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screampied · 1 month ago

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#THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY. g. suguru

☆ sum. the last thing you’d expect for a surprise birthday present by your friends was a visit to a men’s strip club. geto suguru—your dancer’s got it all. tall, handsome, and he wants waaay more than just thirty minutes with you.

wc. 6.9k (h.. haha)

warnings. fem! reader, stripper au, stripper! geto, unprotected, lap dancīng, dry humping, switch geto, lots of riding, 69, finishing too quick, choking, geto has nīpple piercings, hair pulling, spīt, dirty talk, he licks champagne off you, nīpple play, breedīng, praise, **** cameo :), petnames.

an. ty to the ppl who voted on my poll <3 kinda scared to post this LOL. this came on a whim ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

➤ kinktober mlist.

“i understand your body wants it. i know your thoughts, oh you ‘bout it ‘bout it . . ”

the erotic lyrics that blared through the club’s abject speakers nearly deafened your ears the moment you stepped inside. you were flashed with a plethora of luminescent jade lights as you read a glowing sign near the bar that read ‘welcome to the vixxxen lounge.’ your friends, who decided to surprise you for your birthday with nothing more than a girls’ trip to a men’s strip club told you they’d be getting drinks if you need them. of course . . that was probably code for: going to spend time near the private rooms.

apparently, it’s ‘happy hour’ which meant countless discounts—and you’d already had your two individual sessions paid for by one of your friends. crisp aerating air waves from the air conditioner chills against your skin as you lean against the bronzy brick pillar. you gather your surroundings, eyeing the oily attractive glossed men that entertained the screaming crowds of thirsty women. the wide stage was spacey, and it almost looked like a concert—you started to wonder just who you were paired up with. but right as you’re pondering deep in thought, there’s a light tap on your shoulder.

“miss.”

you turn around to face probably the most attractive man you’ve laid your eyes upon. he’s tall with lengthy long hair — tangled black tresses of strands that reach just about past his shoulders. you couldn’t help but openly gawk a bit . . finding your eyes to leisurely trail down toward his skimpy attire. near his neck, he had a stained smooch of a lip stick mark that was a dark shaded red. you then noticed a few hundred dollar bills stuck in between his red thin straps.

this guy, it appeared he was dressed as some kind of firefighter. he had on the helmet along with the matching baggy yellow pants, but was completely topless. the only thing that went against his chiseled pecs was the skinny straps that attached onto the belts of his pants.

“heyy,” he waves a hand in your face, arching a brow.

“o- oh, sorry,” you bashfully murmur, mentally cursing yourself out for wandering off into space again. embarrassing, embarrassing. fishing for your vip pass that gave you direct access to one of the secluded private rooms—you dig it out your pocket, staring down at the assigned dancer and room number. “are you uh . . geto?”

“i am. but ah, suguru’s fine,” he murmurs, and he takes your pass, putting the temperature lanyard over your neck. geto’s fingers brush against your skin and you nearly shudder.

his touch.. it felt like sparks of electricity, and near the far distance by the crowded stage, your friends waved at you. with a throaty, “follow me, birthday girl,” he swiftly turns his heels and starts making a beeline toward the back of the club. you follow him, continuing to eye his costume.

but phew, he had quite the ass.

but anyway—that’s not the point.

it never really occurred to you how all the male strippers had specific costumes—you were far too entranced by geto. it was probably because of how halloween was only a mere few weeks away, so it’d make sense how they’d be ordered to get into the spirit of things.

“and imma let you do it how you wanna girl i’ll riiiide with it, riiiide with it . . ”

the lyrics of that catchy same song that resounded through the speakers of the club grew louder—and as he guided you inside the dimly red lit room, he makes you lie back against a cushioned sofa. there’s a few piles of money scattered near the front, and you didn’t count but that amount could make anyone filthy rich.

geto rubs the back of his neck, rolling it around to stretch before he glances down at you. you struggle to look him in the eye and a faint smile creases across his lips.

you’re new, and he could tell you weren’t used to such carnal provocative environments.

“relaaax, pretty girl,” his voice was low purr. the way he talked was soothing, a good amount of teasing and playfulness. right at his words, your shoulders slumped and you lean back.

the air around you seems to close in, getting thicker ‘n thicker before he makes you haul your arms over the edges of the couch. “comfy?” and he doesn’t do anything else until you give him a subtle complying nod. geto takes off his amber-colored helmet before putting it on your head. “lean back. just focus on me.”

“o . . okay,” you exhale, and your eyes finally meet his.

the fake firefighter helmet crooks, tilting a bit to the side over the crown of your head as you watch him starting to sway to the bass dropping beats. you gulp as he gets closer . . and closer, following the exact steps to his usual routine before he gets on your lap.

he’s so pretty, and now that his helmet was off of him, you got an even more view of his face. geto starts to slowly grind against you, one hand resting near back of the couch that’s next to your shoulder. he’s fully in sync with the song that booming blares in the background.

the friction. he was moving up against you, and you couldn’t help but glance down his glossy chest. his legs were huge, and you didn’t even notice the clamped silver piercings that stuck against his reddened nipples. “is this okay?” he whispers, and you already feel yourself starting to heat up. the a/c was blasting—and yet, you felt like it was over a hundred degrees.

“ ‘s okay,” you breathlessly say, feeling your facial expressions serene. geto swiftly gets off you, and he starts to rock and grind his hips against the floor.

he’s slow and precise—each movement matches the following before he sits up, flicking against the straps of his costume. fuck, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. you knew he was probably used to this . . seeing so many women at a time, giving them a thirty minute private dance and going on with his day.

geto had charisma and lots lots of it.

it was ironic because he didn’t even have to say anything. throughout the duration of his entire routine, he let his hips do the rest of the talking. speaking of hips, you’ve never seen a more a slutty waist.

it’s unapologetically snatched, and you start to envision seeing his face plastered on every cover of a a men’s vogue magazine. he’s gorgeous—and the second he’s back in your lap again, he leans into the crook of your neck. “hey,” he repeats, and his voice was a lot more pitched and lower. it’s a dirty kind of husky that makes you clench your thighs together. as he’s up close—you get a whiff of his cologne. it’s quite loud, and you’d guess the scent was something between bergamot and rich aromatic oak moss. “do you wanna touch me?”

a breath gets trapped in the back of your clogged throat at the question.

geto continues to gradually grind his hips into you as pretty black strands of his hair tickles near your shoulders. “y- yes,” and the words smoothly flow from your lips like smooth molasses of chocolate.

geto was patient, and he wanted to make you comfortable—that was his number one priority.

he speaks in a more rough yet sly tone. “ ‘m gonna grab your wrists okay? just feel me,” and you feel mentally prepare yourself. biting down on your bottom lip—you mouth a soft, ‘okay,’ and geto gently grabs your wrists.

he’s still slowly jerking his hips against you, matching each sultry beat of the song. the base of the chorus rang through your ears and the lyrics flowed through once ear ‘n out the other.

as you stare up at him, he makes you press your hands firmly against his shaven flexing chest. sheets of slicking sweat that covers the top part of his body coats on your hands and you cutely furrow your brows. “heh, oh sorry love. ‘m a bit sweaty, hope that doesn’t turn you off.”

“it’s f . . fine,” you utter, and he resumes to guide your hands. his chest was as hard as a brick, and you felt how his muscles would freely tense.

god, geto was a literal sculpture. you probably looked stupid with how you kept openly staring at his perfectly carved abs. an entire six pack - each section even more strenuously ripped than the first.

as you continue to gawk, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets—you feel him shifting his weight a bit so he wouldn’t crush you. your thumb snags against his pierced nipple and he grunts, breaking character for a second. he lets off a cute snarl. “sorry! i didn’t-”

“sweetheart, it’s okay,” he hums, releasing a low puff of air. so he was sensitive there, noted.

as he continues, he makes your hands reach lower. the thin straps of his costume glide against your plump fingertips before he stops at his fading raven-colored happy trail.

black ‘n bushy . . you could make out every single tiny speck of hair that stuck against the lower part of his abdomen if you squinted, and you did.

the rest was hiding underneath the upper hem part of his prop turnout pants. “now ‘m gonna let go of my hands,” he whispers, eyeing you intently.

it was so much lustful ardor in the air. the more you stared at the dancer, the more you started questioning why the hell you never visited a strip club sooner. a question that was probably gonna remain unanswered..

“ . . ‘n ‘m gonna let you do whatever you want while i finish.” he concludes his sentence, and as if his hands were attached to your own with adhesive velcro, geto slowly pulls away.

now, it’s just your two balmy palms pressing against his chest. you take it upon yourself to drag an invisible line down his flat sleek cheek with your fingers.

your hands then find themselves reaching for a few papery fifty dollar bills, tossing it at his glossed grinding body. geto sighs with a cunning simper, continuing to rock his slim hips into your lap. “that’s it, feel me princess. ‘m all yours.”

and in a way – he was.

it was only you two in the room, and yet it felt like you ‘n suguru were the only people on earth. the entire mood was sensual and you could almost smell the libido that radiated off his skin. it was a scent you couldn’t describe—but you didn’t want him to stop.

as your hands kept roaming down his puffed out chest, you stop right at the hem of his pants. poking out, his sharp carved-like ‘v’ shaped pelvis arches within each muscle he moves forward.

the crimson red lights that flicker every three seconds narrowly spotlights toward geto’s fit body. for a quick moment—you get a good glimpse of his face and he’s inches away from your shimmery twitching lips.

geto leans up to your ear and he hoarsely whispers. “birthday girllll,” and he huffs out a drawn breath, feeling you eagerly tug at his pants. a snicker leaves from him before he gets a nice smell of your citrusy perfume. “ah. is the pants gettin’ on your nerves?”

“a bit,” you murmur honestly, and you were already undressing him with your eyes. you were sure geto was most likely wearing a thong underneath but you imagined otherwise.

filthy - you couldn’t believe the thoughts you were having.

to think, if you hadn’t accepted this little ‘girls’ trip’ with your friends, you’d probably be sleeping the entire day away. after all, they did want you to get out more. especially for your special day. with a pout twisting across each part of your lips, you sigh. “can i—”

“what, undress me?” he tries to play coy, seeing your pouty expression increase. geto hums, amused as you lightly hook a finger underneath his hooked strap before he shrugs. “go ‘head, princess. knock y’rself out.”

geto found your hesitance cute. you didn’t wanna seed ‘needy’ but you were showing all signs of it. at the moment, you completely forgot you were at a strip club and he was just a dancer.

but fuck it.

you went slow as he still straddles your lap, slowly pulling down his loosely fitted pants. they were baggy.. a flashy color of yellow, and the more you tugged them down, the more you got a glance at his scanty thong.

it’s dark purple with his name embedded on the thin white strips.

from all sides, it spelled ‘s u g u r u,’ in bold lilac plum colors. he even had custom made thongs? as if you couldn’t get even more aroused—

yeah, you were aroused. leave it to your legs that remained glued together starting to swelter up with … stickiness.

not everyday did you have a man grind against your lap, and to be fucking frank you didn’t think you’d last.

“you’re so pretty,” you pant, watching him shimmy his pants down to where it flops down to his ankles. and oh, he had quite the bulge.

it looked almost painful—so swole and round, you just wanted to kiss it. it looked like at any second it was about to just burst through the cottony stretched fabric. the scenery grows more hedonic as the red lights dimmer. you could barely see his face anymore, just a silhouette that grinds against your lap at each beat of the song playing loudly.

as you nearly slip out a moan, you lean back before your heaving breaths start to accelerate. “suguru.”

“aw,” he coos, feeling your arms wrap around his slender waist. geto’s still swiftly grinding into you, feeling your cute nails claw into his back. the back of your brain kept chanting ‘more, more, more!’

you still have the helmet on, and with the way it’s crooked and could barely fit your head—he found that small detail adorable. as he remained seated on your squished thighs, it was embarrassing to think you were starting to feel yourself erratically throb.

leaning into your neck, he could loudly smell your sheer arousal and it makes him lowly chuckle against the soft shell of your ear. “not satisfied, yeah?” and he lets off a quiet bellowing grunt, feeling your hands trail down his sweaty body once more.

he’s so built, parallel to a literal tank.

geto’s rocking against you in rhythm with the same song that still trumpets through the speakers before whispering. “just say it ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

“you always come to the parties. to pluck the feathers off allll the biiiirds. . ”

the lengthy song continued to drag on—and the busted speakers in the private room sounded like it was about to break from the distortion. it was loud, but your panting breaths was even louder the more geto dances on you.

letting off a longing three second moan once a leg of yours voluntarily hooks around his slim waist, you mewl out a sweet, “i want you. suguru, fuck me.”

“oh. sounds like a demand, sweetheart,” he purrs, and he stills his hips against your lap.

geto’s got a plethora of rings on each of his fingers. pretty silver ‘n gold bands that would wrap around his digits. he had long fingers, thin and perfectly slender.

the more you stared, the more you thought how good they’d fit insi—

“eyes up here,” he cuts you off, and you shudder feeling his palms cup your face. your leg still wraps around his waist before another shortly follows.

he’s barely rocking into you now, and with a bumpy shimmy, you feel his bulge rub against you. “mhm,” geto grunts before meeting your needy gaze once more. as a thumb strokes your bottom lip, pulling it down gingerly, he whispers. “ask nicely. say pretty please.”

“you won’t … charge me extra?” you sheepishly say, beads of perspiring sweat trickling down all sides of your forehead.

geto smugly smiles, grumbling a subtle, ‘nah,’ before making you lean all the way back against the padded sofa. “okay,” you breathe, and you just didnt care anymore.

you wanted him – maybe even needed him..

geto’s hardened bulge that presses against his thong throbs harder before you sweetly murmur,“please, fuck me, suguru.”

“anythin’ for the birthday girl.”

and those words were the same exact words that ran through your mind as you now found yourself in . . quite the risqué position.

you’d be the one straddling geto now. he’s got you in a classic 69, and your pretty perked ass hovers over his face. right in front of you was his weighty fat cock, and it’s a pretty flushed pink with rosy-lime veins prodding from the sides.

you’re whimpering out sweet harmonic keynotes as his long pointed tongue slithers its through your inviting entrance, two broad arms clinging onto your hips. “fuuckk,” he’d groan, feeling you smear a thumb over his leaky mushroomy tip.

you’ve already got him sopping wet from the chin down thanks to your wet cunt – glossy pearly drool seeping from the sides of his dick.

geto’s shaft remains idle, and you wrap a hand around his base before pumping it, rotating your wrist – once, twice, thrice..

he was aching, and the entire time he was giving you a show he had a boner. it was rare, usually whenever he gave lap dances—he was one to never really crack, he was a trained professional and yet here you were.

“mmch,” his swollen puckered lips smack against your cunt as he eats you out entirely from the back.

your mouth drops, jaw dangling— goofily hanging open like a cartoon as he resumes to extends the length of his tongue inside the outskirts of your warm room-temperate-tastin’-pussy.

lolling it out all the way, he licks from top to bottom—stopping at your clenching hole. geto gives it a five second kiss, a sloppy one that glues a mixture of his spit and your slimy juices on his mouth. “sweetheaaart,” he rasps, biting back a greedy groan once he feels you starting to take him in your mouth.

your throat’s seraphic warmth draws a hot sharp breath out of him as he swats a hard palm against your ass for you to start. “when i say move your ass against my face, i fuckin’ mean it. move,” and you let off a candied whimper the second the temporary sting sends singles toward your weeping whiny clit.

feebly, you start to flop your ass up and down against his face and you hear a satisfy ‘hmm’ purr from his lips. you’re moaning, sinking his cock down your throat in the process before your sticky tongue swirls around his angered crownhead. “mmph,” and you take a few inches before you feel his tip swipe against the scaled roof of your mouth.

going back up, it loudly ‘pops!’ out as a bit of sheeny saliva trickles down your chin. you’re taking him deep within no time, and you let off a cute hiccup once his swollen sack paps near your jaw.

so full ‘n round…

you’re breathing through your nose, still shaking your ass against his face, swipin’ his nose occasionally like a credit card with your honeyed-slathered cunt.

his wide flat tongue felt so good that you felt your toes curling each time he playfully nibbles on your sensitive throbbing clit. his tastebuds felt each pulse and it was so hot. “sugu, fuck.”

“i know, i know,” he gruffly whispers against your runny folds. bringing a pair of long twinned fingers towards your pussy, geto strums it down the pulsating slit in a straight pillaring line.

with a bit of pressure—he spreads your lower lips apart, getting a front row seat view of your clit pumpin’ pumpin’ away.

you had such a pretty throb, the prettiest he’s ever seen.

“god, you’re pretty but you’re even prettier down here too,” and not only do you hear him swallow but you feel it too.

a long full gulp, and he’s making sure to savor as much of your sweet slick on his tongue as possible.

geto’s just nasty, and a proud eater. he zigzags his tongue everywhere until your vision’s murky and clouded. you’re left crossed eyed with puffed up cheeks, barely able to focus on his dick that’s laying flat on your tongue.

a hand of his squeezes against your ass before with a mean ‘whack!’ he spanks it again just to see the bouncy recoil. the way a ‘lil fat portion of your ass would jiggle all due to the hasty-rash contact of his palm makes him throb.

and you feel it right in your mouth.

as your head bobbles at a more quick yet languid pace, your tongue skims down one of the many veins that paint down his cock. your repeated moans become muffled, and geto groans at how sloppy you sound—from the front and from behind.

the more he slurps every syrupy drop that dribbles out from your gurgling pussy, his precisely-thorough licks turn into exaggerated four second sucks.

geto softly caresses a hand against the bare skin of your exposed flesh, tugging on your pulled up skirt. pulled to the side were your panties that had a pretty pink star imprinted on the back decorated with glimmery rhinestones. you moan as your back slowly arches inward ‘n out and your knees become to buck.

his tongue, he definitely knew how to eat.

“ ‘s good, juuuus’ like that princess,” he huffs, feeling minuscule dewdrops of your saliva pour down the sides of his cock, slicking all over his base.

your thumb traces a heart over his hefty sack, massaging his tender full testes before you hear geto whine out a sweet, “o- oooh shit,” he was tender there too, huh..

and the sound catches him completely off guard because he grunts, the swaying of his tongue gradually slowing down. geto’s pretty lashes flutter before he grunts, taking a second to breathe. “don’t . . stop, play with ‘em some more,”

“pf—” you pop your mouth off his dick again, wet slimy sounds following as you stroke him off with an closed palm. “are you sure?”

“yeah yeah, ‘m sure,” and there’s a bit of sass in his gruff tone.

geto’s getting flustered, and never in a million years would he admit that you playing with his balls made him feel so good but fuck, it did.

geto paws a hand against your ass before letting off a hurried breathless, “fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

you went back to bobbling your head up ‘n down, pumping his fleshy pillar of length in your free hand before you start writhing your ass against his face even more quicker. geto moans, a surge of a trill nearly escaping out his gruff vocal chords before he grunts loudly. “mmp,” and your throat was so wet ‘n warm.

it enveloped him entirely, and as your cunt’s sitting over his slick lips—every so often rubbing against his nose and slick-streamed chin, he peppers it with a few kisses.

your hips were arched ‘n askew, and as your tongue occasionally darts down his sensitive slit you hear him grunt again. the burgundy colored sofa pathetically dips inward due to the stacked weight of both rutting bodies. geto’s eyes start to roll their way back as you continue, nearly sucking the soul out of him.

