange looks in town. It was a level of self-assuredness he wasn’t sure he’d ever reach.

“You know,” she said after a moment, stringing a star-shaped bead onto the bracelet, “a lot of people think it’s weird that we’re together.”

“They’re idiots.”

She laughed, a light, airy sound that made his heart swell. “I know that. But still… you’re Rafe Cameron. People expect you to date, like, the cheerleader type. Not someone who spends their weekends thrifting for doll clothes.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing against the plastic barrette clipped in her hair. “Let them think what they want,” he said firmly. “You make me happy. That’s all that matters.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re too good to me, Rafe Cameron.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with a smirk, though the teasing edge in his voice was softened by the way he gazed at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

She finished the bracelet a few minutes later, tying it off and holding it up for inspection. It was a mix of blue and white beads, with a single star charm in the center. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he said, letting her slide it onto his wrist. The contrast between the delicate bracelet and his rugged, calloused hands was almost laughable, but he wore it with pride.

“You look so cute,” she cooed, taking his hand in hers to admire her handiwork.

“Don’t push it,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting to the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. “You know, I used to think no one would ever get me,” she admitted quietly. “Like, really get me.”

Rafe turned his head to look at her, his expression softening. “I get you,” he said simply.

She smiled, tilting her head up to kiss him softly. “Yeah,” she whispered against his lips. “You do.”

The world around them seemed to fade away as they sat together on the porch steps, wrapped in their own little universe. It didn’t matter what the rest of the Outer Banks thought of them. They had each other, and that was more than enough.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt like he could be himself. And for Y/N, that was the greatest gift of all.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so cute and so much fun to write !! i LOVE weird girl!reader soooo much and this was just the CUTEST🥹 i really hope this was what you wanted 🍮🍒 anon and i hope i got the aesthetics correct :) as always, please like and reblog as it means the WORLD to me <333

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #outer banks #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#fluff #obx #rafe cameron x reader #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x weird!reader #juminocore #heisei retro

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unluckilyimnot · 4 months ago

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his voice soften when he talks to you - sae (bllk), rayne (mashle), levi (snk), kinich, al haitham (genshin)

m.list | rules

Sae, even though he hates it, has to spend a scandalous amount of time with a ton of people for his career. He's always asked everywhere, he's probably the definition of busy if you ask his manager, but also the most idgaf person he's ever seen. That until you're in the room, and you need something – anything, that he can figure out for you or help you with. His manager never gets used to the way his voice softens, calling out your name like it's coated with honey, asking you if you need anything or if you're okay. It's subtle, not a lot would notice, but if you got the chance to talk with Sae more than once, you'll notice it. It's caring, gentle, sometimes in the rush to make sure you're fine, but always with gentle eyes following your silhouette or shadow around.

Rayne can appear a lot less caring than he actually is, even regarding his own brother if you don't know them enough. He's serious, seeking the best for himself, not there to make friends. And yet those who get the chance to meet him at the same time as you do are surprised to hear how he talks to you. It's informal, there's some kind of fondness in his voice that nobody else gets to feel for themselves. If you ask them, they'll probably tell you don't even seem to notice when everybody else does by the way you never seem frustrated. But how could you when that's your norm with him ? His voice is so sweet when he tells you to be careful with your power, pushing a stand of hair for your face. Or even when he assures you he'll make time to help you study. To you, he's the sweetest person who ever stepped on earth.

Levi rarely shows any sign of affection ever, to anyone, even his closest friends. You just have to know he appreciates you to not get offended, or really notice how his voice changes – and he doesn't appreciate a lot of people. So maybe you never noticed how his voice is less harsh with you, how his words yearn a bit after he finishes his sentences, how his eyes look at you for a second too long ; but Hange never misses it. The way you don't seem to pay it any mind, even the way it doesn't seem to affect him even if he'll always call your name a little sweeter than any other. Hange never even imagined mentioning it, but they'll for sure keep a close eye on it.

Kinich can be a little straightforward but that doesn't mean he's mean or arsh – at least that's never what he has in mind, that's what Mualani concluded. Even with all of that, she couldn't help but giggles at the way his voice softens when he talks to you. He never raises his voice but also puts a lot more life into it, lingering with his words and his eyes instinctively searching for your approval or at least an answer. He never screams when he calls your name, even when he's worried or even scared for your safety. His lips move upward into a small smile every time he gets to talk to you and she definitely hopes you noticed how the man fell for you.

It's not only in the way Al Haitham talks to you that makes people notices the proximity, but mostly the time he can take off for you. He can be really busy, or it can be outside his work hours and yet he's always there to answer or help you, cutting what he's doing to do so with the softest voice his co-worker ever heard from him. He won't roll his eyes, raise his voice or sigh during the conversation, never. He'll always make sure that you leave with everything you need in hands and mind, so he'll take some extra time, explaining you softly, with gentle gestures, careful as if he was around a bird.

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thewitchblue · 4 months ago

Text

"Get your hands off that, Richard John Grayson!"

You stole your potion back while swatting his curious hand away. You sternly say,

"This will liquefy your bones. What if you tripped?"

You were about to continue your worried rant, but Dick cringed at the words liquefied bones. You decided he's had enough of a punishment. He'll forever be cursed with the knowledge you can liquefy bones.

You sighed. You had not anticipated Tim's siblings to be so... grabby, so to speak. They don't leave anything magical alone. Jason has been caught reading a "spell book" (he didn't know it was a baking book with cute Halloween themed baked goods, but you kept that knowledge between the two of you), Dick has tampered with your potions, Damian had read all your dark witchcraft books, even Cass has meddled by touching your hex powder. Tim is the only good one, as expected.

"Can't you leave my potions alone? Do you not remember what happened last time? You had to live with backwards joints for a week while I made a remedy."

Dick rubbed his elbows subconsciously. How could he forget? He had to learn how to fight like a contortionist instead of an acrobat.

You sighed. The wedding is in a couple of hours, but you've been running everywhere trying to control Bruce's borderline feral children for months now.

"Tt. Remember when Todd tripped and became a pile of glitter?"

You frowned at Damian. Jason has been a lot better since then. He's still covered in glitter six months later. You noticed an empty beaker to Damian's left and immediately asked in a warning tone,

"Damian, what did you drink?"

He was holding his hands behind his back too innocently. You narrowed your eyes at him. He retained his innocent act by saying,

"Nothing. Why do you ask, ummi?"

You raised your eyebrows at him. Yeah, right. His legs are starting to fuse together.

"I don't know, maybe because your legs are turning reptilian."

Damian, now caught, began to beg,

"Ummi, help me. I don't want to miss the wedding."

You almost laughed as you walked to your bookcase and pulled out the right spell book. You looked at Damian and then at his now merged legs. You grimaced as you said,

"Anguis mutationem."

Damian hissed in pain as his legs split in two again. You winced. The bones had fused then. They were cracked in half like a christmas cracker. You said sternly,

"Nobody is allowed in the magic room until they can prove they can be responsible."

You ushered them all out of the room as you put up spells. Nobody is allowed in except Jason and Tim, as they are the only two to respect magic. Not even Bruce is allowed in.

Once satisfied with your wards and spells, you left the room. You need to get ready with your girls.

You had no idea why Bruce insisted on a normal wedding, but you humoured him. You allowed the girls to fuss over you like the wedding means something more than a lavish party. You left Bruce to do all the planning, who then left it all to Alfred, who handed it right back to Bruce with a fatherly glare, so then Bruce pawned it off to the girls, who then pawned it off to Dick because he's the oldest. Steph said with a grin,

"You're so beautiful."