“fuck, baby. spit on it,” he groans, clasping his teeth at your needy clit.

he slides his tongue against your cute bulbous-shaped nub before sucking on it for the umpteenth time. you moan, still tossing your ass around for him in a slow meandering manner, feeling his tongue drag down the slope of your ass again.

geto’s pussy drunk entirely, and he didn’t care if this was against policy, having a customer touch him. when you tasted this divine, he couldn’t help devour your cunt like the starved, starved man he was..

at his words, you spat out translucent globs of saliva from your lips, pasting the slightly curved sides of his dick with your slick mess. “pff,” and you drench him from the base down, twisting his shaft with your wrist before hearing him groan.

geto’s about to finish and you could feel the vigorous pumps of his dick in your mouth growing weaker … and weaker – until, he cums.

geto’s jaw goes slack the moment his peak abnormally reaches, and growls out a husky ‘fuuuuuck,’ with the muscles in his neck tensing.

within a blink of an eye and a snap of a finger, the flat tip of your tongue’s now being sprayed with spritz of waxen cum. it’s a bittersweet taste that coats on your judgy tastebuds, and as you close your eyes with a humming moan departing from your lips, you hear him hiss. his body’s violently shaking, and his hips start to hungrily thrust into your mouth.

you wriggle your ass in face as he’s barely eating you out anymore, frantically heaving as he dumps his all down your pretty tight throat. “fuck, fuck, take it,” and his body still sporadically tremors.

as your mouth’s still full, geto gives your teary wet cunt it’s last few lapping licks before his head collapses back in lecherous defeat.

with cheeks still plumply puffed — his cock remains shoved inside. his aggravated red tip’s just swiping ‘n erupting near the roof of your mouth as you slurp him clean.

you swallow instantaneously, luxuriating in the mildly honey taste before feeling him shudder underneath you. “goddamn, so fuckin’ good. fuckin’ filthy, princess.”

with clammy palms, he turns you over and you lean in to kiss him. geto’s taken by surprise, and as you make him flop back against the velveteen cushion, you made your way on his lap. rough edges of teeth clash and roughly clatter against each other as each tongue plays a more salacious version twister.

geto reclines back, his hands moving toward your rocking waist as he grunts—tasting himself on your tongue. its bitter, but with the help of your lip gloss—it turns far more sweet within seconds. feverish breaths ghosts inside each mouth before you watch him reach near the side of him.

grabbing a half filled up bottle of mousseux, he flicks off the cork with a flick of his middle finger. geto’s eyes still closed as he’s delving his tongue right into your mouth.

the merciless smacking of lips grew louder before he pulls away, huffing breathlessly. “wan’ more of a taste real quick, princess,” and it sounds more like a needy plead. you see how flushed his face was, and geto’s eyes dart straight toward your bare chest. the top you wore was pulled down, clinging near the very bottom of your waist. “c’mere..”

and as you lean in, you watch as geto starts to pour down a small stream of champagne all down your chest. right between your tits, cupping underneath your tummy so none wouldn’t spill further down.

he makes sure a few glosses over your pretty round breasts before he grunts, closing the distance between your chest.

geto buries his face in between the valley of your tits, licking it right up. the bubbly fruity taste lingers on his tongue as he laps you up from top to bottom moaning at the spicy sweetness.

a mixture of your skin and champagne—better than any cocktail this club’s ever served.

“f- fuck,” he moans, lying his tongue flat. geto stares at you the entire time too, and his mouth gradually trails it way toward your damp neglected nipples. he cups his lips around the first nipple—slowly transitioning to the next before slurping the drink right off your body.

a tight breath gets caught in your throat as he continues to lick the rainy drops of sugary champagne off your body. geto groans, savoring the taste before with a loud ‘plop’, he pops your tender wet nipple out of his mouth.

there’s nothing but utter lust and infatuation in his eyes—and he then gets up to kiss you. the room’s nearly pitch dark without the help of the dim effulgent red lights that shined against you both. it added to the mood perfectly.

as tongues continue to try to assert dominance, you moan right in the dancer’s mouth, returning the gesture of swapping gauzy strings of gossamer spit.

abruptly though, you pull away, gently pushing geto back against the sofa.

with a raspy ‘ugh,’ geto lands on his back as you give him a light shove. he’s at your mercy, and you stand up from his lap, a wind of confidence coming out of nowhere and nearly pulling you forward.

he stares at you with hooded cunt-drunk eyes, watching you do a figure eight with your body.

“what’s . . this?” he huffs, burly arms stretching over each edge of the sofa. you looked so pretty, eyeing him up and down as he does the exact same to you.

the luminescent lights started to beam on you now, highlighting your curves and entire physique.

“lie back,” you murmur, slowly sashaying toward him. geto runs a hand through his hair, his dick twitching from the cool air wafting against it. you teasingly drag a finger down the scarred middle line of his bare-puffed chest, stopping at a hardened row of his brick-made abs. “i wanna try your little routine.”

“yeahh?” geto snickers, sucking in a sharp breath once you spin around, bending all the way over. the helmet that was still on your head—you put it back on him, watching him scoff at your audacity.

so you stole his profession now, great.

as you’re turned the other way, you slowly wriggle your ass in front of him, putting a hand over your sopping pussy and he kisses his teeth. “tch. don’t tease, sweetheart,” and geto’s allured stare fixates on you the entire time. his dilated irises frantically roamed around every and any part of your body like a laser. “fuck,” he grunts, watching you finally make your way on his lap.

geto’s all submissively underneath you—bare ‘n exposed with his poor tip flushed. its color was a sheeny carmine red that’s akin to a ripe cerise rose.

a few dried up splotches of cum stick near his weighty sides before he shudders. your ass sits on his flaccid dick before you start to move.

slowly,

you’re rutting into him—just like he was to you, grinding back and forth. geto looks so pretty though, underneath you. he’s still panting a bit, sweating bullets as you tease him with your crazed hips.

you weren’t at his level quite yet, but fuck could you move. geto groans, feeling your sloppy pussy rub off against his dick. you were so close to his tip that his foreskin would peel back a bit. “do you wanna touch me?”

touché..

geto narrows his eyes at you as you tease him, repeating his exact words from what he said to you earlier.

he doesn’t just touch you, he fucks you—

but in this case . . you fuck him.

geto holds back a moan as he’s watching his claret-colored cockhead disappear between your sappy folds. it’s like a magic trick, and with a ‘poof!’ half of length vanished within you.

you let off a soft shrilling whine, trying to writhe yourself around his length.

his dick was fat. ‘eyes-rolling-tongue-lolling-drag-your-nails-down-his back-’ type of fat.

and his girth only made things ten times more intense. you felt him rearranging your guts within each prolonged inch you took – literally.

you’re as slow as a snail with the way you try to take him wholly. even as you’re gingerly sinking your bare ass down with his cock snug ‘n deep inside you, he easily kisses against your g-spot.

it’s happening already, and you don’t even realize he’s fully in before a cooing whimper rawly snatches from the back of your dry esophagus. “oh fuck,” you huff, tossing your arms around the dark haired man.

geto’s got the same wide-eye-jaw-dropped reaction to you, and with one arm snaking around your waist—another’s tightly gripping onto your right ass cheek.

he spanks it, giving it a short squeeze afterward. your chest starts to heave in quickened intervals, and once he feels you starting to move it’s game fuckin’ over..

“god, pussy’s ‘ta die for,” he groans, eyes sexily rolling back until his sockets show nothing but white.

you had him whipped, and he can hear your cunt trying to have a word of its own, squelching out cute gargled squelches. you start to ride him at a mere hypnotic rhythm—and geto’s a lot more vocal now.

with his adam’s apple bobbing, both hands of his were now gripping onto your waist now. piles of money surround you too, a few sticking against his sweaty beefy thighs. “fuck me,” he grunts, and it’s more like he’s begging.

geto locks eyes with you, shaggy long bangs running past his eyes before he securely grabs your hips—trying to keep up pace with you. “mhm, thaaa’s it. ride it, ride . . the shit out of me, uuughhh.”

“ ‘m trying,” you moan, biting your lip each time his swollen cockhead plummets its way deep.

he’s just so big—you couldn’t wrap your head around how a guy could be so damn big.

the good kind of big, and each time he’d seep a single girthy inch into you, your stomach would churn like butter. he’s in sooo deep, your legs could barely support yourself anymore and he had to hold you steady.

as he pulls you all the way down, geto reaches waaay inside of your sloppy gripping cunt that’s oh-so desperate to wring him like a vice.

his thick cock greets your pretty fleshy cervix, mimicking a soft ‘knock’ before introducing itself with a welcoming pound.

he holds your hips, pumping himself into you again, and again, until your pussy remembered each stroke, each thrust, each fuckin’ letter of his name—front to last..

slow but fucking deep.

you gasp, clinging onto his neck before soft hurried pants of ‘yeah, yeah’ ‘s scurry past your glossed lips.

geto’s dewy eyes were half lidded and he’s never felt more pussy drunk in his life. trust—he’s had his fair share of women but oh, you were far different. it was something about you, and he just wanted more after each carnal second passed.

you’re so into his dick givin’ your pussy a fuck of a lifetime that you don’t even realize your hand was now wrapped around his thick neck. not too tight, but geto’s reaction time was slow also. once he realizes seconds after you did, he sheepishly scoffs before slyly humming.

“goddd, y’r so fuckin’ hot when you choke me,” he purrs, tugging at the panties that pull to the side of your thighs. of course he’d enjoy it, and as his dick’s still massaging your gummy walls, he moans. “harderrr.”

“don’t be greedy,” you mumble, burying your knees into his bulky thighs.

the way you rocked against him was hypnotic—and geto’s hands remain on your waist.

you nearly shudder, feeling the various cold bands of his rings run and tickle down your skin. he’s in love with your body, and even more in love with the way you feel from the inside.

leaning in close until you’re just inches away from his spit-slicked lips, your thumb runs its way down the bulging ball that lies inside his throat. “say ‘pretty pleaseee.’ ”

“tsk,” geto scowls, and even with a pout he’s effortlessly attractive. your hips continued to champion its way up ‘n down at a deranged pace as you moved, and his cock’s pumping you full over and over and over. with a vexed grunt, he utters. “pretty please, choke me harder.”

leaning in to kiss the side of his mouth, you whisper a crooning, “good boy,” and geto whines the moment you add a bit more pressure around his neck.

his hair’s all in his face, and your ass was just ruthless.

ferociously slamming down onto his stout cock, you’re drenching him from the base down with your syrup-coated slick. a bit of your own sloppy arousal glues against the pried apart crevices of your thighs—pasting against his as well.

it’s a mess, and with how close he was getting, he was about to create an even bigger one..

geto felt like he was ascending—and with how you were riding him, it didn’t take him long before he’s close again.

yet this time—so were you, and you could recognize the feeling all too well. geto’s cock stretched you to capacity, and he grabs the few dollar bills that scatter on the sofa, throwing it at your body whilst you rode him. he makes it rain on you, spanking your ass with a crumbled up hundred rubbing against your stung skin.

“fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” he grunts in your ear, feeling your pace accelerate by a mile. you were draining him, preparing to milk him and the thought of him stuffing your cunt full made you pulse.

your tongue salivated at just imagining it..

the warmth, the stickiness, the way it’d spill between your thighs. you’re moaning out sweet noises yourself as you both rut into each other at a demented overzealous pace. geto’s thick thighs clench—and while you’re letting out cute blubs of his name on repeat until it’s the only syllables your dumb brain could register—he pulls you close. “ngh, same time, pretty girl. cum with me, let’s make a . . hah, mess together.”

“okay,” you mewl out, both hips pivoting in lascivious unison.

both sweaty mounds of flesh blissfully bounce into at other and each squelch makes you whimper out in ecstasy.

you cup geto’s pecs, smearing a thumb over his pierced nipples and he whines instantly. you lean in to suck against the bars that slash through his tender areola. geto leans back manspread, growling out husky, ‘fuuuuck!’ ‘s as you hum, giving both his nipples its few seconds of attention.

it lasts for seconds that felt like years, and one you pull away he lets out a cute blasé huff.

as your cunt’s in the midst of overflowing—your hips tremor once more time before within milliseconds, you both cum.

it’s quick..

and with your jaw dropping and geto’s shoulders fatally sagging after his big, heavy sigh—he starts to fill you up ounce after ounce.

it’s patching hot, and the second he’s beginning to spill ‘n dump out his perfect ivory ribbons of cum inside of you, you grunt out a melodic finishing, “fuuuck.”

swinish, weak hands grab at your ass as you come undone also—whimpering soft defeating babbles from the sensitive feeling of your cunt spasming right between your jittery numb legs.

you feel static … shock, electricity pulsing through your veins all at once. your entire body was turning haywire. as you start to grow limb right with geto underneath you—nirvana runs through each individual axon on your body before you hear a loud ‘pop.’

it’s more of a sopping squishing sound, and you were so dumbed down from his dick that you didn’t even realized how full you were..

peeking down, he filled you to the brim. wads and wads and wads of cum went inside of you and you moan, spreading your ass apart while craning your neck around just to see for yourself.

“ ‘m so full, suguru,” you pant, sliding a thumb down your sputtering cunt that’s plugged with both his cock and his thin oozing seed. you lick your lips before turning back towards geto and he’s absolutely fucked stupid.

you rode him so good to the point where he’s just stammering out inaudible whines. it’s cute, and you lean in to kiss him once more.

oh.. he was hooked.

he deepens with a few clingy hands feeling at your chest. the kiss gets more passionate rather than sloppy, and as he’s still buried inside of your cunt—he slowly starts to trail butterfly kisses down your neck. you moan, turning your head before you pull away. “shit, i almost f- forgot.”

“forgot what?” he hoarsely rasps, watching you unalign yourself, plopping down on the sofa with a big content sigh.

geto leans in, allowing his thumb to draw circles around your hips before you reach in for your purse, pulling out another decorated vip pass.

sheepishly, you utter. “my friends bought me two sessions with two dancers. so i have another one after you,” and you glance at the clock, squinting before you let off a bashful titter. “. . . oh, that was way past thirty minutes.”

“who? what dancer, sweetheart?” geto utters with a pout. he was still aching, already missing his you felt from the inside. he watches as you squint at your pass that reads the dancer’s stage name and / or full name on the back.

“uhh, it says t—”

“she means me,” and the both of you spin heads, ogling at the glittery red carpet and decorated pathway that was once covered up.

you could hear geto that laid beside you muttering out a jealous, ‘fuck,’ as you meet the other dancer’s gaze.

he’s wearing a leopard thong with an added on accessory of the most smuggest grin you’ve ever seen.

a slashed scar runs down the right side of his crooked curved lips and you spot bills sticking at both sides of his halfway on thong that nearly shows his sharp hips before he hums.

“name’s toji,” and you’re suddenly being lifted up by strong, tatted brawny arms before he turns around, winking at a very pissed of geto before trodding out the private room with you in his arms.

“i’ll take it from here,” and feral green eyes with an even more feral grin. “ain’t that right, birthday girlll?”

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mickyschumacher · 3 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐎 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after a long awaited summer break, you were expecting to have a good sleep in with carlos, but his plans for you are slightly different. or in which you convince carlos' to turn his morning cardio into something a little more fun.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), unprotected sex (if you're gonna slip, slop, slap, you must wrap your willy!), few untranslated spanish words, p in v, teasing, oral sex, kinda fluffy, poor humour, breastplay, dryhumping (bc i am nothing without this), fingering, cumming inside, bit of overstimulation for the reader, i love you's.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!carlos sainz x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: while this wasn't what i initially was working on, i've momentarily gotten some free time amongst the chaos, you deserve some work, and carlos has been looking pretty delectable 🤭 // poorly proof-read sorry ♡︎

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

You weren't a fan of working out. Never had been and was never going to be.

It wasn't that you didn't see the point of it. You were well versed in the science: it was good for you. It helped your body, soothed you mentally, and overall, kept you in a pretty good mood if you kept the right balance.

Your problem lied within the methods.

Take your dear boyfriend, for example.

Carlos loved working out. You weren't sure whether it was because he was an F1 driver or whether it was just Carlos himself. But he spent almost every living moment off the tracks with some form of physical activity.

You had memorised his routine quite well: a lengthy morning run, training with his personal trainer, his beloved choices of golf or paddle, followed by the occasional swimming or God forbid, another run.

Carlos tried to get you 'hooked' on to it all, claiming it's better to workout with someone as opposed being by yourself. But his efforts were to no avail.

You had important things to do... like catching up on your beauty sleep.

"Mi amor," The rasp of Carlos' voice lingered through the early morning air, cold hands trailing over your back. He pressed his lips at the silent response, watching you not a budge even a centimetre in your sleep.

A sigh escaped his mouth as he pressed his knees onto the edge of your bed, bending down to push your hair behind your ears. "Cariño," He called softly, making you hum in response.

"Carlos," you mumbled with sleep heavy in your voice. "You better not ask–"

"Come on a run with me," Carlos pleaded.

You forced an eye open, wincing at the immediate white light surrounding you. Blinking rapidly, you honed in on the Spaniard who was already dressed for his venture, batting his brown puppy eyes towards you.

"Handsome, you know I love you very much," you cooed, pressing your head further into the warmth of your pillow, "But I'd rather watch Lewis go to Ferrari."

An abrupt slice of cold air trickled past your bare skin and thin clothes. You yelped, covering your body, immediately missing the comforting heat of your duvet. "Carlos!" You scolded, much more awake now.

Carlos gave you a sickly sweet smile. "Say unwarranted things, get unwarranted things," He shrugged nonchalantly before grabbing your ankle to drag you off the mattress.

"No, no, no, no," you groaned, squirming in his grip. Pouting your lips, you quickly reached over to grab Carlos' hand. "Please," you whined.

"My sweet girl," Carlos started, "I just want you to join me. I promise you it'll be good. It's fun morning cardio!"

You grimaced at the chirpy tone he had taken on. 'Fun morning cardio'... how insufferable.

Feeling Carlos loosen his grip, you yanked your ankle back and got on your knees, sinking down on the soft mattress. "Carlos," You murmured, hands travelling up his arms as you leaned in.

Carlos narrowed his eyes, quickly knowing you were up to something with that sweet tone of yours.

"Baby, name the better cardio. A morning run or..." You trailed off, hand travelling down his arm and past his thigh, resting dangerously close to his crotch. "... morning fun?"

Carlos let out a dramatic sigh but he couldn't keep the quirk of his lips at bay. He stretched out his thick arm, grabbing you by the waist. His skin swarmed with heat as he felt your bare waist under your shirt as he fully pulled you over him. A quick nudge to your knees left you straddling him.

"More energy burnt," you murmured in the venture of a fake persuasion even though you already had the answer. Carlos' hand reached out to push your hair behind your ears before landing on the soft pillows of your lips. Nervously you inhaled, "And a whole lot more pleasure."

You stared at Carlos. Taking in those puppy brown eyes, the warmth of his skin, those God-made eyelashes, and each little freckle mixed with the burden of racing on his face. It was the first day of summer break and even though Carlos was pulling you out of bed to work out in the morning, you couldn't help but be a little thankful. You missed him. You had both been so busy lately and it felt like you hadn't seen each other in months.

"What's on your mind, cariño?" Carlos whispered, thumb still trailing the shape of your lips as those very same brown eyes searched yours.

"Nothing. I just missed you. And your stupid morning cardio," You rolled your eyes. "Is that a crime?"

"Then I'm guilty as charged," Carlos confessed, not missing the softening of your eyes as he held you tighter against him. "All I've been thinking about since the race at home is coming back to you."

Carlos' home race in Spain was the last time you had met before long-distance had embedded it's nasty claws into you once again

"Yeah?" You whispered, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. "Anything in particular?"

Carlos took a deep breath in, your signature fragrance engulfing him. Goodness, were you intoxicating. "Well... there was picnics, breakfast, golf, and the beach on the agenda. And... morning fun."

A gasp left your mouth as Carlos fell back first onto the mattress, bringing his lips to yours.

This kiss was different from the others you had shared. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or context that accounted for that difference but the need, the love, the softness, and the brutal passion was suddenly pouring into every fibre of your being.

Your hands fell around his neck and hair, nose gliding near his as Carlos continued to ravage your mouth. He sucked on your lips with a small nibble here and there, relishing the muffled moans escaping your lips. His own hands continued to travel the path of your body he had committed to memory. He knew as he traversed your burning skin exactly where the small freckles and bumps he had come to love were.

Your soft moans became more audible and pleasing to Carlos' ears as he moved his lips to your neck, leaving the sloppily yet controlled kisses down base of your skin.

You gasped as you felt a sudden jerk underneath you, feeding into the pooling wetness between your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your hips automatically responded by grinding down onto Carlos' bulge.

"Ah, mierda," Carlos cursed, feeling his cock throb in his shorts. His eyes fluttered shut, hands returning to your hips to continue the stimulating pleasure.

Both of your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you felt Carlos' clothed cock rut into your poorly covered pussy. You rocked your hips harder into him, feeling a slight jolt against your clit. "Oh, fuck, Carlos," you moaned his name in his ear.

God, what were you two? Sex-crazed teenagers? Dry humping on each other like rabbits in heat.

"Hermosa," Carlos panted, eyebrows strained with the urge to cum yet give you all the pleasure he could. "I need... I need..." he breathed, "I need to be in you, fuck." His entire body shuddered with a sharp arousal while his cock could feeling your thin underwear becoming useless and drenched. It was as thin as his patience was wearing.

You made a poor attempt to nod, releasing a hand from his neck. You briefly lifted your hips, pushing your panties to the side. In doing so, your breath hitches as you feel your sensitive folds glide past your fingers.

"Oh, fuck," Carlos blubbered, losing himself in seeing your bare pussy and your reaction. "Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me, baby. I need you ready for me," He encouraged breathlessly, attempting to shove off his shorts with one hand.

Carlos watched in torture as you pushed your fingers into your warm walls, body jerking forward at the sheer pleasure. "That's it, baby," he continued to praise you, "Doing so well for me, hmm?" He asked, moving one hand down your hips, skimming past your burning thigh before reaching the small bundle of nerves situated near your hand.

"A little faster, baby," Carlos said, "You're already so fucking wet. Pump those fingers... let me see how much you missed me."

You were already moaning in a haze at the praises leaving his lips, pushing your fingers in faster, unable to see how your engorged folds took them in as your eyes focused on the ceiling. But the moment you felt the pad of Carlos' thumb on your clit, you had given up every ounce of respect you had for yourself.

"Oh, shit, oh shit," you cursed, hips bucking up at his action. Your eyes shut tightly. The white light of ecstasy felt close. Your hand sped up faster, your hips went against your fingers and his thump with a more brutal force, feeling his aching cock bounce under you... Christ, you were going to cum. And hard.

The light... so close...

And just like that, it was gone.

You snapped your eyes open, falling to your pussy to see Carlos' hand retreating. "Mierda... no, baby, Carlos, " you cursed without looking at his face. But the moment you did, you understood him.

His hooded eyes told you everything. The throbbing his aching cock was bringing him, his slurred state of mind, and his firm desire to make you cum on his cock.

You kept your eyes on him, savouring the hiss falling from his lips as your took his cock out of his underwear. You gave a small smile, guiding his angry member to your puffy folds. You both released hitched moans when you rubbed your pussy against his cock.

You watched as Carlos purposely lifted his hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit, making your body convulse for a brief second. Fucking hell. That was enough for the both of you. Cumming just by rubbing yourselves on each other was equally as worse as cumming by dry humping each other.

You pressed your lips together, pushing his cock slowly into your pussy. Christ, he was always so big. Thick and pulsing in your hands, stretching your pussy out no matter how many times you made love as if it were the first time.

Carlos groaned, both hands firmly placed on your hips, head falling back onto the bed headboard. God, it had been so long. He missed your touch everyday. But the feeling of his cock in your pussy... he thought about it every second of every day.

You pushed your hips down flat, ensuring Carlos bottomed out. You groaned at the full feeling of his cock in you, eyeing the small bulge in your stomach. "Fuck, you fill me up so well, baby," you praised.

Carlos moaned in response. "Ride me baby. You know I like when you ride me."

You managed a smile, taking off the singlet you had slept in. The self control Carlos had for your breasts was little. Especially, when they bounced in front of him like they were right now. His hands almost immediately shot out, groping the soft mounds with all his might.

Immersed in your tits, his body trembled when you rose your hips and slammed down on his cock, repeating the movement again. "Ah, shit," Carlos cussed, drunk on your pussy.

You ground your hips forward as you rode his cock, stimulating the pure pleasure of grinding on one another. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Carlos' hand reach towards your clit. Your eyes shut, bracing yourself for what's about to come.

Carlos intently watched you, rubbing your clit in soft circles. He could see you slowly fall apart, the fast rhythm of your hips slowing down and becoming sporadic. Your body was shaking with pleasure, your hands reaching towards his thick biceps.

He continued your work for you, lifting your hips with his one hand on your waist. He grunted, feeling you clench around his cock. "Cum... cum for me," he beckoned, increasing the speed of his cock and the pressure of his thumb on your clit.

He smiled at the complete lost look that had fallen on your face. Your body jerked and convulsed over him, your brain unable to control it any longer. Your climax hit you hard as he denied your previous one not too long ago. Your whine was high pitched and dazed. You were completely lost in pleasure.

Your pleasure only fuelled his own. Your walls were holding his cock like a vice, clamping down on him. You could feel his throbbing cock overstimulating your sensitive pussy.

Carlos groaned at the feel of his twitching cock in your walls. He panted, hips racing to chase the urge to cum. "Yes, yes, yes," he mumbled, falling victim to your praises falling from your soft lips and the clench of your pussy.

You both groaned when you felt the hot ropes of his cum spill into your walls. HIs hips stuttered, faltering against yours as you took every last drop from his cock.

Carlos buried his chin into your neck, riding out his last few moments of his climax. "Fuck," he mumbled, letting out a small exhale as he moved his head back and looked at you. He laughed softly at your tired look. He placed a few lingering kisses across your neck, coming to your lips last. "I love you," he murmured against them.

You smiled gently. "Forever?" you asked.

"Forever," Carlos confirmed, placing a kiss on your forehead. Slowly, he removed his softening cock from your pussy. You both watched his cum mixed with your spill out of you.

You looked up at Carlos, eyeing the dark look on his face. You sighed. "Morning fun or not, give me at least ten minutes. If not thirty!"

Carlos chuckled, moving out from under you and standing in front of you in an unbecoming state that would make his closest friends laugh at him. He swooped you into his arms making you yelp. "Let's take a shower. I'll clean you."

You raised a brow, hands hung around his neck. "Just cleaning? That doesn't sound like you," you retorted.

Carlos smirked, walking you to the bathroom. "You're right. I'll clean you, fuck you, and clean you again."

Oh…

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz

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fanaticsnail · 6 months ago

Text

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,100+, 1,700+, 1,700+, 1,400+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, same reader!insert different outcome, chop-chop fruit shenanigans, angst, romance, smut, kissing, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Dreaming of You Masterlist Here, Please read the warnings. I am having a lot of fun with this series, but this one got away with me. They're only meant to be silly little drabbles between larger fics. Sorry for the lengthy read! Enjoy playing the part of a marine spy for Cross-Guild!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @lostfirefly

Hips pressed against one another, huffing pants and gasps were collected in one another's lips and skin as he pinned your back against the wooden wall behind the burgundy curtains of the tent door. Legs collected over his hips, he held your left thigh in his right hand, his forearm caging you by slotting up between your right shoulder and the cool surface.

Lusting and passionate, he drew intentional thrusts that were slow and deliberate enough to brush at your g-spot and mold your pussy to the contours of his thick cock. He slacked his jaw, his eyes swimming with emotion as he ground his pelvis against your clit with every heavy thrust.

Your voice whimpered for him, stifling your mewls of pleasure by biting down into his shoulder and crying as he bullied his cock into your needy pussy. He groaned with you, rocking his cock in slow, languid thrusts up into your body.

“Please,” you begged him, desperately clawing at his back and peppering his shoulders, neck and jaw with enthusiastic kisses, “We don't have long until the others come back.” He growled at your words, offering you a particularly mean thrust forward and a cruel bite against your neck.

“A-Aah!” you gasped in shock, biting your lip and digging your nails into his shoulders harder. He sheathed his entire length greedily into you, his shaft twitching in bliss the moment he felt his blunt tip brush your cervix. His hips stapled yours against the wall he was bullying you against.

“I don't care if they hear,” he barked against your neck, tracing his tongue over the bruise forming from his bite, “I don't care if they see.” He pulled back his hips only slightly before immediately propelling himself forward and forging his body against yours like soldering iron to a hot blade.

“Let them hear,” he admitted, huffing against your neck as he rocked his hips into yours, removing his hand from hooking around your thigh to grip your neck and bring your gaze to meet his. “Let them see.” He plastered your parted lips with his own, desperate with tongue and teeth as he released your neck to hold your thigh once more.

“I want them to hear,” he groaned into your mouth, rolling your cheek with his chin and kissing down your jaw, “I want them to see.” He trailed his needy kisses down your neck as he doubled his effort and sped up his rhythmic thrusting.

As your core sucked him in each time he retracted, his mind was lost to him and was filled with primal desire. He needed them to hear your sweet moans and whimpers. He needed them to see who was making you feel this good. He needed you to know who you belonged to.

“Say you're mine,” he growled, his lips mouthing up your neck, over your jaw and to your cheeks, “Say it.” He sped up faster, his cock hammering into you with every cruel, frenzied thrust. His hair was sticking to the dewy sheen of sweat against his forehead and neck, his brows furrowed as he glared into your eyes with an intensity he had never felt in life prior.

“Say you're mine,” he barked at you, commanding you to fulfill his desires as his cock twitched within you. Your walls beckoned him closer, the thump of your ecstasy wringing his cock as he pistoned it within you had him desperately whimper and whine your name.

“P-Please say you're mine,” he implored you in desperation, his fingers clutching your thigh in a heaping fistful as he continued to chase your mutual highs, “Tell me. Tell me your mine, and I'll be your slave.” He begged, kissing your lips and panting through his thrusts, “I'll be yours. Is that what you want?”

He chased your mutual high faster, rocking and pummeling into you with his heels digging into the floor. His belt buckle jingled atop his pants pooling at his ankles, your own pants discarded beneath you long ago. Leaning down, he took your peaked nipple into his mouth and rolled it over with his tongue.

A string of saliva attached from his lips to the puckered bud when he pulled away, huffing and panting at the lustful display of your breathing hitching. Body bouncing in sultry ripples with each thrust, he groaned as he felt his abdomen tighten with a familiar call of his imminent release.

“Yes,” you whispered his name suddenly, clutching his neck and carding your hands through his hair, “Yes, I want that. I want you-...” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.”

He growled his pleasure at hearing your words into your lips, tongue lapping with yours and his hair brushing against your forehead. You hastily tugged him away from your lips by gripping the scruff of his neck and pulling hard.

“W-What? Why are you-?” He began, his words halted by the intensity of your gaze. Your lips were parted, face flushed from a higher rise of hazy temperature, and skin forming lustful bruises and mapping his treasure with his marking kisses.

“Make me yours,” you gasped at him, panting as your lust eclipsed your eyes, “Cum in me. I want it. Need it.” His eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack as his hips staggered their vicious thrusting deep inside you.

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna-...” His abdomen tightened further, his eyes glowing black with luminescent lust as his seed spilled inside you with hot spurts, “I'm cumming-... hhah-... I-I’m cumming…f-f-fuck-...” Rope after rope of translucent cum released within your walls, the rhythm of your own ecstasy milking him with squeezing grasps on his throbbing cock.

You called his name, throwing your head back as he trailed his eyes over your skin with adoration within his bliss. He couldn't get enough, reaching forward to collect your lips beneath his in a scorching mess of lips, tongue and teeth. With a desperate kiss to mold him against you completely, he forged an unspoken covenant to ensure you knew you were his and he was yours.

Opening his eyes, the image of your blissed out afterglow faded from his vision. All that he was met with was the ornate ceiling in his bedroom, his cock twitching through the final waves of untouched pleasure.

“No,” he growled, removing his duvet with his right hand and glancing at the lustful dance his swollen cock twitched with. A last spurt of cum spilled from the glossy slit and he immediately thrust the ruined blanket on top of his stomach to shield it from his sight.

“Fuck.”

Sir Crocodile

He balled his right fist, slamming it into the mattress beside his hip with a rumbling growl in his chest. Inhaling deeply, holding it for a few seconds, and exhaling slowly had him assess all that occurred to him with his night vision moments ago.

“Please say you’re mine. Say you’re mine and I’ll be your slave,” his own voice echoed in his mind, “I’ll fall to my knees and worship you in all ways. I’ll treat you like the deity I know you to be, showering you in praise and praying at your altar. Please.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered with half-hooded lessons, “I’ll only ever be yours, Sir Crocodile. Only yours.” He snapped his eyes awake, clenching his jaw impossibly tight and drawing his brows down in fury.

“I begged?” he snarled, reaching for a cigar and his flint-lock lighter, “I begged to claim you as mine?” He clicked his tongue before biting down on his cigar, lighting the end with a small flame and sucking in a sour lungful of smoke, “Utterly ridiculous.”

Pulling the duvet away from his lap, he growled at the sticky ooze pooling at his abdomen before squaring his shoulders and walking to the adjoining ensuite in his master bedroom. The Cross-Guild tent did not have many luxuries, but he refused to go without simple pleasures while working with the disgusting clown.

A bath was one such pleasure Sir Crocodile would not live without.

Running the water, he dropped each foot into the tub and sighed out at the contact of the freshwater rising to his thighs. The heat and steam eradicated his shame from his abdomen without much effort, melting it down and washing it away beneath the water. Groaning, he looked to his absent left hand and gazed down at the scarred stump.

“We don’t have long until the others come back,” he heard your voice echo within his mind, drawing himself back to the dream and causing him to grimace in annoyance. He circled his palm and fingertips over his left forearm and molded the flesh within a firm grip.

The pains on his phantom limb had returned, his mind racing and attempting to draw up distractions by any means necessary. Your midnight illusion was simply the latest commodity to preoccupy his attention with lustful desires, is how he rationalized such a shameful intrusion.

He was a fourty-six year old man, not some prepubescent teenager so consumed with the need to fuck that their minds dreamed it into an untouched and sticky reality. The pain intensified, his teeth clamping in a rough hiss as the illusionary throb of his hand caused him to shake his arm from his grip.

This was going to be a long and tiring day.

At the meeting, he was being short and harsh with anyone and everyone to cause him displeasure. His teeth snapped barks, his chest rumbling his fury and his hair was beginning to become disheveled. The clown was aggravating, and the swordsman’s silence was not as refreshing as it was under usual circumstances.

His right hand only ever left his left forearm for the chance to draw up a cigar, yet the sour smoke did very little to soothe his pain, and his hand only seemed to make the intensity of the throbbing worse. As Mihawk and Buggy stood to leave the room, he remained behind and he finally hissed out a lengthy growl behind his clenched teeth at the pain.

There was not a sound in the room, a slight ringing in his ears as the pain reached his head and dizzied his mind. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, he had no context for a gentle touch on his hand over his forearm until he snapped his purple eyes up to meet with yours.

“Allow me, Sir Crocodile,” your smile illuminated your face, gently suggesting with your touch to remove his right hand from his left forearm. He attempted to fight the urge to bark at you, snap at you and give in to his desire to have you touch him.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Marine?” he growled, eyes narrowing and lips curling up into a deep snarl, “Who gave you the right to touch me-?”

“Oh, shut up. You've been horrendous today and I refuse to have this continue to be cause for your disgusting attitude,” you bit back, your own lips pulling back to reveal your snarl, “Let go of your arm and let me help you, damn it.” He immediately dropped his arm in favor of gripping your neck in a tight choke, bringing your face closer to his.

“You dare to give me orders, Marine?” he roared at you, your teeth gritting back the pain and glaring into his eyes. “I was a former warlord, little spy. Now I hunt and kill your kind for a living.” As Sir Crocodile monologued, he remained ignorant of your hands working to find the clamps of his prosthetic hook and releasing the golden cover from his arm.

“And now you touch me, spy? Offering me what, exactly?” he continued monologuing as you removed his hook and rolled up his embroidered sleeve. The pain in his forearm was so intense he could barely feel any relief of tension come from releasing his limb from the confines of his hook. “How are you going to help-... A-ah!” He gasped, his brows tugging up in the center of his forehead as he glared at you.

Immediately releasing your neck, he looked down at his bare forearm within both of your hands and bit back a whimper. In his own grip, his scarred forearm felt hot and throbbing beneath his cooler temperature. In your warmer hands, his arm felt encased in an encumbering embrace like hot stones sizzling on a damp surface.

Your thumbs traced the contours of his muscles, dipping between his bones and rolling his muscle between your fingers. The heel of your palm added a tight pressure to his ache, his breath coming out in rough pants the longer you held him in a tight grip. His eyes softened, his scowl loosening from anger to pain.

Hissing and panting, an uncharacteristic whimper fell from his lips as you silently focussed on working the flesh within your skilled grip. Circling your thumbs and contracting your hands, you instructed him with calming and soothing words.

“Deep breaths now,” you whispered in a slow and intentional hum, “In when I squeeze, and out when I release.” He nodded his head, feeling the soft roll of your hands over his skin. As you tightened his grip, his chest expanded with a lengthy inhale and exhaled as you withdrew.

Repeating that motion, he felt the tension in his mind begin to release him from his illusions. Focussing on your movements as your voice soothed him with each direction, he didn’t expect his emotions to overcome him at such kindness. Your hard contractions over his arm eased up, your fingertips tracing the scars on the vacant nub and causing his flesh to tingle beneath it.

“Better, sir?” halting your soft motions, you gently placed your hand on his forearm and held faint pressure over his skin. Reopening his eyes, he felt tangible relief wash its way over his face. Gazing into your eyes, you held nothing but empathy and gentleness in your twin orbs. He leaned down over your face, bringing contact between your two foreheads and offering you the slightest of smiles.

“Why would you do that?” he whispered in an uncharacteristic soft voice, “Touch me like that? Offer me such kindness after all that’s occurred between us?” He raised his right hand and cupped the back of your head in a firm grip to hold you against him.

“You didn’t kill me the moment I stepped into the red tent,” you smiled warmly at him, “Nor did you kill me any day thereafter.” Giving his arm another gentle squeeze, you glanced down at his missing limb and offered him a melancholy smile. He growled at your confession, searching your eyes for a further explanation. You huffed out a sigh, smiling further with a soft twitch up your cheeks.

“I used to do this for my friend back at the marine base,” you offered him a glimpse at your history with your explanation, “Did it all the way up until the day she died. Said something about my hands feeling warm against her skin, different to her own temperature. Soothing.”

He chuckled at that, nodding against your head and closing his eyes shut in momentary bliss. That was why you felt so good on his skin, your skilled motions causing him aid and relief. You have done this before, and were offering it freely to him.

“Oh?” he asked, his smile tugging at his cheeks and elevating the scar over his face, “And did she manage to say what she did without you by her side to aid her?” You laughed at him, breaking away your contact from his forehead and scrunching up your nose playfully.

“I was always by her side, sir,” you confessed to him, nodding as you spoke, “She and I were inseparable, even in cabin quarters.” He nodded in understanding, looking down to his limb and back up to your eyes.

“Well, if that’s the only solution for the pain I’m encountering,” he uttered, his lips curling into a wide smirk, “I would see you gather your personal effects and move into my cabin beside the tent, immediately.” You laughed at him, rising from his side and beginning to leave the meeting room.

“I hardly think that would be appropriate. Don’t you agree, sir?” you question him, collecting your bag from the circular table in the center of the room. As you moved to leave the tent, a strong forearm snaked around your chest and grasped your shoulder, tugging you firmly into a broad chest.

“Wasn’t a suggestion, Marine,” he whispered into your ear, the smooth rumble of his voice shooting tingles up your spine and causing you to gasp. “You’re mine now. Hear me?” He grazed his lips over your cheek and down your jaw in a slow motion.

“Mine.”

Buggy

“Oh, what the fuck?” his nasally voice huffed, his makeup free face flushing with a hefty sprinkle of dark blush, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He reached down to his cock and fisted it in a pistoning motion.

“Had to be you, didn't it?” he cursed your name in a pouty snarl, “The fucking spy.” He swirled his cock in his palm, growling at it before he simply detached it with his balls and brought it up to his face. He frowned in a deep scowl, drawing up his heckles as he began chastising his cock.

“C’mon, man! How could you do this to me?” He growled at his cherry-red knob, choking it in his fist, “You think this is fucking funny? You think I want to see ‘em like this?” He drew up his other hand and slapped his knob, his pelvis wincing in response.

“Out of bounds,” he berated his cock, “The spy is out of bounds. You know the spy is out of bounds.” He pinched his knob, choking it and only making his pleasure heighten. “N-Nnngh-... Not for thinking about, not for trying to fuck.”

He whimpered, his priorly ruined orgasm still gluing his duvet to his stomach. He growled, hocking a wad of spit behind his lips. He spat on his cock in an attempt to degrade himself further, only leading to lubricating his ministrations and causing him to throw his cerulean colored hair back into his plush pillows in bliss.

“Hhah-... The spy is not for you, you fucking idiot,” he gulped his confirmation, his cock thrusting itself in his fist beside his head as he frowned at it, “Think about something else,” he closed his eyes, meeting the thrusts of his cock with his hand as he tried to think about anyone else he could sheathe himself in.

“Buggy, I-I’m gonna c-cum-,” he heard your voice whimper at him, his cock twitching in his hand beside his face, “Buggy, please can I cum?” He shook his head, attempting to picture anything else. Faceless breasts bouncing, ripples of an ass jiggling, parted lips panting and huffing with eyes scrunched shut-... Your voice calling his name with adoration pouring from your lips like honey.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, shaking his head and attempting to go back to the earlier images. He only pictured your hair, your skin, your perfume, and your lips behind his eyes. Those lips used to spell secrets, split in a perfect ‘O’ as he pictured you slicking his cock up in your needy cunt with your erupting ecstacy milking him of his heaping load.

“Fuck! No, no, no, no, n-oooh!” He threw his cock away from his face to not shoot himself in the eye with his release. It spattered the wall in a secondary wave of sticky cum like a grenade exploding on impact. “Nnnngh-... F-Fuck. Fu-uck-... C-cumming-.” His abdomen contracted as he rode the remaining waves of his orgasm untouched and unstimulated.

Ropes of guilt shot out of his small slit and coated the wall and floor in a sticky pile of pearlescent cum. He groaned your name, huffing and panting as his hips bucked up in an attempt to stimulate his detached cock.

“N-... No…” he whimpered, bringing his palm up to his face and clapping it over his lips. “Not the spy. I can't-... I can't have the damn spy. They're a bloody marine, you fucking idiot,” he degraded himself further, rising from his bed and wiping his abdomen of the solidifying globs of sticky cum with his duvet.