You sighed. You look like a swan, in your opinion. You told Tim to order you whatever because you didn't care. In your eyes, you and Bruce are already married, so why bother with a wedding? You both signed the contract to merge your souls together.

Maybe that is why you don't care. Bruce's soul is moody and broods more than speaks. Like a broody hen trying to awkwardly engulf your own soul in the weirdest hug ever. His very essence was nestled alongside yours.

Tim also didn't care. He knew getting you to care about the wedding would be like giving a feral cat a bath: it just won't happen. You cared for Bruce, deeply at that, but you can't care about silly traditions like weddings.

"Can I at least set up runes to keep out criminals?"

You had asked Bruce the night prior. He countered with raised eyebrows,

"You can do that?"

You nodded like that wasn't a game changer for Gotham as a whole. Maybe you could reverse some of the curses on Gotham.

"Yeah, of course. Runes are picky when it comes to interpreting what does and doesn't count, but I can easily do that."

Tim wanted to help, to your delight. He made sure all the runes were correct as you set them down. He was even double-checking the designs in the book to you and reading the runes as you placed them. You taught him basic witchcraft as a kid, but he shined when it came to runes. It's like learning a language, and you helped him become fluent.

Within the hour, you had placed a long list of runes all over where the guests will be and around the alter currently set up.

Now you're here in all your swan glory. Everybody already walked down the aisle, but you, and suddenly you were anxious. Your runes covered everything, and your wards protected every innocent bystander from harms way. Why were you nervous?

"Are you well, my dear?"

Alfred asked at your side. You weren't, but you nodded. You hesitated but slowly walked down the aisle.

You acted almost as if you were trying to approach a cornered animal with every tentative step forward.

The entire family looked wonderful together, despite none of them looking uniformed. Nothing looked like it matched, but you loved the chaos of everything.

If you didn't know better, you'd think the wedding was circus themed with all the bright saturated colours and the cake Dick insisted on designing after Jason baked the tiers.

Jason, at the time, sighed heavily but allowed it and immediately regretted the decision when the clown sprinkles came out from behind Dick's back. Dick thought he did a pretty good job, but Jason winced when he saw it. Bruce would have been furious if it hadn't surprisingly fit.

Damian set up the decorations, and it showed. Everything was set up in a way that nothing could be used as a weapon, and there was nowhere to hide. When questioned by Bruce about the odd arrangement, Damian had said he would be the only weapon allowed. Bruce didn't bother questioning him further.

Bruce's colleagues showed up to the wedding in civilian clothes as well. Clark and Diana were ecstatic to see Bruce find love despite his loner nature.

Oliver was surprised Bruce would ever marry someone, especially a civilian. What else is the Bat hiding from him? That you're a witch? Ha! Bruce hates magic. He would never date, let alone marry a witch.

Diana fell in love with you immediately and told Bruce to marry you before she does. Bruce, evidently, took that as a threat and married you magically that night.

Martian Manhunter is the only one who knows about your witch background, and that's solely because he accidentally read your mind when he met you. He knew Bruce had the tendency to chase after women who were generally unobtainable, so it was unsurprising to him.

Hal was the last to know about a wedding happening. He has no idea Bruce was even in a relationship. Who is crazy enough to marry Batman? The stoic Batman revealed nothing.

Clark was the one to let it slip, and Bruce gave him the silent treatment for weeks. Bruce even hid his heartbeat from Clark, which caused a panicked Superman to go on a hunt for the stealthy Knight. How does he do that? WHY does he do that? He knows Clark will panic. He knows Clark likes listening to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive and relatively safe.

"The League can leave my relationship alone."

Bruce had grumbled as they pestered him. He was reluctant to invite them to the wedding at all. He had hoped they would leave him alone, and Diana would stop threatening him if he brought you to the watch tower. He was wrong. He was forced into inviting them all. With a combination of Tim and the League pestering him to marry you, he conceded to pushing the wedding along faster than he would have liked.

Tim was about to cry when he saw you walking down the aisle. You are his mother, and he was so happy to see you permanently join the family.

You smiled fondly at your family. You raised Tim, but you felt like you became their mum, too. Who knew you'd become a mother of eight?

#batmom #bruce wayne x reader #fem!reader #batfam x reader #witch reader

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kiss-me-muchoo · 6 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬

part one: here || part two: something real

summary_ having an affair with General Acacius overseas while conquering lands turned into a problem after coming back to Rome, when you fell for a gladiator that turned out to be a missing prince.

warnings_ CRINGE, girthy age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, violence, gore, animal death, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. NO PROOFREAD, BEWARE!

note_ I can’t remember which year the movie is set in, I can’t remember many things but let me know if I fucked up too much. And listen to fallen fruit from Lorde while reading.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist

♫ ♪ Paul playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sea was a free land. Nobody could conquer it because there wasn’t anything valuable floating around. Perhaps at the bottom of the ocean, a treasure may lay, but no man had shown the desire to dive into the deep.

The screams of the innocents are loud enough to make you feel empathy for them. But Acacius had trained you to put a mask of neutrality when leading war.

Loving the most effective soldier of Rome was your little secret. He married the daughter of an old emperor and he fought to get her privileges and prevent her from danger.

Always the insane little girl running around the palace, rambling about plants, the stars, a dream of Rome in flames. It was enough to be secretly sent to a scribe's university in Egypt for some time.

Upon your return, not much had changed, only that your father, once lead of the council, then the wise of Rome had died. Consequently, your evil stepbrothers were crowned emperors. They named you a soldier and made sure you were at every battlefront, hoping for your death.

But your general trained you well, and with months of practice, you ended up tangled up with him on his sheets in Greece.

Adultery was considered a crime in Rome and you’d give the perfect reason to your brothers to burn you like a witch. Or worse, to send you to fight at the arena of the Colosseum.

But the people who accompanied you and Acacius overseas were loyal and couldn’t care less if you had an older man fucking you each night. They only cared about you being a good soldier on the battlefront and being a good princess in Rome.

With a couple of hours left to be home again, you had your wounds checked. Conquering Numidia was one of the last African cities to be marked by the Romans and your brothers desperately wanted to own it. Only a few burns scattered across your leg and your shoulder needed stitches were the price to pay.

The wooden floor creaked and the general turned around alert but as soon as he saw you, he seemed to calm down.

Your arms wrapped around him and he immediately had to lean and kiss you. His lips tasted like devotion, peace, and lust. Acacius always grabbed your hips first. Then he moved to your waist, only to end up caressing your cheeks as his lips kept marking you his.

“What did the doctor say?” asked Acacius as he gasped for air.

“Nothing to worry about…” You nodded at him and he turned his back to you again, looking at his open windows, to the sea.

“What about yours? How is the scar on your nose?”

“It’s fine. Could’ve been worse” You walked towards him, sensing he had bathed like you as well, his hair looked perfectly curly and you couldn’t help but smile.

You could stay looking at the horizon forever, just because he was by your side. The sound of the waves calmed your mind after another day of calamities brought by war.

“For those who chose the sea, greatness waits at the end of the rainbow,” you said smiley. But the general remained stood silent.

“Those are ludicrous tells, the truth is that even war has infected the sea as well.”

“Because we chose to fight, then yes, the sea is also an arena. But if we chose not to, the way will not depict war” his eyes kept looking at you, completely fixated and even threatening, like Acacius was trying to understand how much you were judging him.

“We do this because we don’t have any other choice, princess y/n,” Acacius said, finally turning to look at you.