He reached his cock, staring at it as it looked like a pathetic, slobbering drunk as it lay in a pool of its own drool. He clicked his tongue at it, picking it up and dusting it off before reattaching it to his pelvis. Readjusting his balls, he found his red jumpsuit and messily thrust it over his body in one swell motion. Instead of throwing his arms through the sleeves, he tied the material around his waist and offered to remain shirtless.

“Not the spy,” he whispered to himself as he exited his ornate living quarters at the Cross-Guild base. Making his way to the kitchen, he was halted by a soft hum reverberating around the room.

A familiar somber tune painted the air with its melody, his eyes shutting and the corner of his mouth ticking up as he listened to the lyrics. Stepping into the room, he attempted to mask his nerves with his signature mischief written on his face.

As he drew his eyes over your features, your back facing away and staring out the window by the sink, he couldn't help but have the mask of protection slip away. Your lips whispered the lyrics, your heart carried the tune. You were not in your marine uniform, nor were you adorning the attire Sir Crocodile purchased for your protection.

You were dressed in simple, gray-coloured slacks that hung loosely around your hips. The top you were wearing was a cropped t-shirt with his Jolly Roger printed on the back. His lips parted in shock as he drank you in, listening to your soft singing and closing his eyes to experience it fully.

Before he could manage to say a word to reveal his presence, your hums ceased and your voice lowly uttered your apologies.

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you bow your head to him in greeting, “I was not assuming the three of you to be awake so early. If I bothered you with my noise, I apologize.”

“N-No bother,” he huffed your name and hastily gave his reply to you with a soft blush, “I-... I haven't heard that song since the old days. Way back when-... When Roger…” He trailed off, looking at a point just beyond your hips and against the sink beside you.

“I love the old shanties,” you chased his gaze with your own, angling your chin down and attempting to pry his eyes up to meet yours, “They're either about drinking, fucking, or grieving.” Buggy met your gaze, grinning up at you with his teal eyes beaming.

“Ah, two of my favorite pastimes,” he added his commentary, leaning in closer and a cheeky smile pulling at his cheeks, “I’m not one for fucking.” He shot you a wink, prompting you to laugh at his joke. Your laugh was music, each soft teeter was as radiant as a lilt from heavenly minstrels. After teetering off your laugh, he offered you a soft smile with his eyes wide and curious.

“Would you mind…?” Buggy trailed off again, nervously clutching the back of his neck and cringing through his smile, “...Could you perhaps tell me why you decided to join us, again?” He released his hand from his neck and darted his eyes between yours.

After taking a moment to collect your breath and mull over what it was he asked of you, shrugged and offered him a simple answer.

“The Berry is good, and it’s mutually beneficial,” you nod at him, smiling with your answer, “You were the one who offered me a choice, remember?” Crossing your arms, you leaned your hips back on the sink and glared at him, “It was either: spy for the marines as a triple agent for your Cross-Guild with a livable wage, or have Crocodile or Mihawk take my head. I chose you, Captain.”

As Buggy was reminded of his prior actions and offered you a sheepish smile in response. Stepping forward, he reached for your forearms and waited for you to flinch away or chastise him for such a soft gesture. In the wake of such a softness, he was pleasantly surprised when he felt your fingers interlace with his own and hold them beside him.

“You know, ‘m sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, looking to his toes and pouting his unpainted lips, “Didn’t mean t’ have it sound so bad.” You smiled in response, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and angling your chin down to look at his uncovered fingers.

“You know, you’re actually quite handsome,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, “The infamous Captain Buggy D Clown, genius jester, king of fools, and calamity of chaos.” You named his titles with a soft smile, looking up into his rainforest-colored eyes with such gentleness.

“You-... You think I’m handsome?” He asked you, your soft laughter prompted his own to slip freely into the air. You unplaced your right hand from his left and cupped his cheek within your palm, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re usually dressed in makeup, with your long hair tucked under your hat,” you collected a strand between your fingers and rolled your thumb over the lengthy blue locks, “And, you usually don’t have this much skin revealed.” Looking down at his chest: his messy blue hair trailed down his chest, tapered off at his stomach, and picked up again like a cerulean trail leading to the assumed treasure beneath his red jumpsuit.

“I’m not used to seeing this much of you, Captain,” you muffled, drawing your gaze back up to his with a rapidly broadening smile, “And I’m not mad about it.” Your eyes creased at the corners as you offered him a toothy grin in response to his vibrant blush.

The hue of his cheeks rivaled that of his nose and jumpsuit, his eyes almost weeping from the rapidly rising blood pooling in his face. His Adams apple bobbed at the compliment, gulping back a dry pit in his throat and swallowing it.

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, chuckling to cover his nerves and squeezing your remaining hand in his in two short motions, “I… I take back my earlier sentiment, uh-... If you’re interested?” He continued stuttering and choking on his words as he clumsily cartwheeled around his intentions.

“Oh?” you smirked at him, raking your fingers through his hair and darting your eyes between his, “And what was your earlier sentiment again, Captain?” You trailed your fingers down to the end of his lengthy locks.

He gulped his terror and humbled himself by offering you a short, huffed laugh. After taking a moment, his eyes twinkled in mischievous hope as he rejoined your eyes in a smiling gaze.

“I am one for fucking…”

Mihawk

Amber eyes stared in horror at the ceiling, wide and unblinking as he replayed the final moments over and over again in his mind. He drew his right hand down to grasp around the steel girth of his deflating cock and wield it in his firm grip.

“I want that. I want you, lord Mihawk,” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you in his mind's eye, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes twitching but remaining staring vacantly at the ceiling. Thumbing over the prior release, he hissed in agitation the moment his fingers collected his viscous eruption.

“How fatuous,” he snarled, raising his duvet once more from his waist, “So puerile.” His face remained vacant, his eyes holding only a touch more agitation than his usual persona as he walked to his ensuite shower. Turning the taps, he didn’t wait to feel the rise in water temperature.

Stepping into the freezing water, he made no reaction as the icy liquid pelted at his skin; not even blinking to dampen his rapidly drying eyes. The water began to elevate in temperature as he released his cock from the grip. Gathering his sandalwood soap bar in his hands, he began lathering himself in foamy suds and washing over his body with his shock and shame still evident on his features.

The only time he closed his amber eyes was when he washed over his face, scrubbing at his whiskered chin and massaging his cheekbones. As soon as his eyes closed, he only saw your face contorted in pleasure, your ethereal moans freely haunting him in his ears. Shaking his head beneath the water, he only saw your face and imagined your hands clawing at his back beneath the water.

Horror and shock eclipsed his eyes upon reopening, his eyes remaining that way as he concluded his shower, dried himself off, applied his cologne and skin care products, and dressed himself in his pants and greatcoat. His fingers stuttered over the lacing on his outer greatcoat, his lengthy necklace almost choking him as he placed it over his neck.

Almost stumbling into the dining space, he searched in his mind for a reason something so juvenile could occur for someone of his age, standing, and stature. He had gone for so long without taking a lover, he barely felt any lusting urges overcome him anymore. It didn’t suit his routine, his monotony, or his lifestyle as a former warlord.

His apathetic and bored stature coming from a place of loneliness in his sovereignty as World's Greatest Swordsman. His achievements were already so vast, and he had nobody to share them with - nor a desire to begin a courtship with someone akin to his title. He had no time to take a lover, no time to indulge in whoring as it took away from his duties tending his garden in Kuraigana, and his bounty collecting as Marine-Hunter for Cross-Guild.

So, why did his mind replay your pleasure over and over again in a loop of falsified memory? The marine spy, the confidant to cross-guild, the whispering oathbreaker; all the titles he sought to bestow you with. His hands reached for the bottle in front of him, clasping the green glass in his hands and uncorking the waxy tip. Pouring the rouge liquid into a crystalline glass, he felt a presence to the side of him.

“Could you spare a glass for me, my lord?” your soft susurration drew his attention back to the present, prompting his eyes to flicker to you. He witnessed your soft smile, your gaze assessing his face and shoulders.

Wordlessly, he reached for another glass and began readying it for you. The dry liquid coated the glass, a soft drop spilling from the rim and down the stem which caused you to knit your brows in concern.

“Everything okay, my lord?” you asked, reaching for a napkin and beginning to clean up the mess, “You seem out of sorts this morning. Berry for your thoughts?” You dabbed at the table with the wafer-thin paper and tidied up his spill without a second thought. His eyes followed your motions, almost viewing the dabs in slow motion the longer your hands lingered near him.

His silence seemed to perplex you further, turning your shoulders and leaning your hips back against the marble counter and staring up into his unblinking eyes in response. His shaking hands reached for his wineglass and drew it up to his lips. His mustache dipped into the liquid, messily staining his upper lip with the tart tannins.

Gazing at his shoulders, you noticed a loop of his shoulder straps seeming to bubble within the corseted lacings, your hands absentmindedly straightening the bonds without much thought. Mihawk choked on his liquid the moment your hands brushed against his shoulders.

Feeling the warmth float from your fingertips to the exposed skin beneath the weighty jacket, his eyes widened briefly and his pupils narrowed in an accusatory glare. Huffing a nervous laugh as his soft choke and shaking your head, you reached behind you to the pile of napkins and began to raise it to his face and lightly pat at his stained skin.

Reactionary, he immediately placed his glass down behind you with his right hand, his left clapped around your invasive wrist in a circled vice-grip. Your breath caught in your throat, darting your eyes around his face with your eyes wide and panicked. He immediately drew his face forward and captured your lips beneath his without restraint. He hummed into your lips, raising his right hand and carding his fingers through your hair to deepen the passion.

Lips, tongue, and teeth pulled and tugged at your mouth from the swordsman, his gentle moans and sharp breaths depicting his wanton need to join himself with you immediately. He was pent up for so long, restrained for so long, and his body betrayed him in a shameful display in his dreams as proxy to such desire. If his overnight visit from you as his midnight muse spoke for anything, it was that his needs were now becoming more insistent, prominent, and desperate to be satiated.

And you were who he wanted to aid him in such a task.

Your hands raised defensively beside you, your eyes were wide and staring at his furrowed brow and tightly clamped eyes. He continued pressing heated and passionate kisses against your lips with gusto. Not giving you time to adjust or react, he anchored himself between your legs and pinned you against the marble dining station. Lips trailing to your cheek and down your neck, he bit, nipped and sucked at your revealed skin.

His hands looped around your neck and shoulders, drawing you against him with an incessant need to depict to you his desires with his unyielding grip. You gasped as his lips traced up your skin and returned to your lips, your hands dropping to brace yourself beside you on the marble surface.

Pulling his lips away, he held your face stationary by palming at the scruff of your neck and holding your attention with his honey-colored eyes. His predatory gaze narrowed in on you as his bruise-kissed lips ticked up in his signature smirk.

“There,” he snarled at you in soft agitation, before releasing your neck. He collected his wineglass and green bottle from behind you, keeping his face in close proximity. His smirk drew up further as he turned to walk away from you.

Calling over his shoulder, he snickered his taunting remark at you before leaving through the door, “Now I can occupy your thoughts the same way you've been tormenting me in mine.”

You stood there stunned, frozen in place as your lips still tingled with the feeling of his against yours. The silky scrape of his neatly cropped beard tickling your cheeks, the way his tongue brushed with yours, and the animalistic desire to consume you with his lust had your soul ignited.

Turning to the marble bench, you claimed your wineglass and raised it to your lips, immediately gulping back the tart liquid in a heaping swig. Placing the glass in the sink, you stared at the door Mihawk just left through, your thoughts spiraling and sifting through all the possible scenarios of what his words meant, and what the kiss means for you now.

Only Mihawk knew what he intended with the kiss, and after the morning meeting, he was going to give into his desires further and offer you a place in his bed to have his dreams become reality.

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jesuistrestriste · 3 months ago

Note

IMAGINE GIVING SUB!ART HEAD WHILE HE IS DRIVING

(I know we have never interacted but I binge read all of your mike faist characters fics and I’m obsessed with your blog so forgive me for intruding)

three hours, cross-state, is hardly a lengthy roadtrip, but you and art make it feel like one. packing snacks and making playlists for the ride. it's not often that you two will travel within the state; there have always been more occasions that require the two of you to fly. so, it's only natural for this to be treated like a fun little adventure.

almost like a date.

art's got a tournament tomorrow afternoon on the west side, yet he still insisted on being the one to drive.

after about an hour and a half, the songs start to loop back around in the mix and the lull of the highway's soft rumbling against the wheels makes the blonde's lids start to droop. it's warm inside the vehicle as the trees and fields of grass go by, and that only makes it harder to stay conscious.

and when you say something to art to try to get his attention, and he nearly jolts upright in his seat, you know you have to do something to try to keep him awake..

"baby.." you say, giving him a look that says 'cmon now'.

he sighs, blinking and trying to shake the sleepiness from his head.

".. 'm fine, i'm fine.." he tries to protest, fighting your gentle but accusatory expression. he fails. he yawns.

the sight of his tousled golden curls hanging over his forehead, and his strong hands gripping the steering wheel, is all it takes for you to start readjusting in the passenger seat.

you give a soft tug to your seatbelt to coax it to give you more range of motion, and then you're leaning over the empty cupholders between your body and his to start undoing the tie on his loose joggers.

art chuckles weakly and flushes tomato-red all over his cheeks, his gaze darting rapidly from your head hovering above his lap to the windshield.

"woah, woah," he breathes out, "i.. you don't have to do that. and isn't it a little illegal..?"

you smirk, grabbing onto the sides of his pants and pulling them down his hips to reveal just the top half of his boxers. just enough to get ahold of what you crave.

"do you want me to stop?" you speak softly and slowly, lifting your head up to look to his aqua blue irises. his pupils are massively blown, you notice them right away. he's already tenting in his briefs.

art swallows thickly. and then he shakes his head.

you nod, chuckling, and look back down to the last piece of clothing between your skin and his.

"ive got you, babe," you whisper, "just keep your eyes on the road and try not to get us in a wreck, yeah?"

he nods wearily, and a small jolt of his hips follows suit.

you pull down his boxers just enough to let his heavy parts spring out, and then you're leaning in to engulf his throbbing tip in your mouth.

art can't stop it-- he immediately lets out a guttural moan, low in his chest as his face crumples with the pleasure of feeling your soft, wet mouth suckle on his cock. one of his hands shakily reaches down from the steering wheel to affectionately rub over your upper back and neck.

"Ouungh— fuh-fuck..." he whines softly.

you hum around him encouragingly, beginning to bob your head up and down as you feel him swell over your tongue.

his back arches up from the seat, and his hand on your body tightens to fist at the fabric of your top like he's gonna burst.

"mmmph- mhmmm- mhmmm-" you moan around him. he groans, his eyes rolling back into his head, and he starts to needily buck his hips as you suck him in the exact way that always drives him crazy.

in the middle of taking him to the back of your throat, an involuntary hum of surprise is pulled from your chest as you feel the car swerve sharply.

you give a few playful but corrective pats to the side of one of his thighs, and he moans before he mumbles out a rushed 's-sorry, sorry'.

your tongue curls around his shaft, licking up the precome that's mixing thickly with your sticky spit, and you swear that you hear a couple stitches in your shirt tear as he pulls at it and shudders.

his eyes are on the road, but art's mind is wholly consumed by you and everything that you're doing to him. how is it possible for one person to know all of his weak-spots? everything that makes him want to spill down into your tummy as you milk him dry?

his thoughts of disbelief are cruelly interrupted when you begin to suck him faster, hollowing your cheeks and lapping at the underside of his cockhead as your palm strokes the base.

he lurches forward in his seat with a pained whimper right before his legs start to shake; his muscles tensing all over as he tries not to close his eyes and risk running the car off the highway.

"ohhh, shit, hah—please, i'm almost—“ he fucks into your mouth gently, waves of hot aching pleasure building up from his gut as he spares a few looks down into his lap where your head moves earnestly.

you don't hesitate; stroking and laving your mouth over him lovingly and passionately, making sure to hum around him in an effort to send some vibrations up through his pulsing length. you squeeze your eyes shut.

art can't hold back anymore. he just cant.

he's nearly curled over the wheel when his hips jerk once, twice, three times, and then he's crying out as he calls out your name and comes.

it gushes past your adoring lips, glazing them for just a moment before you swallow him down and let the walls of your throat squeeze around his cock.

your boyfriend is sobbing softly with overstimulation and ecstasy, writhing in the driver's seat. your hand only continues to move relentlessly though, stroking his oversensitive shaft and cupping his balls as he chokes on his words.

"oh, please," he whimpers out, fingers still tightly grasping onto your shirt, maybe even harder than before. his toes curl in his court-scuffed sneakers, and he slurs out an assortment of 'too much' and 'so sensitive' and 'i'm done'.

you slurp up his leaking parts and pull yourself off with a soft pop and smack of your lips, grinning as you sit up and look to his dazed expression; chest heaving, legs shaking, eyes lidded. his hand leaves your back to return to the wheel, but you dont miss the way it trembles against the worn leather.

your clean hand reaches up to push back his blonde locks, and he squeezes the steering wheel as he struggles to gain his bearings back. a chuckle leaves your saliva-slicked lips, and you lean in close to his ear as he pants like a puppy.

"you still sleepy?" you whisper lowly.

all art can manage is a soft shiver and a moan, but he shakes his head the best he can.

"good."

safe to say he drove the rest of the way to the destination without so much as a whiff of being tired. the only thing that bothered him during the remainder of the journey was the smug look on your face, and the way his half-hard dick wouldn't go down (no matter how much he tried not to think about your touch).

#🩷 - thirsts #heyyyy ! ! <33 #pls intrude im always so down for sub art ideas #hes my muse fr #by the way this is so incredibly late it isnt even funny and im srry abt that ..#i need to suck his dick #right now #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut

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spurbleu · 4 months ago

Text

lassitude ✩︎‧︎⁎︎

[ken sato x afab reader]

S. the first time you are vulnerable with Ken Sato, you are half asleep. and for the first time, he is willing.

warnings: none, split pov

a/n: sorry for my lengthy absence, it got extremely busy for me lmao. i dont really like this- but i feel like i cant do much to make it better so here it is

word count: 1.7k

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

The mumble of the morning stirred you from the pockets of your mattress. It was barely noticeable- the shift of the comforter- cool early air pooling between the hairs on your arm. The faint creak of the floorboards, (never good at keeping secrets) the spruce mumbling an Irish goodbye.

It would be a lie to say you didn’t see it coming. The sight of him.

Skin relearning to stretch over shoulder blades, peeking through your lashes in familiar foresight. The way his hands searched for his clothes through the birth of daylight- its first breaths placid against the bedsheets.

It all felt too beautiful- the apathy. Buried in lithe, lifeless blankets rather than the rhythm of his pulse, the plush of his embrace. The sudden emptiness of morning’s coffin, quilt seams ripped by the assumption that a goodbye wasn’t necessary.

Ironic- for how lonely the man seemed to be, he looked lethargic in the act of leaving. Near comfortable as he dressed, relief from the reclusive slump of his posture breaching a harsh breath that left the gaps of his teeth.

You were more awake now- enough to question why you cared.

He made it easy- cleaned up half the mess, took the other half out the door. And when it was time to ruin it again, he did it with kindness- gentleness in his absence. There was nothing you should’ve resented- he was doing you a favor. But you found yourself hating it more.

You knew it wasn’t a superiority complex- you were near equals as you slept next to each other. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, because you knew within the next 12 hours, he’d be back again, pale in the face of his own affair.

Confounding. The principle that if he knew he was going to come back, why leave at all?

It struck you then- the putrid smell of your own confusion. The anger you held in the bed of your heart, fueled by the weak and needy creature of your own vulnerability. Its chubby hands wringing the veins that curled around your ribs. It spoke for you.

“Ken.”

It was weaker than you thought it would be- no louder than a whisper. At first, I didn’t even sound like his name- only a pathetic mumble that spelled out his silhouette. It became a bit more tangible, louder, when he turned to face you.

“Good morning.”

He slung his bag over the dip of his shoulder, dressed in the clothes from last night. They were wrinkled now, creased in the same shape as your bed, your floor, your home. It was hauntingly poetic- how he seemed to carry you with him in the quietest of ways.

A crease formed under the base of his lips- a smile. Still dry in early hours- complimenting the tanned sections of his jaw- spring kisses breaking the occasional sallow of his face. It was small, but under the shadow of his tousled hair, it looked near blinding.

(But that was Ken for you, wasn’t it? Blinding. Bright in the ways that make the air in your nose cold- fresh. Humane.)

“…Do you…need something?”

Fuck.

You should’ve followed the script. Typewriter font, black indifference, pretending to be asleep when he crept out the door. Feigning casual when reading the ‘text later’ note he’d leave on the counter of your kitchen, next to a day old, crushed protein bar (although, it would always be your favorite flavor).

But instead, you sat curled into the headboard of your bed, sheets protecting your fluttering gut as sleep fogged the more cohesive thoughts. It peeled back, though, the sensitive ones.

You wanted him to stay.

Although it felt like the first time you had admitted it to yourself, you found the blemish of your confession everywhere.

The pucker of your carpet beneath his socks. The indent on the left of your mattress- matching the round of his shoulder. The cool breath that escaped your lungs- collapsing against the rim of your heart.

And in the brevity of nerve, the one that spoke his name with so little foundation before, you answered him.

“Stay.”

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

It’s the tilt in your voice that curves under his adam’s apple in a slow gulp- dry. The softer tones blooming under your tongue, coloring your bottom lip in a nude pink- stainless and genuine. Your lash line drooping into a word that looked foreign to the valley of your cheekbones.

Please.

He mirrored you. The slow breath that hollowed ribs, the sharper edges of his shoulders bending to the will of your own. Even his smile began to falter into the same wary, desperate line that creased the corners of your cheeks.

The effortless effect you had on him.

He knew it was happening, somewhere in the canyon of his bone. Mind disconnected from the marrow, as the better parts of him seemed to reflect every vice of yours. Although it was maddening, conscious clawing at the cushion of his skull, he had learned to embrace it.

Held it as he cradled you- bow of your spine splitting his chest in two- revealing the plusher parts of him, affection safely shadowed by the midnight and your snore. (He’d never admit it to you, but he sleeps better in your bed than he does his own. Although Mina suggests it’s about the company rather than the mattress).

Similar to your aftertaste, he was familiar with your vulnerability- a lot worse at hiding it than you might think.

The haphazard stack of protein bar wrappers in the trash (ashamed to say he counted, once. You’ve eaten every single one he’s given you). The grip on his sweatshirt when you pull him through your door- flushed fingertips eager on the cool metal of its zipper. Even while you sleep your body betrays, burrowing yourself into him as if somehow, you’ll leave a mark (equally ashamed, but just a bit more hopeful, he wants you to).

Selfishly, he loved it. How much you made him feel wanted- needed, even. How the cage of your chest opened for him, his nails the shape of a key as he dug into the softer parts of you. Grime dyeing cuticles red, and he’s convinced that if he asked to crawl within you, you’d let him.

Reluctantly, if so. Looking away, pink on your cheeks, spurred by the flash of his teeth. Unwilling to admit he had asked you before you could have offered.

A begrudging devotion.

He swallowed it, syrup sweet against the cast of his teeth.

“You want me to…stay?”

He let his bag drop to the floor, relishing that as he took a step closer, knees to the bed, the center of your throat bobbed. Contrast to your bold request, a shyness in the creases under your eyes and mouth. It reeked of yearning, and made an illness bloom on Ken’s tonsils.

You nodded slowly as he came to lay next to you. If he listened more closely and focused less on the cross of your arms, he would have heard your heart pulsing a morse that sounded dangerously, sweetly, like his name.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Classical, predictable, the way his smirk warmed the edges of his lips.

“Because you never do…” anxious- eyes searching excuses for the lack of a real answer- “…and the protein bars are getting old.”

A genuine laugh furrowed the flesh beneath his collar bone, morning voice still breaking from the aridity of unuse. “What if I left an apple this time?”

You leaned into his chest, pulling the covers to your shoulder. God, did you look good like this. Tucked into him, a little wanting, a little kind. “You’re so boring. If you’re going to leave, at least give me something good.”

Ken placed a hand to his wounded heart. “Boring? Since when is your favorite flavor of healthy boring?”

You sank back onto the mattress, and he followed you, now facing you with his hands folded under his cheek, squishing his dopey smile. Although he didn’t know it- he looked beyond childish- silly in all respects. But that’s what you liked about him, wasn’t it?

“Since the last 200 times.” You exaggerated, imitating him as you leaned on your own hands.

He searched you- not dissimilar to the way he accesses another player. The gate of their shoulder, the click of their jaw- or that slight competitive crinkle that tugged the corners of their lashes- angered by his run before he even hit the ball.

Being in the sport for so long, he had become accustomed to observing others- even from afar. Off the field, he’d find himself looking between the normalcy of strangers under the dark tint of his sunglasses. Envious- to live in blissful ignorance at their own open, bleeding hand.

He supposed that’s why he liked you. Equally as guilty of your own susceptibility- heart on your wrist. But goodness- even this close to you, he couldn’t read the glass over your eyes. As if you were those paintings behind velvet ropes- details clear from a distance, but fogged when you stand too close. Imperfections visible- but never telling.

(did Michelangelo find the Sistine Chapel just as beautiful from the floor as he did from his ladder?)

He hummed, a hand coming to trace the spring freckles that appeared on the plain of your cheek. His heart purred as he watched it bloom, every circle he drew spurring ripples of pink. He was so charmed- to see exactly what he did to you- so closely.

“Alright,” his hand drifted to the strands of hair that covered your ears, tucking it to see just a little more of your blush, “no more protein bars.”

You sighed against his face- and for a moment he was reminded how he had been there- on your lips. The stench of his own fervor- honey sweet between the cracks of its clay.

“Thank god- I was really getting sick of them.”

In his arms, you both dipped into a lullaby of silence, the sunrise cradling the fragile parts of your embrace. Those pockets of insecurity- the questions of why you asked for him to stay, and why he did. The looming assumption that this made you more than what you had been before- made you something, made it different.

You could have spent hours there, steeping in the change- elementary kids too scared to admit they ‘like-liked’ each other. Instead, you both fell asleep again.

࿓༚︎︎‧⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎༚︎࿓︎

When you awoke- you were alone.

Once you slipped out of bed, it was well past 11. Your light feet and sweltering head brought you to the kitchen counter- where you found a plate of eggs, toast, coffee, and a note.

----

Home Soon.

-Ken

ps. hope this is better than the protein bars.

#ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x you #ultraman rising #ken sato #kenji sato #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot

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the-lying-heavens · 15 days ago

Text

"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #bau team #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert

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missadangel · 1 month ago

Text

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Princess Reader)

All Chapters List

X. The Conflict (+18, Smut, MDNI)

“non est vivere sed valere vita est.”

Life is more than just being alive.

The distance from the city to the port of Ostia was not great, but the ride was rather lengthy and tiring, even for a seasoned rider. Octavius was ever watchful, noting when you were faltering and offering you a respite. You declined, though your body was crying out for it. Your sole concern was to reach Marcus before it was too late. Fortunately, a little later, Octavius noticed a few tracks on the ground as you passed through the dark woods, slowed down and dismounted his horse. He crouched down and examined the tracks then looked at you.

"We should continue on foot from this point onwards, my lady."

"Are we close?" You looked around but there was nothing in sight.

"Indeed. We must proceed with caution and avoid attracting attention. We need to leave the horses here," he said, holding the reins of his horse as he approached you and extended his hand.

"Thank you sir but I can dismount myself." You said and got down from your horse, despite the soreness in your legs. It felt nice to be able to step on the ground again. Unio let out a soft neigh, as if she had read your thoughts. You stroked her face and, grasping her reins, walked in the direction Octavius had said. It was quite some distance from the road and not very visible. In this darkness of the night, it would have been difficult to see anything if not for the moonlight anyway.

Once you had tied your horses, you set off through the forest, guided by Octavius. You eventually reached a hill. It appeared to be a rather tranquil. The only sound that could be heard was the hooting of an owl.

“My lady, if I might ask you to consider promising me something,” Octavius said.

You raised your eyebrows. “What is it?”

"If we don't make it in time, you'll come back to the villa with me."

“No need to worry about that now, if we make it in time, Sir Octavius.”

He sighed. “I'm pretty sure Acacius will kill me this time,” he muttered.

You looked at him with a hint of guilt. “I'm sorry, but you're doing this for him, for your General, your friend.”

"I hope he's already taken care of him and I hope we've came here for nothing. I'd be really happy to be reprimanded and even punched by him."

You laughed nervously. "Would it offend you if I said I hope so too, sir?"

He grinned. "Never, my lady."

"You are a good friend, Octavius.

"Always at your service.”

You were startled by the sound of a horse neighing and immediately sought cover behind nearby bushes. You observed that three horses were tethered in the forest.

"That's Dromos," you realized.

"We must be close," Octavius said quietly.

You soon heard the sound of swords clashing in the distance and moved at a slow pace towards it. When you saw Marcus from behind, you were on the verge of running to him without thinking, but Octavius grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you back.

“We can't let them see us,” he said, warning you.

He led you to move out of sight to the left, where you hid in the bushes. You observed the situation at a distance and noticed that Marcus cut a soldier with his sword made him collapsed to the ground. However he was alone, probably having lost his men. Macrinus, on the other hand, was standing just behind the five soldiers.

“General, you must cease this nonsense. You'll get yourself killed.”

“Not before I take your life first!”

Your heart was racing with worry. Even for Marcus, who was one against five men, survival was a near impossibility. Octavius stepped in front of you as you stood up.

“My lady, please wait here, I will back him up," he whispered, his hand moving to his sword.

Just then, you heard horse hooves and three horsemen appeared, coming towards them from ahead. Macrinus let out a laugh. Octavius swallowed and looked at his General, unsure of what to do.

At the time you thought you had to stop it somehow, knowing the fact that Marcus won't stand much of a chance. It seemed that he had no intention of retreating though. Furthermore, he assumed a defensive stance, grasping his sword more firmly.

You reached out to grasp Octavius' arm as he began to step towards them.

"I must stop them."

Octavius opened his eyes wide. "But how, my lady? No, return to your horse now, and-"

"No, please hear me out. I don't believe Macrinus will harm me. And Marcus won't let him go no matter what. Besides even with your help, you can't beat all of them. This is the only way.”

Octavius seemed unsure. "What makes you so sure that he won't harm you?’

“Think about it. He has known me for quite some time.” You observed them from behind the bushes. It seemed as though Marcus was contemplating an attack. “If he wanted to kill me he would have done it when we were alone, but instead he made me appear before the council, why do you think?”

"To help you regain your title and gain formal recognition."

'Well, it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart, of course. I believe that when he ascends to the throne, he thinks it would be beneficial for him to have a strong consort that he values in his council." Your voice cracked.

Octavius clenched his jaw. “There is no stronger consort than a princess,” he muttered. Then opened his eyes wide. “If he kills the General-“ he swallowed, words caught in his throat.

“I won't let that happen. So step aside and let me stop them.”

Octavius nodded in despair. "If things don't go well, I'll be here to ensure your safety and that of the General. I'll do my utmost until my last breath.”

You nodded and took a deep breath, moving slowly through the bushes. Just then all five men and the others drew their swords making a schwing sound echoing through the woods.

"General, this is my final warning. It is not possible for you to survive this." Macrinus called out to him.

Marcus was aware that, regardless of his considerable strength as a warrior, it would be extremely challenging to fight against such a large number of soldiers. But retreat was not an option for him. He had to take Macrinus down and make sure his head was severed from his body, no matter what. If he could do that, he didn't mind facing his own death in the end. He was only afraid of being separated from you; he had no other fears at all. He was truly grateful for all those beautiful moments he shared with you. Getting ready for a confrontation, he pointed his sword at the soldier charging towards him. Just as he was about to attack, you suddenly jumped in between them, yelling.

“Stop!"

With determination, you swiftly drew your knife from its sheath on your ankle, holding it firmly in one hand as you prepared to execute your seemingly absurd plan. Marcus opened his eyes wide, looked at you in surprise, and then glanced around.

"Aurelia! What the hell are you doing here?" He yelled.

"My lady!" Macrinus was shocked too. Keeping his distance, moving towards you behind the soldiers, equally bewildered.

"End this, please." You said without looking at either of them.

"Go back, now!" Marcus shouted, knowing full well who had brought you here.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," you protested.

"I have to finish what I started. Now, go!” He hissed.

He brandished his sword at Macrinus's men once more, determined not to back down. You, however, had no intention of letting him get himself killed. With no other option, you put your knife against your neck. Marcus looked back at you, astounded. As your eyes met, Macrinus, as you had suspected, grew concerned and approached you.

“That knife looks pretty dangerous, my lady. I think you should give that to me.”

“Stay back!” You shouted at him, “Don't come any closer!”

“Are you mad? What do you think you're doing?” Marcus roared. He was boiling with anger.

"I'm a medicus, aren't I? I know exactly how and where I should cut to kill myself without suffering."

Marcus clenched his jaw.

"Do you wish to kill yourself, my lady?" Macrinus asked.

You looked at him, feeling the sharp surface of the knife, it made you tense but forced yourself to stay calm. Also, it seemed like a good opportunity to see if your theory was correct.

“You don't want me to die, do you, Sir Macrinus?’

He raised his hand as if he wants to stop you. “No, of course not, my lady. Please put that knife down.” He looked at Marcus. “Acacius, I think we're done here.”

Marcus looked at him with a piercing gaze. “This isn't over, Macrinus.”

He laughed, then his gaze hardened as he looked at him. “You'd better be on the right side when the inevitable happens, General, if you care enough for your wife.”

“If not today, rest assured that I will end you.” Marcus growled.

“It would only be to your detriment,” he said, his eyes shifting to you before he nodded and turned. He tapped one of his soldiers on the shoulder. “Sheath your swords! We're heading for the harbour!” He jumped on his horse and the soldiers followed him behind.

Marcus turned his head towards you and came up to you angrily, snatching your knife and pulling so hard that you stumbled towards him.

"Why did you come here? How dare you hold a knife to your throat?" he barked. His voice was loud enough to make you startle. "I didn't give you this to cut yourself! Don't you value your own life at all?"

"You're the one who doesn't value your own life!" You shouted back. Marcus frowned. "What's the matter with you? Do you think it's worth risking your life trying to kill him? You know how it feels when you lose someone you care about. How can you be so selfish? Have you ever thought about what I'd do if you died? You're so mean.”

As your tears rolled down your cheeks, Marcus' expression softened. He approached you, took your face in his hands and gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs. His dark brown eyes spoke volumes, but he was so angry that he remained silent. After staring at you for a while, he pulled his hands back and looked towards the bushes.

"Octavius! I know you're in there, get over here now!"

The bushes rustled and crunched loudly. As soon as Octavius set foot on the dirt road, you noticed the tension on his face despite the darkness. He came up to you and bowed his head to the General. Marcus gripped him by his leather armour in his fist and pulled roughly.

“Since when have you begun to disobey my orders?”

“Forgive me, sir. I was wrong.”

“I forced him, Marcus,” you interjected.

He ignored you. “I told you to protect her, you shouldn't have cared about what she said to you. You should have stopped her, Even if it meant locking her up or tying her up, it would have been better to do so.”

You laughed hysterically. “You can't be serious.”

He turned towards you. “I'm quite serious, my lady. Instead of risking your life in such a ridiculous way, you would be safe."

You rolled your eyes. "I wasn't really intending to kill myself. I just wanted to be sure of Macrinus' intentions, but you were so determined to sacrifice yourself without listening to me, so I didn't know what else I could do.”

“We'll talk about it when we return home,” he said, pointing his index finger at you. Then he turned and approached his soldiers lying lifeless on the ground, sorrow evident in his eyes. “Octavius, make sure the funeral rituals for our brothers shall be arranged.”

“Yes, sir.” He approached him, kneeling next to a soldier and closing his eyelids.

From a distance, you watched them and found yourself blaming yourself. Perhaps if you had arrived sooner, you could have played a role in saving their lives. Or, if you had come later, Marcus might have faced a similar fate. You shook your head and tried to put these thoughts out of your mind.

While Octavius tended to the deceased soldiers, you and Marcus returned to the villa on horseback. It was just after midnight. The vast majority of the villa's residents were awake and gathered in the courtyard, awaiting your return. Marcus remained silent all the way back, likely still enraged at you. You were no different. It was torture to think that you had nearly lost him because of Macrinus.

Cato respectfully took hold of the reins of Marcus' horse as he jumped down. You dismounted too, noting that your legs felt a little sore from the long ride. As soon as you landed on the ground, you felt a momentary loss of balance, but Marcus' arm caught you. You smiled at him. Even though he was angry; he was still there to protect you. However, he did not smile back. Instead, he took hold of your wrist and pulled you towards the courtyard. Furthermore, he was not as gentle as he usually was. He did not care when you moaned from the pain in your wrist. He took a quick glance at everyone in the courtyard who greeted you and pulled you towards the stairs. When you turned your head, you saw their faces. They seemed grateful for the safe return of their Dominus, but perhaps a little worried about you. At least, that was your interpretation, because you knew you were in trouble.

He shut the door behind you. You were glad when he released your wrist, as it started to throb. You knew it would be bruised by the next day. Marcus put his holster away while you rubbed your wrist with your other hand. You went over to help him remove his armour. He was aware of your intentions and leaned against the edge of his desk with his arms folded. There was blood splattered on the Medusa's face and on the leather strips of the armour. You gave Marcus a direct look as you undid the armour's threads. He was still frowning and staring ahead. He still seemed to refuse to look at you as you undid the other side.

“You know you're not the only one who's angry, right?”

He then turned his head to you as your fingers unraveled the threads a little harder.

“You can't be any angrier than I am.” He took off his armour.

You crossed your arms, “Why not, I can be just as angry as you.” You lifted your head and looked away stubbornly.

Marcus was trying not to laugh at your behaviour. He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat.

“No way, princess. I'm more than angry; I'm fuming!”

You looked at him as he walked towards you. His gaze certainly showed his anger, but when you noticed the hint of mischief at the corner of his lips, you decided to continue playing this game. He was removing his armbands.

“Fuming? Hah! I'm furious!” you shouted sarcastically.

He threw the armbands on the floor and came right in front of you. This time his gaze was intense.

“I'm filled with wrath!” he growled.

You involuntarily took a step backwards. “So?”

He appeared to be relishing the opportunity to engage in this somewhat heated, sexual tension-filled game, as he took a few steps towards you.

Suddenly, your back slammed on the wall. He lifted your wrists above your head and leaned in.

"I think you deserve some punishment," he murmured, his breath caressing your ears and causing your body to shudder. He pressed his pelvis against yours and his lips found the vein on your neck. He sucked and nibbled at it, sending a tingling sensation throughout your body. His lips trailed from your neck to your chin, and you found yourself longing to touch them.

You took a sharp intake of breath. He teased your lips with a slight touch before retreating. You leaned forward, aiming for his lips, but you failed. He smirked. His right hand roughly removes your cloak and undresses you, while his left hand keeps a strong hold on your wrists. Your dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet as the hem caught on the scabbard tied around your ankle. Marcus bent down, untied it and pulled it off. Suddenly, he grabbed you by the legs and threw you over his shoulder. Before you could blink, you were on the bed, gasping for breath. Your stomach tightened with excitement when he emerged from above you.

But he still hadn't taken off his tunic, you thought angrily.

It seemed a bit unfair that you were the only one who was naked. He pushed you back gently when you reached towards him. "Not yet, princess." His hot breath hit your breasts, making you squirm. You were infuriated when he roughly spread your legs with the palm of his hand. Was he going to enter you before your lips met and traveled over each other's body, before his hands caressed your breasts? That's what he called punishment?

You bit your lower lip as you felt his strong fingers on your most sensitive spot. But his fingers lingered, moving in circles. You wanted to sit up and look at him, but he pushed you backwards with his other hand. After teasing your clit with his fingers, which made you clench the sheet, he grabbed your hips and buried his head between your legs. He deliberately blows into your folds, making pleasure run through your body. His erection sears your skin, making you aware that he's getting pleasure from driving you mad with his mouth. He flips his tongue and sucks your most sensitive area hungrily, relentlessly. You moan loudly and your response encourages him to increase the pressure. He is an expert in the art of pleasure giving and he uses you as skilfully as he uses his sword.

“Marcus,” you groaned, you're almost sure that your voice echoing in every corner of the villa. Feeling almost at the edge. You feel him smiling as he moves his lips and touches your body with his warm tongue and fingers. But he retreats suddenly. You moan in protest. You open your eyes to look at him. Panting. You feel a surge of disappointment and a distinct sense of being used. But he laughs cruelly. He wipes your sweet liquid from his lips with his thumb, then licks and sucks the tip, smiling crookedly all the while.

You frown. “So that was your punishment?”

“I was actually going to do more, but…" He quickly takes off his tunic, throwing it on the floor. “I missed you so much and I want you so badly right now.”

“Take me then.” You smiled naughtily.

He smiles back and grabs your arm, using his soldier strength, he turns you and bends you over until you're crouching on your knees. One of his hands is still holding yours behind your back, and the other keeps your torso down so your breasts press against the silk sheet. You wriggle, and his grip tightens. Gods! You haven’t ever felt so helpless. Used like a toy. He keeps teasing your lower wet lips with the tip of his erection. His voice is husky, sensual. “How will I take you, my sweet princess?”