“We could run away, to the south, the islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea are empty, nobody wants to live there” your voice trembling, nervous and waiting for his response. He stared at nothing, probably thinking. And that made you uneasy.

“I can’t leave Rome, I have to go back to…” he said coldly.

“Your wife….Right”

Silence. Even the sea seized the sound of the waves.

“Haven’t you told her?”

“What’s there to be told? I said this was only a thing of passion and lust” You bit your tongue at his harsh words.

“Was it? Would you say that all those nights you shared your past with me meant nothing, Marcus?”

There it was. His most personal name, that one nobody used. The general got closer to you, paying attention to your face. Princesses did not have scars, but you did. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn’t. You noticed how his fingers were about to trace the pink scar on your chin but he moved away.

“I was drunk most of the nights, doping the pain” Finally your eyes crystallized.

“Do you love Lucilla, General?” His steps stopped then turned around to face you one last time.

His eyes looked doubtful but soon landed on his feet.

“… I do love her” you nodded, holding the tears and bursting out of his room in anger.

“Of course you do”

Your disappointment was so evident that Acacius was able to look at your face reddening and tears falling freely. He could only sigh and go back to pack his things and get ready to arrive in Rome again.

If only you knew…

…

The crowds of Rome couldn’t stop screaming your name. It was “PRINCESS Y/N!” and “ACACIUS!” everywhere.

You were no hero, you just wanted a peaceful life in a free Rome with the man you loved. And you can feel his hand brushing yours while his left salutes the parade of people chanting both of your names. The truth is you have no purpose but to serve your brothers and pretend that is your life.

The twins always hated you. Their mother was a wealthy woman but yours was the emperor’s true love. The twins used to pull your hair and always picked poisonous berries to give you as a meal while being toddlers. It got worse as everyone noticed you were your father’s favorite. And with him gone, you were utterly alone in the world.

Your clumsy steps made you arrive later. There was no crown for you waiting like it had been for Acacius. Geta and Caracalla were talking to him. And when you noticed the sword in the general’s neck, your face went serious.

“Do not forget the privileges we’ve made for your wife” you heard Geta saying.

“Same benefits we’re making for your whores, frater” The twins turned to look at you, quickly releasing Acacius and going straight to you. Their golden armors were a mere matter of display. They could barely wield a sword. They were bad with the bow and arrow and their reflections were poor too. They were good with numbers and shapes, but that wasn’t much in the city they shaped. One full of segregation and violence.

“Dear, soror… you’re back…” you think Geta gets closer to hug you, but his hand has raised and he gives you a sharp slap across the cheek.

“Dazzling and with such a big mouth as always” he added while you looked down, your cold hand against the reddening skin and sending him the worst look you had.

“Leave the princess alone, emperor. We should be focusing on the games ahead. We brought many slaves that some of them could fit as gladiators” Acacius said, looking affectionately at you, with disguise.

Caracalla only laughs in your face and his monkey reaches you for some seconds, but your brother pulls him away quickly. You wonder how far his disease has spread. Before leaving Rome, he was completely against seeing a doctor.

“Acacius is right, Geta. Let’s focus on the games” the twins agreed but sure, they had to humiliate you one last time.

“Alright then. But the next time I see you, dear y/n… I don’t want to see your hair down freely. You look like a whore and not the princess of Rome” he whispered loud enough to make everyone hear. But finally, the twins were gone.

“Are you alright?” The general asked but you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t need your help, Acacius. I’ve dealt with Geta and Caracalla since the day I was born. Which was before we met you” he sighed, understanding you were still mad from your last conversation. He appreciated your free hair, long and healthy despite the fires you went through while in combat.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. It’s enough they sent you to serve in the war when you should be here, safe from the horrors”

“Go home to your wife, Acacius. Your dinner will be cold…” you spit out with a bitter tone before walking away, disappearing through the walls of the palace.

…

Standing naked, dripping, and waiting for servants to dry you up, you stare at the dress hanging in your room. It had been months since you wore a dress, used to armor and tight braids, and the sensation of the fabric felt odd.

As a kid, you wished to befriend your servants, but they remained professional and apologetically brushed away your questions. Which made you feel even more lonely while they dressed you up; placing gold jewelry and rings with quartz, spraying perfume, and cleaning your teeth. Geta and Caracalla always stole the sweets from you as kids, you thanked them because instead, it was Caracalla who ended up with a decayed tooth and a gold one as a replacement.

“You’re ready, princess,” said one of the servants and you smiled at her as a thank you.

The whole time while you and your brothers awaited to arrive at the Colosseum, you ignored them. You sneaked away as soon as you arrived. Knowing the place like the palm of your hand, you took a secret passage, in hopes to go and tend your horse to delay the entertainment as long as you could.

Gladiator fights were of no interest to you. But the people loved it. Their ignorance made you understand why they hadn’t tried to throw your brothers from the thrones.

But being months away made you forgetful of the architecture of the Colosseum, forgetful enough to end up in the cells of gladiators. Looking perplexed, you gulped nervously. There were indeed many slaves brought.

Being the only woman there made you the center of attention. Even worse when you looked exactly like a princess would do.

“Princess y/n, What are you doing here?” Asked one of the high-rank soldiers, running towards you.

“I wanted to tend my horse. It was brought here by accident” you replied, eyes wandering through the cells, noticing the people inside them were full of new people, probably from Numidia. You wonder if they recognized you.

Your eyes met the ocean-blue ones of a man, he certainly recognized you as he looked at you with anger. You gulped once again, looking away from him. But his gaze had been so strong that you didn’t hear a servant come running from the end of the hallway.

“A TIGER ESCAPED! A TIGER ESCAPED! CLOSE THE DOORS!” he screamed and soon everyone went into panic mode. You didn’t have enough time to process what he said and do anything. You stood there confused for some seconds. The violent roars of the animal could be heard closer. You looked around trying to find a weapon.

“Stay behind me, princess,” said the same soldier but you didn’t trust him so you went to grab a bow and arrow. The prisoners yelled and quickly you understood they were having a private show. They hated you for being Roman, and they thought they would see you dying.

But you wouldn’t give them that satisfaction as much as you sympathized with them.

The tiger appeared, big and imposing. The animal was angry, visibly distressed, and ready to attack.

You had killed men, but an animal was different. There was no exact description of what to do. Just pure instinct. So you try to calm yourself before the tiger spots you and the soldier, who are the only ones that remain vulnerable. The guards closed the entrances as protocol, unbeknownst that you were there. And it had been too late to use the secret passage.

You felt the same man’s eyes on you and indeed, he looked carefully at you, probably wondering what would be your next move.

“PRINCESS, STAY AWAY!” The soldier screamed when the tiger came running towards you two.

The tiger jumped and threw the soldier, roaring as it tried to kill him. So you ran away in hopes of aiming at the eye of the animal to gain time. Your hands shaking and you could feel your legs get tangled up in the fabric of your dress. But your nervousness isn’t visible as your hands work on getting ready for the arrow. You don’t have time to calculate, the tiger has already bitten the soldier’s fingers.

You hit it very near the eye and the animal roared even louder, in pain. That’s when you spotted the sword the soldier had left behind, where you threw yourself to, as the tiger had tried to attack you again. The man with blue eyes pushed the sword towards you from inside the cell and you didn’t even look to thank him, you only grabbed the weapon and rolled to the right before the animal could scratch your face and kill you.