He digs his fingers deep into the cheeks of your butt. This position feels raw, animalistic but pleasantly erotic at the same time. “Shall I take you this way?” he asks without stopping his hungry attack. His warm breath, and beard tickles your ear, and waves of hot pleasure wash through your skin. As though your body is a toy, he forcibly turns you again, and now your under him once more. One hand holds you immobile by your throat. The other grabs your hip. "Or this way?" he says as his now-soaked tip presses against your entrance, bringing shudders and ecstasy into your squirming body. You moan loudly, pressing his lips to yours roughly, silencing you.

He’s taken full control of your body and won’t share it with you. He’ll take you in any way he wants. And, yet, because your body is yearning for him, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop, this was a huge turn-on for you. "Marcus," you whimpered. "Please, I want to be yours. Take me now. Pretty, pretty, please." You begged.

He smiled and let you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you. He was as impatient as you were, but he was determined to keep this fun and heated game going. He was having fun rubbing his lips against yours and making you whimper a little more. For him, there was no comparison to watching you squirm to be his. But he couldn't wait to be inside you, and when he finally pushed his length inside your walls, entered you roughly, your body trembled with pleasure. You felt euphoric when his mouth finally met yours. You enjoy him kissing you with incredible hunger until you forget to breathe. With each rough thrust, you instinctively dug your fingers into his back which made him lose it, deepening the kiss, turning it into a carnal mating of mouths. He bit your lower lip, and you moaned with both pain and pleasure. He released his bruising grip, the hard press of his lips, and rolled onto his back, taking you with him. He seems a little worried, but when you giggle at him, he grins and buries his head between your breasts, licking your sternum all the way to your neck. He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, your back hitting his chest. He kisses your shoulder, nuzzles his nose into your hair and finds your ear.

“I want to take you this way.” His hot breath hits your ear as he caresses his way up your neck, making you shiver.

He practically has to arrange your limbs himself as he folds you forward onto your hands and knees and settles behind you. He wrapped his arms around your torso, entering you from behind, and you moved together, as one, never once breaking your intimate connection. When he increased his rhythm, one hand gathered your hair on one side of your neck. His lips traveled from your neck to your exposed shoulder, while his other hand wrapped around your waist. This position made you feel his length much deeper inside you. Your mewl-like moans were added to his and harmonized with the slick sound of each thrust. it sounded like your own special music. Marcus' hands slid under your arms to your breasts and cupped them. You threw your head back in pleasure, bumping into his shoulder as he kissed your neck repeatedly. With his forehead and brows covered in sweat, he sensed that the end was near and his hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and reaching his climax at the same time as you. You instinctively leaned forward as he filled you with his warm liquid, but he caught you and wrapped his arms around you tightly. He groaned loudly and his hot breath washed over your ear. You felt his nose on your cheekbone. His hand cupped your chin, turned your face to his and kissed you passionately. As you wrapped your arms around his neck and turned towards him, he pulled out of you and pressed his forehead to yours, both of you panting. Your eyes were closed, savouring the moment as the sweat mingled on your forehead and ran down your cheeks. You opened your eyes as Marcus placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He brushed back a few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead, also caught in your eyelashes. You looked into his eyes and looked at him.You spoke with your eyes for a while, then he frowned. He took your face in his hands, his expression serious. You were unaware that you were crying until his thumbs wiped away your tears from your cheeks. He bent his head and kissed your eyelids and long eyelashes. You nuzzled your head into his neck and he wrapped his arms around you. You couldn't stop your sobs and tears. All the emotions you felt seemed to take over your body at once.

His fingers ran through your hair. “My love. From now on, I won't risk my life easily,” he said in a velvety tone. “So please don't cry.”

You nodded and sniffled. Marcus kissed the top of your head and pulled you down with him onto the bed. You snuggled into his chest, realising how much you missed him even though it had only been a few days. It was late at night and the only sound in the room was the two of you breathing.

“I guess this has become a habit for me,” Marcus broke the silence.

You raised your head and looked at him. You ran your eyes over the sparse beard on his chin, greying in places.

"I've always lived my life like this, always fighting, battling, killing. It's the easiest thing I can do." His fingers traced the curve of your spine. “I was never afraid, not of death, not of losing. I just fought. It was easy because I had nothing to lose. That night, when I was poisoned, I knew it was time for my eternal rest. I felt relieved, not afraid, but ready.”

You swallowed, thinking about that night for the first time in a long while.

"But then I saw those eyes and they gave me the purpose to carry on living." He tenderly touched your cheek with the back of his hand. You raised your head to meet his gaze. He was already looking at you.

“Now I have a responsibility,” he smiled. “My weakness.” He bent his head and stroked yours with his nose. “A beautiful reason for me to die for.” His lips ran through your forehead. "Dying for Rome is easy, simple. But for you, my lady, it's hard, painful. The thought of never seeing you again.” He exhaled deeply. “It puts me in agony.” He frowned. “Just when I saw you put that knife to your neck so recklessly. It was painful too. I'm still angry with you for that.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him. "I feel the same way, Marcus. I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurts me to think of losing you. I couldn't sit idly by while you risk your life. I'd never be able to bear to lose you." Even the thought of it made you shudder.

He sighed and turned his head towards you. “You won't lose me. There is nothing more important to me in this life than you. How whole and at peace I feel when I hold you in my arms when I'm deep inside you. The reason is you, princess. The reason I wake up every morning with a smile. The reason I am eager to return home from my duties. To you. So I don't want you to do one more thing to put yourself in danger.”

You kissed his chest. You wanted to say more but his words were so beautiful, you couldn't object. You felt tired from the horse journey so you snuggled closer to him. Before he wrapped his arm around you, he covered you both with the sheet. You were finally about to get the peaceful sleep you had been longing for for days. In his arms.

When you woke up in the morning, the sun was high in the sky, but it wasn't its light that woke you up. Instead, it was the gentle caresses you felt on your legs that roused you. Your hand moved to the side of the bed to feel the sheets, but Marcus wasn't there. You opened your eyes when the caresses on your legs were replaced by nibbles. Was he under the sheet? Your eyes opened wide when you saw Marcus's face, smirking at you from between your legs.

“Morning, princess.” His boyish and mischievous grin spread all over his face. “May I?”

“What are you- Ow!” You gasped when you felt his tongue on your most sensitive area.

Expertly, he was licking, biting, sucking, giving you incredible pleasure this early in the morning. You had now discovered all the men inside his enormous body. The honourable man, the dominant leader, the fearless warrior, the poet, the loving husband, the romantic gentleman, the expert lover full of lust, the child inside the fourth year old man.

You smiled when the lustful expert lover has taken you to the sky full of pleasure. It's empowering to know that it was you who drove a powerful, dominating, strong beast like him mad. As you descend from the sky, he settles on top of you, placing kisses from your legs to your belly and then to your breasts and chin. He kisses your eyelids and asks you to look at him without telling you. Now that you know him so well, you immediately obey. Since you are already so ready for him, he enters you easily. He wraps his arms around you, you throw your hands back and clench the sheets. Your body curves backwards and he speeds up his thrusts. You try to suppress the urge to close your eyes tightly. He realises and finds a new solution for you and presses his forehead to yours. You smile when your eyelashes touch. But then, when he gets closer to the edge, also gets deeper into you and increases the pace tremendously, he buries his head in your collarbone. You wrap your arms tightly around his neck. And once again, you ascend to the sky. This time, you feel immense pleasure. You feel a few bites on your neck. You look at him, your eyes alight with wonder, and marvel at the beauty of the man that is coming undone inside you. He tightens his arms around your waist and moans as he reaches his climax. His body collapses on top of yours, his arms loosening. It's so beautiful to watch him as you feel his heated breath on your neck. To feel his heart thudding violently against his chest, the way your bodies connected. You both savour the glorious, euphoric feeling of being in love. Your breathing returns to ease, you feel him soften inside you and he lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms.

"Do you have any duties today?" you ask as you run your fingers over his chest.

"Yes, first I have to meet with my legates, then I have to go to the barracks. I believe there may be someone spying for Macrinus. It would be beneficial to find him before he returns to Rome."

"Didn't you say you'd already found him?"

"No, he was Julia's." His voice was sharp. You were sure he killed him. It must have been very hard for him though, a soldier from his own troops spying for someone else. After a moment or two of silence, you asked him to change the subject.

"Am I forgiven?"

“I’m thinking about it.”

You sat up in bed, intending to study his face, but suddenly a feeling of nausea hit you and you fell back. Your neck hit his shoulder.

“Oh…" You put your hand to your head. Your vision was blurred, closed your eyelids.

“My love. Are you alright?" There was concern in his voice. He sat up in bed and wrapped his arms around you.

You opened your eyes and smiled at his worried face. “My head is spinning a bit.”

“It's almost noon. You've been sleeping for a while.”

“Noon?" You hadn't realised it had been that long. You were usually up early, woken by the rooster. Perhaps it was because you hadn't slept well for a few days without him. Maybe it was because you hadn't slept properly in his absence for days. "But did you wake up first and await me?"

"That is correct, but then I became somewhat impatient if you remember." he winked.

You smiled shyly. He graciously kissed the top of your head. “My lady, I believe that you may be hungry, are you not?"

You yawned and nodded. “Indeed I am. I must admit that I am rather famished after my longest horse journey.”

He laughed. "I'll tell them to prepare a lunch for us. I must then take my leave.”

Once Marcus had departed from the villa, you wanted to check on the girls. Norell and Decima were sitting together in the courtyard, weaving rugs. You stood nearby, observing them. Decima was from Egypt, so she was used to weaving and her hands were moving with practiced ease. She mentioned about it before.

"My lady, would you care to try?" Decima asked.

"It looks very intricate," you hesitated.

Tullia came into the courtyard with a laundry basket. She made a slight gesture of respect with her head as she caught sight of you. You observed that she was walking with a slight limp. She seemed to be in pain.

“Tullia, your leg seems to be bothering you."

She put the basket down and let out a sigh. “My knees, my lady. I guess it's because I'm too old now.”

"Let me take a look," you said gently, walking over to her. Despite her objection, you helped her sit down in the chair and examined her knees. Given her late fifties age, you diagnosed her with rheumatism, given her late fifties age.

"I think I know what will be good for you," you said, walking to your private clinic-like room. Tullia's eyes widened when you returned with the hemlock jar.

“Isn't this herb poisonous?”

You smiled. “Yes, and potentially deadly.” You teased her.

“Gods, my lady, please forgive me if I've made a mistake.” She placed her hand on her chest.

“Please calm yourself, Tullia. It is indeed a very poisonous plant. However, it is also very useful to the body. I'll make you a tea of this, you drink it every other day, understood?’"

She was still looking at you weirdly.

You laughed. “You do trust me, do you not?”

She nodded. "I am grateful to you, my lady, for ensuring General's safe return to his home. So, I have great trust in you.”

You smiled. ”I imagine you must have known him for quite some time.”

"That's correct. I've been fortunate to reside in this villa for as long as I can remember."

"I see. Then you knew Marcus's father, the Dominus'?"

"Yes, my lady.”

She had been with him for many years, residing in this villa. She had likely witnessed his childhood, his youth, his unhappy marriage, everything. You felt a bit envious of her, as though she knew more about him than you know about Marcus. But you were also grateful for her loyalty over the years.

“It's the first time I've seen him alive,” she said, surprising you.

“How do you mean?” You demanded.

"Dominus. He would prefer us not to call him that, not after his father. I must say that after you came into his life, I felt like I didn't know him. He was rather solemn, and it was rare to see him smile. But now I see that he's really alive. It's so pleasant to see him like that. I'm really grateful for that, my lady."

You put a hand on her shoulder. "And I'm grateful that you have cared for him over the years, that you have served him, that you have looked after him."

She put her hand on yours. "It is my duty," she said, smiling softly.

“Domina!"

You both turned your heads to the slave who came running towards you.

“My Lady, the Imperial guard has arrived.”

You inhaled. "Am I being summoned?"

The slave looked at you with hesitation and bowed his head, which meant affirmative. Decima came to stand beside you. "Shall I come with you?"

You grasped her hand. “Yes, please.”

It was your brother Geta who summoned you this time. You weren't particularly curious, but you felt it would be a good idea to pay him a visit. You couldn't help but feel a little concerned about him, though. Besides, it seemed like a good idea to stop by the poorhouse on the way back. You were keen to find out how the children are doing, since you missed them. By the time the imperial carriage arrived at Palatine Hill, it was already late afternoon. You came to realise that you didn't miss wearing stola much since it was difficult to get used to the feeling of being tangled in their feet. And the knife Marcus gave you wasn't helping at all. It seemed a little odd to wear it on your ankle when you couldn't actually use it properly, but you had promised him after all. Geta was waiting for you in the great courtyard. When he realised you, he came running to you with a wide smile, his arms outstretched.

"Aurelia, you've been missed, sister!" He embraced you. You flinch every time he does this, but he deliberately ignores it.

"I'm really curious to know why you called me here."

"Come, let's talk while we drink. Shall we?" He led you to an armchair in the courtyard. You sat down next to him, and adjusted your dress to cover the knife on your leg.

"Wine," Geta ordered the slaves.

One of the slaves poured you a glass of wine. Decima was standing right next to you.

"So, you ordered the guards to send food to the Poorhouse," Geta said, taking a sip of his wine.

You brought your glass to your lips, but the smell was unappealing, so you put it on the table, and pushed it forward with your fingers.

"I did. Or, are you angry with me for this?"

Geta laughed. "I can't possibly be angry with you. However, I believe this is an unnecessary expense."

You glared at him. "Surely it's not as unnecessary as a tiger?"

"At least the tiger entertains us, sister. What is so interesting about those people? Nothing. I have not yet informed Caracalla of this, so you'd better end it before he becomes aware of it."

You leaned towards him. "You are not fully aware of the gravity of the situation, so you speak with undue levity. Would you be willing to abandon those children to their fate?”

He exhaled loudly. He pretended not to care, but he was thinking.

"If you'd like, I can show you. Caracalla doesn't need to know. Trust me, it's a lot cheaper than what you spend on other unnecessary things.”

"No way I'm going there!"

You sighed and stood up. "You do as you wish," you said, with a hint of sarcasm. "I was just considering paying a visit there." You glanced at him, took a step forward. He stood up too, grabbing your arm from behind.

"You've only just arrived, stay a little longer." He sounded like he was begging. He was looking at you in a strange way, you averted your gaze.

"I'm a married woman, I have responsibilities. And those children are one of them." You looked at him again. "As Emperor, you have responsibilities as well. They are your people too. You could come with me and see for yourself. If you are not convinced, I will not bring it up again. I promise."

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, you win. I'm coming with you.”

He stepped towards to the entrance, but you stopped him by tugging on his arm. "Perhaps you might like to consider changing your attire?" You asked, running your eyes over his fancy toga.

"What's in my attire?" He looked down at himself.

"Well. Your bronze crown, your gold embroidered toga, your gold bracelets, necklaces, and rings, need I say more?’

"Or do you want me to dress like a commoner? Never!" He frowned.

You rolled your eyes at him. It was futile to try to persuade this stubborn boy. So, you gave up. "Very well, as you wish, Your Majesty.”

His frown vanished and he smirked.

As you made your way across the courtyard towards the gate, you became aware of a few murmurs and turned your head in that direction. A group of people were heading into the great hall. Their attire differed from that of the members of the Senate.

"I had completely forgotten they were coming today," he said.

'Is there an official meeting with Caracalla?'

“Our relatives,” he murmured.

You regarded him with a look of surprise. “You were correct in your assumption,” he said, observing them from a distance. “The execution of Gaius has caused some distress within the dynasty in Leptis Magna. They have come here to speak with the emperor.”

"And what about you? You are the emperor as well."

He shrugged slightly. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure he will make a decision similar to the one I would have made."

"Which is...?"

Geta's face suddenly became serious. Without answering, he pulled you towards the gates roughly. But you clearly heard the sounds of screaming and shouting coming from the hall. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Did he murder them?” Your voice cracked.

He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you into the carriage. "They killed themselves at the very moment they set foot in Rome, Aurelia.”

It seemed that Decima was attempting to sit next to you, but he indicated the seat opposite. He then sat right next to you. You couldn't focus on them staring at each other, the screams still echoing in your ears, and continued to torture you all the way. All this brutality felt so wrong.

When you arrived at the Poorhouse, the children noticed you and ran towards you with huge, beaming smiles on their faces, gathering around you with cheerful laughter.

“Princess Aurelia!”

You smiled at them. They then looked curiously at your emperor brother, who was standing behind you. The guards approached Geta, looking a little wary. Geta covered his nose with his hand. With a somewhat displeased expression on his face he extended his arm towards them as if warning them.

“Don't you dare come near me!” He yelled.

“They're just children,” you muttered.

“But, they're filthy,” he grimaced.

You rolled your eyes and went over to the boy you had met earlier. It seemed that the mother and baby were doing better. You asked Decima to bring your bag and, as Medicus, you examined the woman and her breast milk, which was now coming in. Geta observed you as you treated a few wounded and sick people. He maintained his distance, of course. Since these people had only seen his face from a great distance before, their jaws were dropped open when he appeared before them in all his majesty.

The provisions have been brought as you requested. But it didn't seem to be enough to feed these people, yet they were happy and grateful.

"I should also provide some new clothes for them," you said, approaching Geta.

He folded his arms and looked them up and down. His expression had become somewhat more gentle, as though he was lost in thought. He seemed to be deeply affected by the unfortunate situation he had witnessed.

"You were right after all," he murmured. "They really do look rather poorly."

You looked at him. "Your Majesty, you have decided to extend a helping hand to these people?"

He locked eyes with you for a moment, his expression hard to decipher, but he seemed happy. Then he cleared his throat. "I would never allow them to pollute the streets of Rome." He turned to one of the guards. "Do as Princess Aurelia says. Make sure you provide what is needed here. And if you dare to speak to my brother about this, I will have your tongue cut out myself.”

The guard bowed his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you, brother. I believe there may be some good in you after all."

He frowned. "I'm not sure if that's meant as an insult or a compliment."

“Perhaps both.” You stuck your tongue out at him and laughed. You were just trying to make him laugh and your intentions were innocent. But he wasn't laughing. In fact, he was looking at you seriously in a way you'd never seen him before.

"Don't laugh at me like that." His voice was sharper than his gaze. “As if you don't belong to someone else.”

You swallowed, his eyes looking at you with a dangerous intensity. You averted your eyes.

“My lady,” Decima came to your side. She was holding a bowl, without even turning your head, you could smell what was in it. The smell of meat was intense. You felt like your stomach was cramping.

“Hot, freshly prepared food has arrived, the children are eating. Would you like to have some too?”

Instinctively you covered your nose with your hand. "No, Decima, could you keep that bowl away from me?"

"Ah, it seems we have some things in common after all. I think it looks disgusting too." Geta said with a displeased expression. "Well, I think I've seen enough, I want to leave now." He turned towards the carriage.

He raised his hand and beckoning you to join him. As it was nearing dusk, you were keen to return home, so you nodded in agreement. However, as you began to walk towards him, your vision blurred, and your feet betrayed you, causing you to collapse on the ground. When your cheek touched the cold cobblestone, you felt a severe headache. Then everything went black. The last thing you remember was Decima and Geta's concerned voices mixed together with the voices of children.

You felt slight shaking of your body, which prompted you to wake up. Your headache was still present, opened your eyes slowly. The first thing you saw were the golden curtains glimmering by moonlight, which entered through the long window. Next to the window was an armchair with golden details. It seemed as though everything in the room had a golden hue. You realized that you had been in this room before. You were beginning to regain consciousness. You then sat up.

"Sister, I hope you are feeling a little better?"

You opened your eyes wide and looked at Geta, who was lying next to you. On the bed. His bed. You let out a scream in shock. He flinched.

"WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE?” You quickly checked yourself over. Your clothes had been took off, and you were wearing a white, almost see-through tunic that didn't just belong to you. “What happened to my clothes?” You yelled.

Geta covered his ears with his hands. “Ugh! Could you please stop screaming? You're hurting my ears!”

“What have you done to me?”

He laughed loudly and hysterically. "Apart from making you clean up and bring it to my room? What was I supposed to do? You collapsed on that awful, stinking street. Should I have let you stay in your filthy clothes? It was gross, so I had them thrown away."

The slaves must have dressed you, at least that was a relief. But you were still very angry that you had been put in this embarrassing situation. You realised that his eyes were roaming over you. You grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to your neck, covering your body.

“Get me some decent clothes now!” Your voice was slightly trembling with anxiety.

Geta raised his eyebrows, he pointed his index finger at himself. “Did you actually say that to me? You have no manners at all. You don't know how to talk to an emperor.” He teased.

You moaned in response, placed your head in your hands and rested on your knees.