You heard the soldier cry out in pain but you couldn’t help him. Thinking you could end the beast chasing you, you failed, sinking the sword in the ribs of the animal. You felt a deep scratch in your arm and you cried out. Anger quickly builds up as you know you had to get out of there before everyone at the coliseum found out. The tiger roared one last time and before it could throw you to the sandy ground you grabbed another arrow and directly pierced the eye of the animal. Blood starts pouring and before the tiger can try to bite and break your neck, your hands end up in its mouth.

The fangs were dangerously digging into your hands and more blood started coming. Scarlet droplets fell all over your face and you didn’t care. You screamed in pain and pulled all the strength in your body to put the pressure on your arms and hands. The men inside the cells cheered and made you even more angered. Until you had torn open the tiger’s mouth, breaking its jaw and killing the animal.

Breathe….

Pushing the dead animal aside, you sighed, resting on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before taking a long breath and standing up.

Every man inside each cell looked at you quietly. What’s there to say?

Five guards open the main entrance and look confused at the mess, then at you tending the heavily injured soldier.

“Bring a doctor,” you tell them and they nod without asking more questions. Only one comes to your side.

“The games are about to begin, princess. I must escort you back to where you should be” Trying to catch your breath, you nodded.

“Do not say a word about this mess” The guard only bowed his head in agreement.

The least you could do was to put some bandages around the bloody hand of the soldier. Then you cleaned yourself and noticed you were a mess.

Giving that soon-to-be gladiator one last look, you tried to thank him with your eyes for what he had done to help you. He understood, giving you a cold nod.

And as you walked towards the royal platea, you wondered if that was the slave your brothers mentioned. A poet…

“Oh heavens! What happened to you?” Asked Lucilla as soon as you tried to take a seat beside Geta. Then everyone turned to look at you in horror. You noticed Acacius looked worried and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the blood in your dress and bandaged arm.

“An accident” you replied politely at the woman, not in the mood to face the wife of your ex-lover.

“You look horrible,” said Caracalla.

“It won’t; happen again, frater” you tiredly answered, sinking onto the chair, ignoring Acacius’ eyes on you.

Soon you are surprised to see the gladiator who helped you in the arena. You don’t face him when he ends up winning and he looks at you. But you do notice Lucilla’s behavior and quickly you have connected the dots.

What an odd coincidence…

…

This time, you checked the animals first, then you made sure nobody had seen you entering the cells, but you went where the mysterious gladiator of blue eyes rested.

“Barbarian, monkey eater, slave, gladiator…. Prince of Rome, How may I call you? Hanno or Lucius?” Soon you had him inches away from your face. At that moment, you had time to appreciate his features. He was handsome and looked pretty much like he belonged to Roman royalty. But his gaze was fueled by anger and pain.

“What do you want?”

“I know Lucilla came before me. She had been waiting for you ever since I can remember” he looked at you with cold eyes and unbothered. But you knew he was curious about you too.

“What do you care? You’re the princess, you support all of this” his anger was palpable, it was part of his way of fighting you had noticed.

“Who did you lose?” You asked.

“My wife” he replied after a little silence, you nodded apologetically. He didn’t believe you.

“My father was a friend of your grandfather, part of the council. Now I realize that when he was elected emperor, he started hunting you down. I’m sorry”

“You don’t. You joined their cause and you fight proudly on the battlefront. I saw you…” you chuckle sarcastically.

“The twins you met the other day are my half-brothers. And they have tried to kill me since I was born. They sent me to war as punishment, but Acacius trained me well enough to survive each battle”

“So what? Should I pity you?”

“No, please don’t. But I don’t support any of this. I want to be a free woman and be with the man I love but I don’t think I’ll live enough to make it happen” he seemed interested in your words but pretended he wasn’t. Either way, you kept talking.

“You can’t kill Acacius. He’s leading a rebellion against my brothers” he stood quiet, trying to taste the lies in your words. But you seemed very truthful.

“Interesting that you want his head when all I’ve wanted is his heart” Through the cell his eyes sparkled and looked tentatively at you, for some seconds you got too attached to them.

“What about Macrinus?” The old man had been trying to gain your brother’s trust and you thought that was suspicious.

“Don’t trust him. Stop sharing any detail that could tell him what you want or fear”

“I don’t trust you either”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, a little smile unconsciously appearing on your face. And to your surprise, Lucius smiled too. There was something about you that he found lovely. You seemed honest, but he couldn’t trust you yet. So he cursed once you had left, you had him looking forward to meet you again.

…

Across the room runs a large table filled with food. A variety of fruits, bread, lamb, duck, pork, and lots of wine. Your hands float around the punch though, reminding you of the first time you tried Egyptian beer. You ended up drunk with Marcus Acacius, laughing on the sand and soon both ended up naked. You frown, trying to forget that messy night.

“You’ve been oddly quiet these past days,” said Lucilla appearing by your side, grabbing more fruits and placing them on her plate.

“I’ve been busy”

“Have you met Macrinus?” She said pointing in disguise at the man who laughs with some senators and your brothers.

“He’s been around for some time. But I don’t like him” you confessed.

“I’ve also met his poet gladiator” you added, opting to not look at her eyes because she responded very shocked.

“What?”

“He wants to kill Acacius for the death of his late wife, avenge his homeland, etcétera etcétera. I told him not to because we plan to free the city. You can’t proceed with the nonsense of taking him out of the Colosseum. Your son can’t be the alibi to start a revolution, Lucilla” you said whispering. She gasped in shock, wondering how you knew already. All while you carefully watched if any of your brothers or that nosy man were looking. Not even Acacius was looking.

You sigh, shrugging and looking at the woman.

“As soon as he came out wielding that sword in the arena, your face said everything. Then just by hearing his mysterious backstory. It was obvious, Lucilla” She didn’t say anything else, so you continued.

“I shall repeat myself once again. You won’t encourage Acacius to get your boy out of the Colosseum.”

“Why not?” you chuckled at the woman.

She was very pretty, sweet and caring. No wonder why the general loved her.

“You and your husband were lucky that I found out one of your maids heard everything and was about to spill it”

“What did you do, y/n?” She asked tired, thinking destiny was so meticulous and how you had ended up in such a position to hear and stop the maid before chaos unleashed.

“Let’s say I granted her eternal silence,” you said, Lucilla sighed, understanding. And before she could thank you, you spoke again.

“Wait till Lucius is in the arena to save him. And stop looping Acacius into this madness, you’ll make him get killed” She understood everything by the way your eyes looked at her. It shocked her, but she remained calm as you left to sit at the table. Only a woman in love spoke with a mix of venom and sweetness like that.

Taking a seat beside the General, he turned to look at you.

“What were you talking about there with Lucilla?” He asked in a very low but deep tone.

“Just gossiping about Senator Brutus and his new wife…” he knew you were lying but tried to act normal.

“Princess y/n… How true are those rumors about you breaking the jaw of a tiger?” asked a scribe, making you look away from Acacius, Lucilla returned to the table and your brother was already laughing at you for something you couldn’t hear.

“Well… it’s true, domine.” The table burst into laughter. Only the general and his wife remained silent.

“You did what?” Asked Acacius looking at you in horror.

“A princess shouldn’t be in combat” added Macrinus, making you set your eyes on him.

“Oh I am a princess but I’m also a soldier, domine. And I have to thank my brothers because they made me a woman capable of wielding more than one weapon by sending me to war” The twins stopped laughing. Geta sipped from his wine and returned to you.

“That’s true. While you were there getting battle scars, Caracalla and I focused on diplomacy, ensuring we gained more land” You want to laugh at his face. The council did that, not the twins.