“Please, call Decima over here.”

"I want to know why you fainted. Tell me, are you sick?"

He touched your shoulder, you pulled yourself back and got out of bed. It is almost nighttime now. The mere thought of Marcus coming to Domus Severiana and seeing you like this made you shiver.

"Girl!" Geta yelled towards the door.

Decima and Geta's slave entered the room together, both looking at you with concern.

"Make sure you dress the princess properly. Otherwise she'll be torturing my ears with her squeaky voice all night." He said, squinting at you.

You ignored him. When the girl left the room to bring you a stola, Decima came over and held your hands.

"Are you alright? You frightened me.”

"I'm fine, but we should return to the villa now."

‘"Indeed, you've been unconscious for a while, it's almost midnight."

"Midnight?" You bit your lip.

Now that was something to worry about. You were sure Marcus would be here soon. Luckily the slave girl came with a stola and began to dress you. You heard footsteps and then a knock on the door.

Geta was still sitting on the bed, wine in his hand. With his permission, a slave boy who came in looked scared. “Your Highness, my lady. General Acacius-“

“Aurelia!”

Marcus's booming voice made you feel like you were on the verge of fainting again.

Geta grinned. "This is going to be fun."

You warned him as he was leaving the room. "Please don't say anything ridiculous to him.”

He shrugged. With your heart beating like it was going to burst out of your chest, you urged the girls to hurry up. Geta left the room. You tensed up even more when you heard him calling his name. Finally, the girls finished dressing you as quickly as they could, and you left the room, heading for the stairs with Decima who was trying to catch up with you. As you descended the stairs, you saw him and locked eyes with Marcus. He observed you with a keen gaze. You bit your bottom lip. He then looked at the stairs that belonged to Geta's chamber, then at Geta himself. Suddenly he grabbed Geta's collar with his fists, causing everyone to become tense.

"Have you gone mad Acacius? What do you think you're doing?” Geta barked.

“Marcus!” You ran towards them.

The guards drew their swords.

“What have you done to my wife?” He roared.

“Get your hands off me now!” Geta warned.

“Marcus, please, it's not what you think.” You grabbed his big hands and tried to pull them away from your brother's collar, but it was like moving a marble statue.

“You don't seem to be taking good care of your wife like you promised.”

Marcus tightened his grip and shook him angrily. “What are you saying?”

The guards approached the two of them, their swords pointed at Marcus.

“General Acacius, I warn you.” One of the guards said.

Marcus ignored him, his dark eyes locked on Geta’s.

“Your wife fainted in the middle of the street. I wonder if you were aware that she's been sick.’’

Marcus then withdrew his hands, released him. You exhaled in relief. Geta ordered the guards to put their swords away.

Marcus stepped towards you. "Is that true?" He sounded concerned, touching your face with his hands.

You grasped his hand. "I felt unwell for a moment, but I'm fine now."

Marcus observed your face a little more. Then put his arm around you and glared at Geta. "We shall take our leave now."

Geta shouted behind you two. "You're not even going to ask for my forgiveness, Acacius?"

Marcus answered without looking at him. "With all my heart, no."

You turned your head and looked over your shoulder at Geta. He looked angry and annoyed. You gave him a faint smile.

"Your Highness, shall we stop him?" One of the guards gripped his sword once more.

"Just give us the order, Your Highness."

"Shut the hell up! Leave me alone, all of you! Get out of my sight!" He shouted at them and walked towards his chamber. Caracalla watched the whole thing from a distance, he was looking at his brother coming up.

"You're so pathetic." Caracalla chastised.

"Don't you start!" Geta barked at him, walked towards his room, and slammed the door.

It was well after midnight by the time you arrived back at the villa. Marcus still seemed a little tense, which made you wonder what he was thinking. He was looking at your ankle as you walked to your room. He stopped in front of the door.

“I do not see your knife.”

You looked at him, you had no clue.

“Here, sir,” Decima said. She came up the stairs and stood beside you. She was holding your scabbard in her hand. She handed it to you. “After you fainted-“ She avoided Marcus's stern gaze, turning her eyes to you. “I'm the one who dressed you so I kept this.”

“Thank you, Decima.”

She smiled. “If you'll excuse me, sir, my lady,” she bowed and turned to head for the stairs.

Marcus closed the door behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and guided you to sit on the bed, then sat down next to you.

"My love. Are you sure you're feeling well?" His hands touching all over your face.

How can I possibly feel bad when you touch me like this? You thought.

"I suppose I do not need to bring a Medicus for you?” He smirked. “So, what is your diagnosis, lady medicus?”

You smiled. “Hmm, I think I became a little nervous when I-“ You swallowed.

“Continue, please.”

"Caracalla. He had our relatives from Leptis Magna killed. I didn't see them, but I heard them…”

Marcus frowned, clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it to his forehead. He then closed his eyes. “That scum. He must be out of his mind for sure.”

You put your hand on his shoulder. "How do you mean?”

He then stood up. You went over him, untying the strings of his armour.

"Macrinus. He has a majority in the Senate. He managed to eliminate Gaius and his supporters. Caracalla is his instrument. It is likely that he will announce him Commander of the Praetorian (Imperial) Guards imminently. I should have killed him last night." He banged his fist on his desk, almost startling you.

You took a deep breath. “Then why did he go to Libya?” You helped him take off his armour.

"I believe there is a possibility that he is raising his own army. I haven't heard from the legions in that area for some time now."

"His own army?" You shocked. You hadn't realised how serious things were.

"If my suspicions are correct, yes. He also would want to incorporate the southern legions into his own as well."

"Your legions?"

“I'm afraid so.” He turned his head towards you. "I may have to go there soon."

You cringed and your chest hurt. You weren't expecting this at all.

Marcus realised the look on your face and put his arms around you. "I'll have to kill him sooner or later. And them too." His voice was sharp.

Surely you were aware of whom he was referring to.

“I will not waste another generation of young men on their arrogance and vanity. I will not allow Macrinus to use your brothers' trust and start a civil war that will harm Rome.”

“Caracalla, yes, but maybe Geta-“ the words seemed to stick in your throat.

"Are you defending him to me?"

"Absolutely not." You shook your head. "I was just thinking he might make a good emperor.”

"Please Aurelia. I assume you're not meant seriously.”

"He's not like Caracalla. I believe you are aware of that. I don't think you are truly inclined to kill him."

"I was considering it. When I saw you coming out of his chamber..." He pursed his lips, trying to be calm.

You tensed as you remembered that moment. "I'm truly sorry about that." You bowed your head. Marcus placed his hand under your chin and gently lifted your face to look at your eyes.

"He didn't touch you, did he?" His brown eyes were almost black.

"No, Marcus. Of course not."

He grabbed your face in his big hands, pulled you towards him, you stumbled with the sudden rush of his. "I am the only one who can touch you. You are my Aurelia. Mine."

"I am indeed, Marcus.”

"Say it," he demanded. "Say that you're mine. I want to hear it from your lips."

"I am yours." You said softly.

He smirked and bent his head, kissing you roughly almost forcefully. His skillful hands were not gentle while undressing you in a hurry. When you were completely naked, he scooped you up and put you on the bed. In the blink of an eye he was on top of you and then inside you. While he’s having you roughly, his lips, his tongue, his teeth travelled over every possible part of your flesh. Marking you. As if physically claiming you. Making you his.

The sun had just risen when you opened your eyes. But it wasn't its light that woke you. It was the sudden pain in your stomach and the feeling like you'd been punched. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hand, attempting to suppress the urge to vomit. You hurried out of Marcus' arms and ran to the latrina. He was roused from his slumber by the sound of the door closing with a resounding bang.

“Aurelia?”

You were too distracted by feeling unwell to focus on his concerned voice. You splashed water on your face to feel better after violently throwing up. Suddenly you felt Marcus's hands on your shoulders. “My love?”

Your stomach was still causing you pain and you found it difficult to speak. Also, your head was spinning, so you took a moment to lean against the wall. Marcus quickly took you into his arms and carried you to the bed, sitting next to you.

“My lady, I'm really starting to worry now.”

“No, please don't. If I get some rest, I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” He took your hand in his hands.

You nodded and smiled at him. But his face showed concern.

“Perhaps I could stay here with you today.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door and Cato came in with Marcus's permission. He gave you both a nod. “Sir, I am here to inform you that the soldiers you have been expecting from the south have entered the city at dawn. The Legates have requested an immediate assembly.”

"Is that so? At last, some good news." He said, then looked at you with uncertain eyes.

You smiled at him and touched his hand with yours. "Please do not concern yourself with my well-being. Just leave. It must be important."

He leaned towards you and kissed you on the forehead. "Have a good rest, my love. And please be well." He kissed your hand before leaving the room with Cato.

After a while there was a knock on the door again. Decima brought breakfast for you.

"My lady, are you feeling better?"

"I believe so."

She approached your bedside. "Would you like me to feed you?”

You laughed. “Dear, please. Hopefully I'm not in a situation that requires me to be fed." You got out of bed and walked towards to the chair. You weren't exactly starving, but you knew you needed to eat to feel strong. You asked Decima to join you.

"My lady, well I am. I've been thinking it over.”

“Hmm?”

"This nausea you're feeling, the headaches. I wonder if...’ When she looked at you suggestively, you swallowed and looked at her, taken aback.

You'd never thought of that. As a medicus, you were confident that you didn't have any other underlying health issues. On top of that, it had been a few weeks since the wedding and you hadn't had any monthly bleeding since then.

"Gods," you murmured. "Could it really be?”

Decima took your hands, seemed excited. "I think so. Have you ever examined a woman carrying a child?"

"No, I've only assisted women in labour. I know how to run a consultation though. But it's still too early to be certain."

Decima smiled widely. "I hope you're with child."

You couldn't help smiling back. "I hope that too. But we should keep this between us for now."

"Indeed, of course.”

“Domina!” came a voice from behind the door.

“Come in.”

The slave boy from yesterday came in, his face was worried again.

“Am I being summoned again? Please tell them I'm sick and having rest.”

"You're not being summoned, my lady.”

“What's the matter, then?”

He bowed his head, as if he didn't know what to say.

“Tell me.” You demanded.

“If you can come down, you'd better see for yourself.”

You exchanged glances with Decima, then got up and left the room. As you were making your way down the stairs, you almost lost your footing when you saw the person standing in the courtyard.

“Lady Domna?”

Julia was waiting by the fountain in a black cloak. She looked a bit worried and uneasy.

"May I ask what you're doing here?"

"We need to talk." She said in a commanding tone.

You suddenly felt tense as you remembered your last conversation with her. What the hell was she doing here?

'Do you usually keep your guests waiting without offering them a seat?'

You rolled your eyes and gestured to the armchair nearby. “Have a seat.”

She sat down in a rather arrogant manner. “Leave us,” she told your slaves. But they were looking at you. Julia was annoyed.

You sat opposite her. “Leave us alone please," you said the slaves with a smile. They then bowed their heads and left the courtyard. Decima too, she nodded.

"Your slaves don't know how to behave." She muttered.

"Could you please tell me why are you here? I thought you were in Syria?"

"I've recently returned. Never mind that. I need you to help me with something."

"My help? Why should I help you?"

"Because I believe you would want to.”

You crossed your arms. "What are you talking about? Speak clearly, please."

Julia sighed. Then leaned closer to you with a sharp gaze, whispering. "I need you to help me kill Caracalla.”

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matd0 · 5 months ago

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Hello guys

I had to take a pretty lengthy break from pretty much all social media, super sorry for just disappearing like that.

bunch of stuff happened, I moved back to my parents’ house, tried to focus on school, got kicked out of school lol, went through a pretty rough patch over all :´D

I’ve been trying to work on just pretty much getting my basic needs met every day (eat enough, sleep enough, drink enough water, shower, etc.) and even though it’s a bit of a struggle i think I’m starting to feel pretty stable and happy again. yahoo :3 !!! so yeah i feel well enough to be perceived on the internet again 👍

Since i’m currently a jobless dropout, I should have time to post more stuff i think (this is genuinely something i love, and all I rlly want is to make stuff that makes others happy so thank you all for supporting my goofy and dubiously cringy creepypasta posting)

List of things and stuff I want to do/post/focus on:

- commissions. nbr. 1 priority (unfortunately i become a bit of a perfectionist when i get paid to draw something T_T)

-reply more to asks. It’s fun and I want to interact more with people (just need to beat up the anxiety demons)

-literally just draw more.

-maybe perhaps even post about the eyeless jack AU story thing i have been brewing in my mind…….. maybe.

-also i’m trying to do artfight again this year. bit dubious how much i’ll actually get done but oh well.

Anyway, thanks for reading lol.

here's a couple of little sketches for you o7

#creepypasta #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta art #eyeless jack #ben drowned creepypasta #ben drowned #mh brian #mh masky #i hope you have a great day today and tomorrow :]#remember to drink waster srsly

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brailsthesmolgurl · 6 months ago

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LOSE YOU TO LOVE YOU

Preview: You had to lose your lover to protect them against harm but what happens when someday, fate connects the two of you again? Warnings: Angsty but yes to fluff too, slightly-slightly suggestive towards the end! this is gonna be a bit of a lengthy read as always

P.S: This is an extremely detailed request by one of you guys, its a bit challenging for me to write it hence I decided to take it upon my own twist for the story. Or else, I might actually get so demotivated to write this piece and I do not wish for that. Overall plot would still be half-preserved but I had decided not to use any names just for the overall inclusivity for other readers. Great ideas should be shared and I think my readers would like to be included too in this wonderful plot :)

"What...what have you put into this y/n?" Rafayel stumbled, the mug slipped out of his hand when his legs started buckling beneath him. He was in disbelief as he watched the mug broke upon impact against the hard tiled floor. It was like time had slowed down for him and he could only blame the orange juice he had drank. "Y/N!" He calls out to you again, hands now clasping onto his slender neck when he slowly crumpled to the ground. Yet, his calls for you fell upon deaf ears, four walls on each side of the room watched him suffer.

You peeked over the heavy door leading to his room and your eyes watered at the sight of your fiance lying motionless on the ground. Knocking him out is the only way you can think of the moment you were threatened by an elite group of assassins. They are the reason behind his bounty value--that had exceeded by two million-- and they presented the only option for you to 'save him' is by leaving him.

They cornered you on one of the days when you were out dealing with Wanderers. Although you are fairly combative, one woman against a dozen of elite assassins would not grant you a survival route. Hence, you were practically forced to listen to their proposal. Not much details were disclosed to you about why they were willing to retract the bounty for your fiance but you figured if he could live a better and safer life without a bounty hung on his head then why not? Even if you were to be at their disposal.

"Leave him and he shall walk like a free man he once was." You remembered the grim voice of a man as he relayed the terms and conditions to you. "We do not seek a confrontation here as you are with child."

Flashing back to the present, you lightly rubbed your belly, still wondering how they know of your pregnancy when it was not even announced to Rafayel. This further tells that those assassins are not to be messed with. "I am sorry." You knelt down beside your lover, studying his peaceful features as he was snoozing. "I am sorry I have to do this to you. I promise you that I will be back for you when the time is right." Pushing yourself off of the floor, you left without turning your head back. Each step taken ripped your heart out of your chest even more.

Years had gone by, with you disappearing off of the grid and went into hiding. During then, you had been living under a pseudonym, revamping your whole image and identity to go full on undercover. You did this because you did not want Rafayel, nor anyone from your past to track you down. However, peacefulness does not last long when news of Rafayel’s bounty is on the rise again and it got you wondered what he could have done to piss them off. You did some digging yourself. With the help of your new identity, you can slip in and out of the clubs without a worry. Eavesdropping just enough to get the information you need to propagate further in tracking down the same man who once threatened you to leave Rafayel.

The trail has led you back to Linkon City and you stood at the balcony of the unit you had rented, overlooking the scenic view of the concrete jungle below. The city has changed a lot since the last you had been here and that is probably years ago. “Mummy.” A child-like voice snapped you out of your reminisce and you looked down, watching the toddler walking up to you. A perfect photocopy of your ex-lover; with dark purple locks smooth to one’s touch and eyes the same as his hair. He is like a doughy-faced version of Rafayel. The child that you bear while you left Rafayel now stood in front of you, eyes full of hope before another similar face joins him. Yes, you gave birth to twins. The other is yet another photocopied version of Rafayel, but adorns the eyes as deep as the blue sea. That is how you manage to tell them apart from one another.

“Mummy you okay?” The blue-eyed toddler followed up with the question. Although only been in this world for three years, the both of them had grown so much, not only in terms of height but also knowledge and other aspects that would commonly be found within a toddler’s growing age. They inherited Rafayel’s artistic talent; always doting on painting to pass time whenever you are home with them. Whereas from you, they certainly are highly adaptable and smart. “We go for walk mummy?”

“Yes, let’s go for a walk.” You stood upon and went over to the front door to grab your coat, handing the twins their coats as well. “Put them on alright, the night is going to be chilly and I do not want you guys to be sick.” Out of habit, you slotted your baseball cap right over your head. It is a good strategy to not stand out from the crowd when you get to shield parts of your face at certain angles. You grabbed your wallet and phone and proceeded to walk out with the twins.

Nights in cities are never boring; with bustling traffic and chatters hailing from crowds. This was what you had missed out on for the past years. Staying by the countryside does have its perks but still, you missed the noises of a city that is alive. Dank pathways were sprawled out at the park as you walked with your toddlers by your side. The rain had just subsided and it smelled of dew and silt. But, something seemed off. There were hints of metallic smell in the air, a smell closely resembled to fresh blood. You stopped in your steps and started scanning the area, your ears perked up to maximise picking up even the slightest of gales. “I’m scared mummy.” Your toddler had seemed to pick up on the shift of aura as well.

A twig snapped and you too, snapped yourself towards the source of the sound, shielding your kids by pushing them behind you and hands dug deep into your coat, ready to draw out your weapon if danger ensues. Your eyes were narrowed into slits, relying on dimly lit street lamps to highlight the bushes in front of you. “You know what you should do right?” You looked down, watching your toddlers nod towards you. They were already trained from young to flee should there be any situation that requires them to. Both of them have a watch equipped with a navigation system that will lead them directly to the nearest police station or anywhere that is a confirmed safe house for them. With that, you ushered them and watched as your kids held hands with one another and started to tread lightly out of the park, the watch illuminating their way.

You pulled out your gun the moment an amorphous figure emerged from the bushes and before it could reach you, it burst into flames, screams of agony like a banshee on a killing spree tore through the empty park. Luckily, your children had already fled and a beep on your watch notified you that your kids are safe, and they are currently back to the unit that you had rented. You lowered your gun and stared at the tallowing figure in front of you, the blazoning red tinge of flames looked familiar, it was as if you had seen it—“Y/n?” You blinked, looking up to find another figure emerging from the same path taken by the man who had now disintegrated into ashes and blended into the night skies. “Is that you?”

“Rafayel?” Your jaw dropped, watching him emerged from the bushes. It must be because you missed him so dearly that your mind decided to deploy a mirage of him amidst danger right? It’s like those final wish scenes and you could not help but feel goosebumps slowly drawn to the surface of your arms. “You’re not real.”

The man in black clomped over and you stumbled backwards, gasps fleeting out of your lips as you thought you just saw a ghost. “Careful.” The grip on your arm gravitated you back to reality. You are now staring right into the eyes of your ex-lover, the same guy you thought was killed because there were no news of him anymore. The same man that you were forced to leave in order to protect his safety. The love of your life, the father to your twins. “You are back.” He enveloped you into his arms, his breath disheveled, his tone of voice ebullient. You were expecting a frustrated Rafayel, not forgiving you for leaving him, not acknowledging your existence because you had left him so suddenly without a reason.

Yet, you could not seem to fathom his current state as he held you tightly in his arms. Rafayel had been nothing but the bearer of a deft husk of a ‘widow’. Ever since he woke up to an empty home, he became relentless. Thomas too, was greatly affected by his melange of emotions. Everyone else who worked around him were forced to be more obsequious than ever, showcasing utmost sycophancy in fear of getting panned by the artist. For he had went through a change of heart, thirsting only for revenge upon the group of people that took away his lover. Succour was indeed offered by Thomas, to seek out information regarding your whereabouts. Rafayel agreed and thanked him, providing him all of the money needed to seek you out but deep inside, he knew that finding you would not be a simple matter and his worry haunted him further.

The walk back to your place was awkward, one-sidedly perhaps. Rafayel had not stopped talking, telling you about his journeys of tracking down every single one of the members of the elite group and threatening them to spill their guts about your whereabouts. Given that you left him on your own will, none of the men knew where you had migrated to and that literally got their guts spilled afterwards. He then went on, telling you about how he had handled the truth of you leaving him, that, when it came to a certain point in his life, he was the one that caused you the suffering instead. His words did travelled into your ears, but it was not being processed properly as you were too occupied on thinking about how does one tell their long time lover that they had became a father without their knowing?