“Did you ensure the poor were stable by cutting from the rich? Did you do the math to financially cover each branch Rome rules, Geta? Or did you and Caracalla just point at lands on a map to get like prizes?”

“y/n…” Acacius whispered your name, trying to make you stop. The tension has risen very quickly.

“You have one task, soror. To give us India. A woman shouldn’t even be speaking on the table” Caracalla said when you were about to stand up and burst out. Marcus grabbed your hand under the table.

And immediately calmed you down.

“I’m only saying you should wisely rule this great empire. Do not let it fall…”

Soon the chatting turned into drinking after the awkward moment. When most of the men were getting drunk you returned to the table, cautiously grabbing food again. When you looked up, you encountered the image of Acacius kissing Lucilla. And it made your blood boil.

In a thick piece of fabric, you placed bread, some fruits, cheeses, and a small piece of lamb.

“What are you doing?” you nearly screamed when you noticed Acacius standing by your side.

“I’m grabbing food”

“Isn’t it a little late to eat again?” He wasn’t judging you, he never would, but he was very curious.

You would start up a little fire after seeing the painful image of him kissing his wife.

“It’s not for me…” before he could ask you you sprinted away. His blood boiled too, his hand firmly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“What are you playing?” He asked.

“Playing? I’m definitely not”

“Is this some kind of punishment for what I told you days ago?” You sighed.

“I didn’t mean to say it was nothing. But… you have to wait, y/n” Acacius whispered and you chuckled.

“I’ve waited long enough to realize you will always be trapped in a marriage with two different kinds of love. And Lucilla will never love you like you want because her heart will always beat for that gladiator whose name was carved from the Colosseum”

You had raised your voice, Lucilla was looking at you two, and everyone else was drunk. So you violently flinched away from the man, who looked at you with a mix of pain and rage.

You leave and he immediately sends a guard to follow you in disguise.

“We must talk,” Lucilla said to Acacius, taking his hand.

He nodded.

…

What did that man have that made you feel safe? He didn’t protest when you walked inside his cell. He didn’t demand you to go away. He quietly lets you inside, talk, and explain yourself.

Two visits filled with food from your dinners were enough to let him know you had no intention of killing him. Your curiosity must’ve been too big, his eyes too attractive, and an odd vibration that warmed your chest.

To be honest, you had no idea why you came back to him. You just felt something. And you hated to admit it.

“If the emperors have made your life so difficult, Why didn’t you leave?” Lucius asked. He had eaten everything you gave him and was sitting beside you on the dirty floor.

“Every time I tried to escape, I couldn’t make it far enough. So I stayed and accepted my fate. To serve them will keep me alive ” he nodded, finally understanding why you hadn’t revealed yourself against the evil emperors.

“You didn’t come down here just to talk”

“I didn’t. I- I guess I just want to believe you’ll do something greater than I have always tried. Everyone talks about your rage but I think you quite act like a prospect hero… with honor” you revealed and wanted to cut your thong like you did with that old maid. You hated oversharing. But instead, Lucius chuckled and you frowned confused, expecting him to talk.

“You reminded me of my wife…”

“How so?”

“She said similar things to you” Most unexpectedly, you blushed. Thankfully the darkness of the cell made it unnoticeable.

“I’m trying to find a way to get you out of here before your mother does something rushed”

“I was very harsh with her”

“How couldn’t you? I would have behaved the same way. But she loves you and she doesn’t want to let you go just when she found you” Lucius smiled once again, making you remain still, unsure of what to do next. Soon you realized the sun was very close to coming up again.

How many hours had you spent talking with the rightful Prince of Rome?

“I must go, Geta and Caracalla will know I spent the night away,” you said standing up, trying to clean the mess your dress had become.

“Will I see you again before that revolution happens?” You smiled, walking back near him.

He was tall, you had to completely raise your head to face him.

“The final day of the games is closer. I’ll bring you more food and I’ll try to see what will the next encounters look like”

“Thank you. I judged you too fast…” he said and you chuckled.

“You still have time to change your mind”

You didn’t notice when he closed the distance. Just when his face had been inches away from yours, you gasped.

But neither of you two protested, your lips touched his at the same time.

Tasting the wine you brought him made you feel intoxicated. No intrusive thoughts appeared while you kissed him.

You could only taste his passion, his need to take control. But all his hidden softness too. One of his hand caressed with softness your cheek and the other grasped your neck.

“Stay safe, Lucius,” you said as you moved away from him.

…

The whole day was lost because you spent it sleeping. Only when you woke up for dinner, did you learn you had missed the games of the day. But Lucius was alive at least. You dreamt of his kiss but when you woke up you had an odd sensation in your stomach. Confusion filled you and then… ache.

As you brushed your hair, you got lost looking at a red candle. It had been a present from your father some years ago. A red candle to be lit whenever you felt like you needed to feel love, he had said.

The wise emperor had wished to see his daughter with her true love. Just like had always wanted but couldn’t.

There was a broad shadow that you spotted through the mirror. It made you pull out a silver knife and point a the figure.

Soon the cape was removed and you sighed but also gasped shocked to see Acacius standing in the middle of your room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked worriedly, standing up and hurrying to close your windows.

“You had spent all these past nights in the Colosseum,” he said, sounding a little angered.

“Now you’re spying on me, Acacius?” He sighed exasperated.

“What are you doing with that gladiator?”

“What do you care?” You asked with defiance.

“He’s going to get you in trouble, princess y/n” Your eyes pierced his, but you decided to move away, leaning against the towers of your bed.

“He deserves more. And not only him, but every slave we brought and all those we left in ruins” you admitted, looking at the fire of the candle.

“They do, but it’s not our duty, at least not yet. We need to focus on the plan we have…” you wanted to roll your eyes and yell at him, his wife could’ve ruined everything and he was only paying attention to you.

Only paying attention to you?

“Stop going to see that man”

“His name is Hanno and I’ll visit whenever I desire” you spit out with bitterness and you knew he was angry. Acacius clenched his jaw and sighed once again. Under his cape rested his armor, his hair messy, and his scars fading.

“Why? Because he makes you feel things?”

You remained quiet. As simple as it was, his question took you by surprise.

“I-… I don’t know. I had no reason to go back to him, but I did it anyway”

“Oh heavens, y/n. Don’t you see that I’ve always told you to wait? Because I’m counting every golden coin I have to give you that house on the island you always point at. To leave Rome with you…”

It took you on a curve. You didn’t know what to say, only the tears wanted to be present.

His hands found your hips and his lips seek yours. Sometimes, while being overseas, you two would argue. And the only cure was to be silent and kiss after a day of ignoring each other.

This time feels different. You feel so confused.

His forehead softly bumped yours and you two stayed like that for some time.

“If you had those ideas to fulfill with me. Why do you remain married, Marcus?” He smiled.

“That’s different, satis. I was set to marry when you were very young. I just can’t undo it.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only doing this because you feel pressured?”

“It’s not like that”

“Either way you wouldn’t tell me that you love me. So it’s in vane…”

“BUT I DO LOVE YOU!”

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. For a moment you thought you could only hear how your heartbeats slowly thumped. What you wanted to hear for years had been delivered. It felt good, even right to hear it. And when you were about to believe it, something clicked.

“No, Marcus. You just realized you hate the idea of me falling in love with someone else. Even worse when it’s the son of your wife”

Without the strength to say anything else, you moved away. Your feet quickly dragged you out of your room, and then out of the palace.

You walked through the streets of Rome, seeing all the hunger, poverty, the lack of love from the government.

By midnight you arrived at the shore. The warm sand cured your bolting mind.

There was an imminent battle coming up. You had a place in the rebellion. And yet you had to be only thinking in two men. Who had made a mess of you in a matter of days.

You had nothing with any of them. It was just the causality of what they made you feel. Only one had made you feel utterly in love once. A little boy that always carried for you as a kid. No tears, no pain, just that little boy being your other half.

But there was no little boy now.

Lucius made you feel like the woman you would’ve been if you had escaped Rome years ago.

Acacius made you feel adored like the woman you turned into wasn’t as bad as you thought. He believed in you.

But it wasn’t enough. None of them were enough. Your mind was spiraling and you realized you were sobbing in the middle of the dark. You can hear and faintly distinguish the sea. You had cracked, like the fallen fruit every poet and philosopher always mentioned.

And even when you knew you had to only focus on the war, you still didn’t know what to do. You barely knew the men that had you losing it.

_________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @willowpains @nicolebarnes

I don’t love the ending but I genuinely don’t know who should reader end up with. PLEASE SEND IDEAS!!

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #gladiator x reader #lucius verus x reader #lucius verus #paul mescal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius

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cinnxmxngxrl · 7 days ago

Text

“Nude”

Harry Da Souza x f!Reader

Harry’s Masterlist here

Summary: You start to notice your husband drifting away. One lonely night, you send him a spicy photo to remind him of what he’s missing.

WC: 4.2k

Warnings/tags: smut, minors DNI, dirty talk, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f!receiving), creampie, established relationship, reader is Harry’s wife.

A/N: This one goes to this person who asked me to write about Harry, I finally did it. (I hope it’s not a disappointment).

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Being married to Harry wasn’t the easiest thing on the planet. But you loved that man more than life itself.

Sure, you knew it before marrying him. Knew about his lack of availability. About the long nights where God only knew where he was. About the ambiguity of his job—one he never wanted to discuss, always saying it was better to keep you “on the line.” But you weren’t stupid. You’d seen the dried blood under his nails more than once.

And yet you married him, because even with all his flaws as a husband, he was the only man you’d ever loved. Because nobody had ever made you feel like he did.

Some nights, when it got too late, you couldn’t help but worry. You’d sit there, every muscle tense, checking the clock like it held some secret. The minutes ticked by, slow and sharp, each one slicing a little deeper. You’d imagine headlines. Accidents. Sirens. Or worse—just silence. Permanent silence.

And some nights, you couldn’t help but wonder if his job was just an excuse. Your mind went darker, quieter. It whispered things you didn’t want to believe. That maybe he wasn’t staying away because of danger. Maybe he was staying away because he didn’t want to come home. Because someone else—someone new—had captured his attention.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The rain hammered against the windows of the penthouse like it had something to prove. You sat curled up on the edge of the leather couch, knees tucked beneath you, your eyes fixed on the clock.

9:47 PM.

He was late. Again.

The candles you lit hours ago had burned low, their wax puddled into soft amber pools. The meal you cooked—his favorite, because you were trying—sat untouched on the table, cold. You’d taken the time to look pretty, to wear that silk camisole he once said drove him crazy. But now it felt foolish. Like you were playing house alone.

A sound at the door.

Keys. The heavy metal click of the deadbolt. You stood slowly, arms crossing over your chest, your heart pounding in a rhythm you couldn’t control.

Harry stepped inside. Black coat soaked. Jaw set like stone. His dark eyes scanned the room until they found you.

You didn’t move.

“Hi, love,” he said, like that word could fix everything. “Babe?”

“You’re late,” you replied softly. Controlled. Careful.

He closed the door behind him and shrugged off his coat. Rain dripped onto the floor. “Jesus, babe. Good night to you too, how have you been?”

“You’re late” you repeated.

“I know. I’m sorry, alright? Work ran over. You know how it is, don’t you?”

“You say that every night.” You met his eyes, refusing to break first. “Is that really where you’ve been, Harry?”

He blinked, slowly. A small shift in his stance. Guilt? Anger? Defense? You couldn’t tell.

“Of course it is,” he said. “Where else d’you think I’d be?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? I never know where you are, what you’re doing… or who you’re with.”

He exhaled hard. “Alright, I reckon I know where this is going. This isn’t about work, is it?” He narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m steppin’ out on you.”

Your throat burned. “I don’t know, Harry. You tell me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, stepped forward, voice low and rough with something dangerous. “You think I’d fuck someone else behind your back?”

“I think you’re not here,” you whispered. “And that leaves space for a lot of doubt, Harry.”

Harry crossed the room in two strides and took your face in his hands—not rough, not hard, but with a desperation that made your knees weak. The way he gripped your jaw wasn’t about power. It was about fear. Fear that he was losing you. That you were slipping through his fingers.

“You listen to me, babe, yeah?” he said, his voice shaking. ““I’m out there doin’ shit I don’t even wanna talk about. But I do it for you. For us. I ain’t out messin’ about. I’m not even lookin’. I come home to you. I want you. Every second. Even when I’m not here. Especially then.”

You blinked back the tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing hard. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling like he’d been running. But he hadn’t been running from work. He’d been running from this. From you. From what he knew you’d say the minute he walked through the door.

“Cause I’ve been a right shit husband lately,” he muttered. “But not a cheating one. Never have. Never will. I love you. I love you, babe. You think I’d ever let another woman in when I already have the only one I need?”

“You know you can talk to me, Harry. About anything.”

“I know, yeah?” he said. “I know. But I swear on everything—there’s no one else. Never has been. Never will be. I don’t give a toss about anyone else. I don’t even see ’em. Don’t want ’em.”

He shifted closer, hand resting on your thigh. The heat of his palm through the silk made you shiver. Not because you were cold. But because, for the first time in a long time, he felt real. Tangible. Like maybe he still wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

“I’m your husband.”

“That stopped meaning something when I started sleeping alone five nights a week.”

You lay across the bed in nothing but a thin lace bra and matching black underwear, one leg bent lazily, the other stretched long against the sheets. A low storm rumbled outside—soft thunder somewhere in the distance, just enough to make the windows whisper. But inside, the air was hotter than it had any right to be.

Harry had been gone since morning. No call. No message. No clue when he’d walk back through the door.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the flicker of the bedside lamp. You looked like a dream. Like a sin. The kind of woman a man could ruin his whole life for.

It was pointless to wear such sexy lingerie when your husband wasn’t home to see it. It had been pointless for a long time. Lately with Harry, it was mostly rushed quickies in the shower before he left in the morning. Not long nights of worshipping your body. Not the kind of nights where he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

You missed how it used to be. How he’d strip you slow, kiss every inch like it mattered. How he’d growl when you pulled his hair, how he’d fuck you like the world might end in the next five minutes. You missed that version of him—the raw, greedy version.

You reached for your phone. Fingers trailing over your chest, arms pressed in to lift your breasts beneath the lace, squeezing them together. The cups lifted your breasts just enough that they swelled between your arms as you pressed them together, one nipple peeking out beneath, pushing them up, making them look even fuller—exactly how he liked.

You lifted your phone, aimed the camera, and snapped a photo.

You typed:

Maybe I should find someone who appreciates this.

And sent it.

It was a blunt lie. You didn’t want anyone else. Not even close. But you wanted to provoke a reaction.

Delivered.

Read.

You stretched out on the bed, expecting silence. Maybe a flirty, disinterested message back in an hour, something like "Looking good, babe” or a thumbs up emoji. Maybe nothing until morning.