The both of you stood at the front of your door now, you praying quietly to yourself, hoping Rafayel would not freak out if he were to meet both of your twins upon stepping into the entrance. You imprinted your thumbprint on the scanner and the door unlocked with a crisp click. Two sets of footsteps were heard clomping towards where you stood and you looked over to Rafayel immediately to analyse his reactions towards your twins. “Mummy— who’s this?” The both of your twins immediately froze, being only a couple of steps away and their eyebrows were strewn together in confusion. The father of the twins stood frozen too, eyes darting in between the two toddlers, noticing the familiar and yet uncanny features of theirs.

When Rafayel got to the leader of the elite group, he was foretold that you were pregnant when you left but he supposed that he was unable to take a grasp of time after you had left. Both of the boys are a bit taller than kids of their age, both rocking the same purple locks as his, pallid and flabby cheeks that Rafayel was certain to own when he was younger back in the days and not to mention, the both of them got your lips. Every lip motion is a total reflection of you. “You were pregnant with them when you left me right?” You took the note that Rafayel does probably know of the existence of you having a child but maybe, he is still in shock, not expecting twins at all. You nodded in response to his question.

Rafayel got onto his knees and smiled, tears started jerking around in his eye sockets, tainting his purplish-pink eyes a glassy tint. “I am your father.” He opened his arms to the twins but your kids cautiously looked over to you, awaiting for the confirmation as they had never seen their father before. Upon noticing your nod and smile, the twins squealed in surprise and hurtled themselves into his arms. Just like that, a family reunion happened.

“You already got them to bed?” Couple of hours later, Rafayel had placed the two reluctant twins of his to bed. Given both of the kids had been longing to have a father figure in their life, a few hours of interaction with Rafayel are definitely not enough for them. However, bed time at 9pm came to be an obstacle for the twins. Yawns started replacing laughs and Rafayel knew it was time to call off play time and switch to story time. You would usually read them to bed and Rafayel thought it is a great idea to put the kids at ease by telling his story, portraying himself to be the main protagonist set out on a journey to save a princess and to rescue her minions as well. The princess being you and yes the minions are the twins.

“Yeah, they could barely listen to my story for five minutes.” Rafayel plopped down next to you on the couch and extended his arm across your back, an invitation for you to lean against his shoulder and you did just that. “I might have went a little hard on them for the tag game.” That explains the heavy stomps and patters of footsteps coming from the room and hallways just now as you were taking a rest. You settled your longing gaze on your fiancé, realising that years had done no harm to him. The same hairstyle that he wears without much styling, the same siren like eyes that only holds you as the apple of his eyes, the same moles that were dotted across his face and the same warm smile he could ever emblazoned onto his features when it comes to being around you. He never changed.

As your insecurity started to settle upon you, particularly towards your own looks. Where time and stress has taken a toll on you, imprinting its effects with fine lines and wrinkles on your face, painting dark circles under your eyes and causing you to constantly wear a fatigued smile. “Do I look different to you even after all of those years Rafayel?” You peered up to him.

“My love.” Rafayel’s warm hand came up to caress your pinched cheeks, you had indeed became much more thinner than he last seen you, before you left him. He knew you must have not suffered any lesser when you had to constantly be on the run while having to bring up both of the kids by yourself as well. But, part of him was grateful that you no longer had to run, for he had eliminated every single member of the damned association. “You still look the same as how you always were.” His eyes wandered, down your cheeks and to your lips and back up again, lust wriggling its way through his gaze. “I missed you dearly my wife. I promise you that no matter what happens ever again, I will not let anyone convince you to leave me anymore. For I, will take full responsibility for the safety of our family.”

Your eyes reflected like glass under the dim lighting, words of affirmation coming from your lover after such a long time seized all of the rumination in your head. You did not notice the streaks of tears till you felt the pads of his thumbs swiped across both sides of your cheeks, his hand now fully cupping your small face. “Now, may I take the responsibility to care for my wife and to make love to you all night to prove my love to you?” The words he spoke were laced heavily with romance and lust that he had held back for years and little did you know, he is going to give you another child and make up for all of the lost times with you and his children.

A request from @cherriejoyponce, fulfilled with my own twist. Hope you like it!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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fizzing-imagines · 2 months ago

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Teenage Pregnancy Series | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Notes: Billy does not get taken by the mindflayer in this one, aka he gets a happy ending. Please read the note about this series

Warnings: Mention of divorce, teenage pregnancy, premature birth

Word Count: 3.8k

Your dad didn't mess around when it came to you.

Once you told Billy that you were pregnant with his child, he was gone. Out of fear for his reaction, you didn't tell him for a whole month, and once you did he left. No phonecall, no visit, nothing. He wasn't even at school.

After a week, your father was fed up and drove over. You were his little girl, his everything, and he couldn't stand to see you cry every day. Neil greeted him at the door, God knows he couldn't stand him, with a gruff "Yes?"

"Good afternoon Mr. Hargrove. I was looking for William." Your dad never called your boyfriend by his nickname. Neither of you knew why, he just didn't. Maybe it was part of his army veteran exterior. "What's he gotten himself into now?" Your father knew about Neil, and how he treated Billy. If anyone was going to beat him up for how he's treating you, it would be him. "I'm planning a birthday surprise for (Y/N) and I wanted to include him."

Neil let him in the house, where he strutted into Billy's room. Without a knock, he swung the door open and then closed it behind him again, to not let Neil know what was going on. Billy was laying on his bed, smoking and starring at one of the posters on his wall when your dad grabbed him by the collar and held him against the wall.

"Son.", he started. "And I call you son because I have never treated you like less than a son. I don't know who you think you are, abandoning my daughter but you're coming with me right this second to apologise."

It all happened so fast that Billy was starring at him like a deer in headlights. Your dad wouldn't hurt him, he knew that much, but he also didn't expect this kind of confrontation. "My child is two months pregnant with your child. No matter how unfortunate the circumstances are, it's also your responsibility." Billy knew your father was right. He didn't want to disappear like his mother did, but he was scared to turn out like his father. But he would never admit that to your father.

"Right.", he simply said.

"So we're driving over now. And flowers are just a nice extra to a lengthy apology, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir."

20 minutes later, you heard your father pull into the driveway. You just finished crying for the countless number of times this week when the door unlocked. "Hey dad.", you said as you turned around the corner, just to see not only your father but also Billy with a big bouquet of flowers in his hands. "Got someone for you.", your father said while walking over. He placed a kiss on your forehead and whispered "Dig your heels in." to you before walking into the backyard.

"(Y/N).", Billy said quietly. You silently stepped up to him, to which he gave you the flowers. "Thank you.", you whispered. Of course he'd get your favourites, although you were never sure if he even remember which ones you liked best. "I'm...really sorry..." Immediately, you started crying again. This felt surreal to you. "Why?" was all you could sob under your tears. Something rare happened, something you'd deem extraordinary: Billy started crying. He never cries. "I'm scared.", he admitted. You quickly put the flowers down and pulled him into a hug. "I don't wanna end up like my asshole father." Emotions poured out of him. Honestly, it overwhelmed you a bit. Between him disappearing and not knowing if there would be a father for your child, him letting his emotions out was a lot. "I didn't mean to, (Y/N), I'm sorry." You held him through his tears, whispering that it was all going to be fine, that he won't have to do it alone. Billy was scared. But he'd be more scared of loosing you.

"We'll manage, okay?", you said after a while. By now, you were laying on the couch, Billy between your legs with his head on your chest. "We'll manage, no matter what. No Neil, no shitty family. We'll have our own." He was tired from crying and only let out a small hum in response. His hand found yours and intertwined with it. "I'll never leave you again, I promise.", he mumbled after a while before kissing the back of your hand. Despite the pain he caused this week, you were happy to have him back. To hold him again, and to be so vulnerable with him. "Do you wanna see it?", you finally asked. Your boyfriend looked up at you. "See what?"

"The baby."

Billy raised his head with a look that showed that he was thinking of what to reply. Finally, he said. "Yes." Both of you got up to walk into the kitchen, where your father has put the sonograms on the fridge like a proud grandpa. You took them down and handed it to him. "Baby was 5 weeks in this one.", you explained as you pointed at the first one. Honestly, there was nothing more but a small white dot. It didn't look like anything, but both of you knew that. "And this one is from two days ago, so we're at 9 weeks." It was much more visible in the second one. You could point out their tiny arms and legs, but especially the head. "Really photogenic, always lays perfectly to point everything out." The joke went over Billy's head since he could stop starring at the picture. That was his baby, in his girlfriends stomach, that he made with her. Billy couldn't help but immediately fall in love with the small life he created. He pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. "That's out baby."

"Yeah, that's ours."

"I think we'd all agree that it's best if Billy moves in with us.", your dad said during dinner one night. Billy was over every day now, not wanting to leave your side if he didn't have to. But those words caught him off guard. He looked at your dad, then you, then back to your dad. "Are you serious?" He started grinning, a rare sight to your dad. "You'll be 18 soon, no? Neil can't stop you then." Your boyfriend was in deep thought for a good while, before your dad added "You'll wanna live with your child. As long as one of you gets a job, you can live here rent-free." It was moments like these that showed your father's no-bullshit policy. He was a very honest and direct man, and it showed right now. "You're right. That would be great, honestly." Billy smiled at your father. "Thank you, sir." Your father gave him a nod of recognition before continuing to eat.

"Two more months, then.", you said to Billy that night as you laid in bed. His fingers were tracing along your stomach, feeling the slight curve the baby in your stomach was making. "You have no idea how much I want to get out of that shithole.", Billy said, still touching your belly. "I'm not just imagining the bump, am I?" You laughed a bit. "No, it's there. Although, tiny. He or she doesn't seem to like the attention of a baby bump." Billy looked down at you with a small smile before leaning into a kiss. He made sure to pour all the love and care he had for you and your baby into it, and it worked; you felt like you were floating. "I love you.", you whispered against his lips once you separated. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you on top of him. "I love you, too."

Both of you remained quiet for a while, enjoying each others warmth. You started feeling sleepy and closed your eyes, until Billy asked you a question. "Do you wanna know if it's a boy or a girl?" That wasn't something you thought about yet, so you started thinking. "I don't know. What about you." He bit the inside of his cheek while thinking. "I don't wanna know. I'd be scared a boy would turn out like me, and I don't want to ruin your pregnancy." A soft smile spread on your face and you leaned fowars to give him a quick kiss on his cheek. "Alright. It'll be a surprise. But we gotta pick out names for both."

"Julia for a girl.", Billy said in a heartbeat. Julia was his mother, who he told you so much about.

"Julia for a girl.", you agreed.

"Billy.", you mumbled as you woke up. It was three in the morning and you craved nothing more than some icecream and coke right now. "Billy, baby.", you continued until he finally woke up. "What?", he groaned while rubbing his eyes. "I want icecream.", you said while playing with his hair. He turned his head to look at the clock on your nightstand. "It's three in the morning.", Billy complained before turning back around, trying to fall asleep again. "Please.", you whined as you shook his shoulders lightly. "I'm scared of the dark, Billy." Your boyfriend groaned again before sitting up. "Okay, let's get you your icecream."

He watched you eat your chocolate chip mint icecream and gulping down three cans of coke while leaning against the kitchen counter. "You happy?", he whispered to not wake up your father. You nodded your head with a wide grin, and that made it all worth it for him. The baby bump was growing bigger each day and now, at it was undeniable even while you wore his shirts. Billy saw the life you two made growing in you each day, and it made him finally feel like he had a role in life.

"But you're brushing your teeth again after this.", he whispered after a while. You simply nodded while shoving another spoonful of icecream in your mouth. As you finished the third can of coke, he already got you another one from the fridge. "You're the best boyfriend ever.", you whispering after he set it down next to you. Those words made him feel so warm inside, so much so that he leaned foward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"Even with icecream smeared around your mouth, you're still the sexiest woman on this earth.", he rasped in your ear. It send a shiver down your spine. He whiped the sticky residue from your mouth while you put the icecream down. "I think I'm craving something else now.", you whispered.

Never have you seen Billy put away food and dishes as fast as he did right now.

Billy had to be honest to himself, he didn't mind that your second trimester made you horny and energetic. Especially now that he finally moved in the moment he turned 18 and had you to himself all day, he was enjoying your company. And even more when it was the weekend and your father was at work.

"Oh fuck, Billy! Shit!", you moaned loudly for the third time this day. Billy was buried inside you all the way, filling you up like he'd be able to impregnate you again and doing his best so you could find your release. Your legs wrapped around his waist to keep him in place while you came down from your high. "Fuck, Billy...", you groaned. He slowly pulled out of you and laid down on the spot next to your body, where he pulled you up to him. "You feel incredible.", he mumbled into your hair. You were so glad that he matched your newfound libido. Billy pulled the blanket over both of you so you wouldn't get too cold.

"You okay, baby?", he asked while running his fingers over your spine. With a small nod, you hid your face in his neck and savoured the way he smelled. It became your favourite scent over the last few weeks. "I'm so happy it's the weekend, I wouldn't survive a schoolday with you around." Billy chuckled a bit before kissing the top of your head. "The showers are free most of the time.", he reminded you.

"I know, that might be how we ended up here."

"You really want to walk the stage waddling like a cow?", one of the basketball players asked you while you were showing Chrissy the graduation dress you wanted in a magazine. Not only yours and Chrissy's, but also Billy's head shot up. If there's one thing he would tolerate the least, it's anyone disrespecting you. "What the fuck did you just say?", he asked in an aggressive tone. His fellow teammate started stuttering his words, knowing he royally fucked up, but it was too late. Billy already got up and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Say that again." Peoppe from other tables were looking already, just waiting for Billy to get violent. "Fucking say that again.", he repeated. You felt anxiety rise in you; you didn't want him to hurt someone else because of you. "Billy, stop.", you said while standing up yourself. He glanced over at you, visibly pregnant with his baby. And then he remember what he told you: He didn't want to be like his dad. So, he let go of his teammates collar and walked back over to you. "Come on, I need a breather." Your boyfriend took your hand and walked outside with you.

"I'm proud of you, Billy.", you said as soon as both of you were alone on a bench. "I know it's hard for you to controll yourself." His arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. "I made a promise, to you and our kid." He can't admit this in public, but your words made him so happy. Honestly, he can't remember the last time someone told them their proud of him. But he did whisper a "Thank you." to you.

Billy pulled you on the couch to cuddle as soon as both of you came home. At 27 weeks, finding the right position became hard, but he somehow made it work. "You're a softie, Billy.", you giggled while putting your head on his chest. His heartbeat was calm, but it was your favourite sound. "Only for you.", he replied whole stroking through your hair. Your hair kept falling out for the past few weeks, but he didn't care about that. It was part of carrying his baby, and he was grateful for all the work you put in. "One more trimester.", he then said after a while. His hands found your belly and caressed it carefully. The baby's response was a kick, and Billy was ecstatic. "They kicked.", he commented with a smile. And they kept kicking for a good while before calming down. "They usually kick when you're being a soft baby.", you grinned at him, to which he scoffed lightly. As a response, you stretched your neck to kiss him on the cheek. "We like it, Billy. A lot. And I feel very honoured that only we get to see you like this." Billy didn't like admitting to it out loud, but there was no denying that you were his only soft spot. "It's a secret.", he mumbled.

"Of course, baby."

"We can't really put everything where it belongs yet.", you said as you unwrapped the fresh paintbrush. "But we can paint the walls, and at least build the furniture."

One out of two guest rooms was the designated nursery for the little one. Since you two decided to not find out the gender before the baby is born, there was no princess or dinosaur theme to do. But Billy wanted to include some beach elements for decorations, and paint the walls a sandy yellow. "You're not building anything, I'm doing that." He barely let you carry your books to school. But now that you both finished your last finals, there was a lot of time to put up the nursery. The guest bed had to stay until after your graduation since your mother and sisters would come to Hawkins for your graduation. Honestly, you didn't want them there - especially your mother always had a reason to complain. Now that you were 18 and pregnant, she had even more to bitch about. Plus, your sisters are just like her. That's why they stayed with her after the divorce and you moved with your dad.

"You're gonna have fun with my family, they're a bunch of cunts.", you said while giving the paint a stirr. "Not something I'm not used to.", he commented while covering the furniture he pushed into the middle of the room with a plastic cover. "You haven't had my sisters hit on you yet.", You watched him cover the bed and nightstand while speaking. "They can try all they want, you're the only one I want." Billy helped you stand up from the ground, then kissed your forehead. "I know. But they're just...something."

He put his hands on your bump, feeling the small kicks from that the baby was doing. "They didn't give me a roof over my head, or a child. They can get fucked."

"You look beautiful.", Billy said as he pulled you closer to him. The bump was big and round, making it impossible for Billy to pull you to him completely. Kicks hit his own stomach as your baby was kicking up a storm in you. "See, he or she agrees." Both of you laughed, you a bit more than him. "Thank you, Billy."

Both of you went downstairs to meet the others; your father, mother and two younger sisters. While your father gave you a rare smile, the other three looked less than pleased. As much as you didn't like them, it still hurt that they couldn't at least retend to be happy for one day. But that didn't matter that much while watching your dad fuzz over having to take pictures of you and Billy. Once he was done, you went to grab your gowns and Billy walked into the kitchen to fill your watter bottles. The constant dryness in your mouth was the most uncomfortable side effect, especially when you'd have to sit through a whole graduation ceremony. To Billy's misfortune, the older one of your siblings followed him into the kitchen.

"You're really doing a lot for her.", your sister said as she leaned against the kitchen counter next to Billy. He let out a gruff hum, not looking up once from the bottles he was filling. "Don't you think you deserve a little break with some fun?" She leaned forward, showing of as much cleavage as her dress let her show while dragging her pointer finger across his biceps.

"Touch me again and I'll break your fingers.", Billy threatened in a calm tone, still not looking up before leaving the kitchen with your water. But he didn't let it affect your incredibly good mood, plus he didn't plan on telling you in the near future. "You ready?", you asked with a wide smile. That smile made it all worth it.

"More than ready.", he replied before kissing you in front of your sisters.

Both of you finished up the nursery the second your mother and siblings left. It was pretty neutral, but the nursery mobile was ocean themed and some artwork on the walls depicted the ocean. Plus, a bunch of books Billy bought for the kid were about aquatic life and the ocean. You put up all the sonograms that were taken over the last few months, framed and everything. The nursery looked so beautiful.

And your baby thought the same.

Suddenly, you felt your pants getting wet. You looked down in shock and it took a while for your brain to puzzle together what was happening. "Billy, my water broke...", you said with a quiet voice. He looked over with a confused look. "What?"

"My water broke."

This wasn't supposed to happen, you weren't full-term yet. 34 weeks was too early. "Can you take me to the hospital? Please?", you sobbed. You felt like a small child, unable to controll your emotions and needing guidance from anyone else but you. But your boyfriend didn't waste any time to get you and your hospital bag in the car before driving you to the hospital, although way above the speed limit. It didn't matter to you.

Nothing did, except your baby being okay.

The birth was awful. You were in excruciating pain, and ended up having to get a C-Section because your baby was in breach. They were brought into the NICU while you were recovering in your room. While you were stable, Billy was scared. Scared of loosing you, or your child, or even both of you. But at least one of those fears washed away when you woke up. "(Y/N).", he husked in relief once your eyes fluttered open. His hand found yours and held it carefully while stroking the back of it.

"Hey.", you whispered as you looked at him through your blurry vision. "Baby's okay. She's in the NICU." The pronoun he used struck you. "She?", you asked. Honestly, you were sad that you weren't even awake to find out the gender. "Our little Julia.", he said with a smile. It was such a distinct, different smile. You've seen him happy, but never this happy. "Can I see her?", you asked. He kissed the top of your head before saying: "Once you're better, we can go see her all day."

"I can't wait."

"Stay in bed, I got it.", Billy mumbled while getting up to check on the baby. You were still recovering from giving birth, but both you and Julia were home from the hospital now. He was very attentive with both you and your daughter, and he didn't want you to overwork yourself. He had you in bed or on the couch most days, and carefully watched your every move when you were walking around. You could hear Billy calming your daughters crying, followed by footsteps walking to your shared bedroom. "Look who's here, Julia.", Billy cooed at his daughter while walking over to your bed. Julia was placed securely in your arms, where she looked at you quietly. She was tiny due to being born as a late preemie, but she pushed through and was now home with you. There was not a single doubt in your mind that you'll both love her forever.

"She's such a quiet baby, I'm worried.", you admitted to Billy. "I mean, she was born early. What if she's hard of hearing or something?" Your boyfriend sat down at the edge of the bed next to you. "Then we'll go through it as a family. No matter what." His fingers ran over her head, where she had a good amount of blonde curls already.

"Both of you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I'll be here for everything."

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fluff

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