A few minutes later, you heard it. A sound from inside the house. The front door slammed hard. Not careless—furious. Controlled fury. The kind Harry rarely showed unless someone had pissed him off. And this time, it was you. You knew it. You wanted it.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Fast. Determined. The floor creaked under the weight of him.

Your body responded before your brain could. Legs shifting open slightly, preparing to give him the full view of your covered cunt as soon as he walked through the door. Nipples tightening beneath the lace. Your breath hitched, just from the sound of him coming closer.

The door opened with a sharp swing—and there he was.

Harry stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes black with fury and want. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, looking at you.

Like he didn’t know whether to fuck you or strangle you.

Rainwater clung to his hair, plastering it to his forehead. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked through, outlining every hard line of his body. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle ticking just beneath his skin. But his eyes—Christ, his eyes—were locked on your thighs, your breasts, your cunt, like he hadn’t eaten in days and you were the only meal he’d ever wanted.

“Feelin’ cheeky, are you?” he said, voice low and rough.

You arched a brow, stretching slowly like a cat. “Did you like it?”

He stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him with a heavy click.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” His voice was hoarse, dangerous. “What was the plan, then? Wind me up?”

“Maybe. Did it work?”

He stalked toward you and his hand was around your ankle before you could blink, dragging you down to the edge of the mattress in one hard, fluid motion. The contact sparked straight up your spine.

His grip was rough—almost punishing—but you could feel the tremble in it. He wasn’t just angry. He was desperate. Desperate to show you that he still had you. That no one else ever would.

His other hand curled around the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, yanking your mouth up to his. The kiss was all tongue and teeth and mine. Possessive. Furious.

“I was gonna be back in half an hour,” he muttered against your lips. “Saw that fuckin’ picture and I near wrecked the car. Seriously, babe, you can’t send shit like that—I might’ve run someone over just to get home faster.”

You gasped into him, arms sliding around his shoulders, fingers clawing into the soaked fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to remind you of what you had waiting for you at home.”

He leaned back enough to look you in the eye, his chest still rising and falling with ragged breath.

“Yeah?” His voice was ragged. “That why you’re lyin’ here like a fuckin’ pin-up? Legs open, lace on, sendin’ me shit that makes my head go blank?”

You smiled, slow and wicked. “It worked.”

He let out a low, dangerous laugh that made your stomach clench.

“Oh, it fuckin’ worked, alright.”

He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands curling around your calves, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs.

“You wanted my attention, love?” His voice was gravel. “You’ve got it. Every last second of it.”

He dragged you toward him, hard, until your ass was nearly off the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulders, his mouth close to where you needed him.

“You know what that photo said to me?” he asked, voice like smoke and grit.

You shook your head, barely able to breathe.

“Said, ‘Get your arse home before someone else does.’”

“Then it served its purpose,” you whispered.

His beard scraped along the soft inside of your thigh as he pressed open-mouthed kisses up your leg, each one wetter, hungrier, than the last. His lips burned paths into your skin. Your muscles tensed under every press of his mouth.

“You tellin’ me someone else deserves this?” he asked darkly. “These thighs. This mouth. This cunt?”

“No,” you gasped.

“That’s right.” He bit your inner thigh just hard enough to leave a mark. “Because it’s fuckin’ mine. Tell me what you wanted, babe, when you took that picture.”

“Your cock,” you said bluntly. You knew how much Harry loved it when you spoke like that.

He muttered curses, something like fuck me, Jesus.

“Turn off your phone, Harry.”

“Babe… babe, you know I can’t do that.”

“I’m serious, Harry. I want my husband. And I don’t want any interruptions.”

“Let’s be reasonable here, yeah?”

“I said turn off the fucking phone.”

“Alright, alright. On it,” he said, digging for the device in his pocket. Once he found it, he turned it off in front of you and tossed it aside without another word.

“The burner phone too”

“Jesus, woman.” he muttered, his hands rushing to turn it off too. He wasn’t thinking straight now. He was thinking with his cock.

For once, it was just the two of you. No job. No secrets. No interruptions.

He dragged his nose up along the seam of your underwear, inhaling deeply like the scent of your arousal alone was going to make him lose his mind.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered. “Knew you’d be soaked for me.”

You whined, lifting your hips toward him, needy and shameless.

He hooked two fingers under the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your legs, rough and impatient. The fabric snagged slightly at your heel, but he didn’t stop—he wanted them off, wanted nothing between you and his mouth.

“Look at that. That is the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen in my life, innit?”

And then he dove in. Tongue flat and wide, dragging up your soaked folds with a groan so guttural it sounded like it ripped straight from his chest, like it physically pained him to have gone this long without you. Your thighs tried to clamp shut around his head, but he forced them open again, holding you down like a man starved.

He ate you like you were his last meal. Messy. Desperate. Like he was trying to undo every second he’d been away from you. His mouth moved with skill but no mercy—circling your clit, then flicking it with the tip of his tongue until your back arched off the bed.

“Fuck—Harry—”

It had been a long time. Too long since Harry had eaten you out like this—since he’d taken his time with you, laid you out across the mattress like a feast he’d starved himself for. And now that he had you here, bare and spread and trembling beneath his mouth, he wasn’t going to waste a single second.

“You look proper fit like this,” he rasped. “Makin’ a mess on my fuckin’ face. Tastes so good, babe.”

He slid a finger into you—slow, then a second, the stretch making you moan out loud. The slick sounds of him fucking his fingers into you filled the room, obscene and wet, and he was smiling. Grinning like a man possessed. Like this was exactly what he needed to come back to life.

His tongue swirled and flicked, lapped and pressed, deliberate and greedy. His spit mixed with your arousal, running down to your ass in a glistening trail.

“Tell me you missed this,” he said, voice low and filthy.

You could barely breathe, let alone speak. But you nodded. “I did. I—I missed your mouth.”

Your legs started to shake. That knot in your belly—tightening with every stroke of his tongue, every curl of his fingers inside you—threatened to snap.

“Harry, I’m—oh my god—”

“Don’t hold back,” he said roughly, licking up every drop of you. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.”

He flattened his tongue and licked you from hole to clit, again and again, moaning against you like he needed it as badly as you did. When he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, your vision went white. He was curling his fingers expertly, finding that perfect spot that made your toes curl.

“That’s it,” he growled into your cunt, pulling away just long enough to spit on you and dive back in. “Give it to me. Cum on my fuckin’ face, babe. Show me how much you missed me.”

You came with a cry, loud and wild, clenching around his fingers while he licked you through it like he never wanted to stop tasting you. He groaned into you like he’d just won a fight. He didn’t pull away—he stayed buried between your legs, licking and sucking until your whole body went limp.

He pulled back finally, face slick with you, chest heaving.

“Good girl,” he growled through gritted teeth, voice rough and frayed with how close he was. “What a good girl you are—cumming for your husband like this…”

“Still think some other bloke could do that for you?” he asked darkly, voice shot to hell. “Still think some other cunt deserves what I just tasted?”

You shook your head, dazed and trembling.

“Didn’t think so,” he growled. “Now turn ‘round.”

You blinked up at him.

“Turn. The fuck. Around,” he repeated, unbuckling his belt with a slow, menacing clink of metal.

You rolled onto your stomach, body still quaking from your orgasm, and braced yourself on your elbows, you dragged your knees apart, arched your spine until your ass was up high in the air, flushed and glistening, shamelessly offered. Your elbows sunk into the mattress, spine dipped like a bowstring, cunt still fluttering from the aftershocks of his mouth. You gave yourself to him. Just like he wanted. Just like you needed.

You heard the sound of his zipper, the low curse under his breath when he freed himself from his jeans. And then the hot, heavy weight of his cock slap against your ass, against your thigh—thick, hard, leaking at the tip.

He gripped himself and dragged the blunt head through your soaked folds, spreading your slickness and his precum in messy, dripping trails. He circled your entrance with it, teasing, threatening, never pushing in. Just letting you feel how badly he wanted it.

“Beg me,” he said, voice like thunder.

You whimpered and pushed back, grinding against his cock like a bitch in heat. You’d never been so filthy, so desperate, so feral.

You pushed back against him. “Please. Harry.”

His palm cracked down against your ass in a sharp slap that made you yelp. Then again. And again. Not hard enough to hurt—just enough to make your whole body burn.

“Not good enough. Try again.”

You glanced back over your shoulder, eyes glassy, lips parted.

“Please fuck me, Harry. I need it. I need you. I need my husband.”

That was all it took. He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, forcing a gasp from your throat. You cried out—high and sharp—your hands clawing at the sheets as he filled you to the hilt. The stretch of him was overwhelming, so deep, so delicious. Your walls fluttered around him instantly. Every thrust a claim. Every stroke saying mine, mine, mine.

He grabbed your hips, fingers bruising into your skin, and started to fuck you hard—no teasing, no mercy.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room, the mattress rocking beneath you, your moans, his grunts, the wet sound of him filling you over and over—obscene, frantic, addictive.

You could hear how soaked you were, how loudly your cunt welcomed him, how hungry your body was for every inch he gave.

He leaned over you, one hand curling around your throat from behind, pulling your back to his chest. His cock never stopped, spearing into you again and again with bruising force.

“Say it,” he snarled into your ear. “Say who this cunt belongs to.”

“You,” you whimpered. “You, Harry—only you.”

He snarled and bit down on your shoulder, teeth sinking into your skin as his hips snapped forward harder, faster. Each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, shoved your body forward, sent heat coiling tight in your gut.

He was pounding into you with brutal efficiency now—each thrust a hammer blow, his cock splitting you open with obscene wet sounds, your slick coating his shaft, dripping down your thighs. He was so deep it felt like he was in your belly, hitting something deep inside you.

“You feel that?” he grunted, his voice strained and raw. “That’s what you do to me. Turn me into a fuckin’ animal.”

Then he slowed—just enough to make your breath catch. Dragged his cock out to the very tip before slamming back in so hard your vision went white. Over and over. Deep, punishing thrusts meant to be felt for days. You could hear your own pussy sucking him back in every time he pulled out. You were drenched, utterly soaked for him, and he knew it.

“You love this cock, don’t you?” he hissed into your ear. “Say it. Say how much you need me to fill you.”

“Yes,” you sobbed. “God, yes, Harry—please, please cum inside me. I want it so bad. I want to feel you leaking out of me, want to be so full I can’t think.”

Suddenly, he pulled out, dragging his cock from your soaking wet cunt, and before you could protest, he manhandled you onto your back. His hands were rough, desperate, needy. Like he couldn’t bear to be out of you for even a second.

“I want to see your face when I cum. I want to see the face of my beautiful wife when I fill her up.”

Your legs spread for him automatically, trembling and slick, and he grabbed them—threw them over his shoulders and sank back into you with a filthy groan.

The angle now was different—devastating. He hit deeper, harder, his pelvis grinding into your clit with every thrust. His cock curved perfectly against your sweet spot, coaxing a fresh gush of arousal from you every time.

Even if Harry was in his mid-forties, you never would’ve known it when he was buried inside you. He moved like a man half his age, full of energy and stamina when it came to you—driven, tireless, fucking you like he had something to prove. Like he needed to remind you, over and over, that no one else could do what he did to your body.

And the way he moved inside you? That wasn’t youth—it was the experience his age gave him. It was knowing exactly how to angle his hips to hit that perfect spot that made you cry out. Knowing how long to tease before giving you what you needed. How to read the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs started to tremble, the way your fingers fisted the sheets when you were close.

And that mix—the stamina of someone younger, paired with the slow, brutal finesse of someone who knew exactly what he was doing��it wrecked you every time. There was no doubt. You were his. And he was still in his prime. A man built to ruin you.

“Touch yourself,” he growled. “Rub that pretty clit for me, babe. I want to feel you cum while I’m still inside you.”

Your hand slipped between your bodies, two fingers finding that aching, swollen bundle of nerves. You barely had to touch it—just a few tight circles—and you were gone.

You came with a scream, your whole body locking up, cunt clenching and spasming around his cock like it never wanted to let him go. You felt your release gush out around him, soaking the sheets, the slick, messy squelch of your orgasm driving him right to the edge.

He cursed loudly, hips stuttering.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”

And then he slammed home one last time and spilled into you. hot, thick, endless. His cock twitching deep inside you, ropes of cum coating your walls. He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed there, cock still twitching, still seated inside you, as you both trembled and gasped for air. You could feel his cum dripping out already, warm and slow between your thighs, mixing with your own orgasm and soaking the sheets.

“It’s been so long since I’ve cum like that,” you said, voice hoarse, lips still parted from where he’d kissed you breathless.

You were sprawled beneath him, body flushed and slick, thighs still trembling from the intensity. Your chest rose and fell fast, skin sticky with sweat and sex. His weight lingered over you, one arm propped beside your head, the other resting possessively over your stomach, keeping you pinned, claimed.

He leaned down and kissed the hollow of your throat, slow and soft. You felt him sigh, the heat of his breath ghosting across your collarbone.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ve just… been so caught up in work. So fuckin’ distracted. And thinkin’ of another man gettin’ you—because I didn’t appreciate you enough—”

“Harry, it’s—”

“No. Wait.” He lifted his head, and the look in his eyes stopped you cold. “Let me finish.”

His hand slid from your belly to your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple almost absently, not in a filthy way, but as if he needed to be touching you while he said it. Something to anchor him.

“I don’t ever want anyone else seein’ you like that,” he said, voice thick. “Don’t want anyone else hearin’ you like that. Hearin’ how you sound when you cum. When you fall apart on my cock. That’s mine. It’s always been mine.”

You reached up and cupped his cheek. His scruff rasped against your palm, warm and damp with sweat. “No one else will,” you whispered. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

There was a pause, thick with everything unspoken—guilt, longing, relief. Then he dropped his forehead to yours and exhaled hard, like he’d been holding that tension for weeks.

“This was incredible , babe.” His voice cracked on it. “I—I really missed it. Missed us.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. Instead, you slid your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss—slow, messy, wet with the taste of everything you’d just poured into each other.

When you pulled away, he looked like a man wrecked. Wrecked in the best way.

“Me too,” you said. “You have no idea how much.”

He smirked—small, tired, but genuine. His hand slid down your thigh, gripping the soft flesh just behind your knee, still nestled between your legs. You could feel him softening inside you, but not pulling out yet. He didn’t want to. You could tell.

“Sundays, yeah?” he said. “They’re all yours. Full day. Anything you want. No work. No bullshit. Just us.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And coming from him—the man who hadn’t slowed down in months, who never stopped checking his phone, who never made promises he didn’t plan to keep—it was everything.

You raised a brow. “And your phone stays off the entire day.”

He grunted. Rolled his hips a little inside you, like he couldn’t help it. The movement made you whimper.

“I’ll put it on silent,” he bargained, nuzzling into your neck. “That’ll do?”

You sighed—exhausted, blissed out, full of him and still faintly aching for more. “Deal.”

And you both lay there, tangled in the wreckage of each other. Sundays were a start. A good one.

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics‬

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