#v; to save a house from falling

[endlessxrealities]

@lunaconstantinerp​ (Aemond Targaryen)

To say there was tension in the air of the Red Keep would be an understatement. Since the very moment Rhaenyra and her family returned to the shores of Kings Landing, surely all present held their breath; expecting the worst.

The family having come to secure claim of Driftmark for Lucerys Velaryon; third born child, second born son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, and her late husband, Laenor Velaryon, and no other man, should such a suggestion cost you your head. The matter had been quickly - and fatally - dealt with.. their cousin Vaemond, who’d objected to the succession, now dragon feast, and the house of the dragon once more brought together for a shared meal.

Laurenya, preferably called Lauren; second born of Rhaenyra and Laenor, only daughter of the Princess, had initially been rather excited to see the others after so long. Her aunt Helaena, and her had been rather close growing up together. Now, even a blind man could see how close the two sides were to skirmish. 

Perhaps ignorant to this fact, but not without hope of reconcile, was the King Viserys.. Lauren’s grand-sire. The whole of Westeros could see the old man’s illness was taking him closer and closer to the gods each day. The man could barely even stand.. and yet, he rose from his seat at the table.. 

“It both, gladdens my heart... and fills me, with sorrow... to see these faces around the table.” He began; all eyes finding him, all eyes showing a sense of heartache for the man’s pain, despite his flaws. “.. you have grown so distant in the years past.”

[inknopewetrust]

𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬

summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age. [aemond x fem!reader] [wc: 5.0k]

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), hand job, fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism, aemond’s abuse by her is not tolerated here 🙂‍↔️, HotD themes.

quick links: masterlist | gif credit: @seaside-storm

The sounds of the Silk Streets in the early hours of morning were not for the faint of heart.

You had grown accustomed to them over the years of your residency—the noises, the people, the actions and wants of those who seek the services of an establishment like the one Sylvi ran.

It was not your proudest achievement; not one you’d shout from the rooftops but one that kept the food on the table.

It wasn’t hard. It was sex. And you learned to enjoy it with what little freedom was left when the coins were tossed and your body was aching.

Between your fingers one of those coins twirled absentmindedly as the curtains of your bedding swished at the retreat of your latest payer. There were seldom benefits from the occupation you took up yet the pay, after years of understanding and learning, had grown exponentially.

And the coin that tossed between your fingertips was enough to put food on the table for a few days; enough to buy a dress or to get passage to another town.

It was a reward for service you did not mind.

Sylvi had taught you what you needed to know. How to move, how to pleasure. She helped you determine what felt good and what would feel unpleasant to both you and a partner.

But she had her transgressions far beyond the positive.

One of them stalked the building in a fume.

The laughter that had propagated such anger left an hour ago but the remnants of the jesters stuck heavy in the air. They opened curtains and made spectacles of the givers and the receivers; they stared too long at you in the nude to make you feel at ease.

In the distance, you heard your name called yet you continued to flip the coin.

Aegon, the King as he was now, was no friend to the servants of pleasure. You consider yourself fortunate that he never sought you—as desirable, as insatiable, as you were.

It saved you from a world of hurt from a man as fickle as he was.

Although his reputation preceded him and the ire that still held itself like a cloud over the house was from his head, his brother, Aemond, was a welcome guest.

Though he too was someone you had not laid with either.

He had never lingered far from the woman of the house.

“Y/N.”

Said woman pulled back the curtain of your bed roughly. Against the pillows and covered in a robe the color of a midnight black, you lazily gazed at her.

“Did you not hear me call?” Sylvi asked impatiently. Her irritation was stinging.

“I was busy, Madame,” you responded loosely.

You arched your back and with it came cracks of relaxation. It felt good after being holed up in your bed for two hours.

“You know how Dornish men are,” you informed her. “That one was quite… spirited at this late hour.”

“What happy news for you,” she panned before nodding her head in the direction of her usual hideaway. “I seek a favor.”

“A favor?” You questioned with a mewl.

“It is for the one we do not speak of.”

Sylvi’s eyes gave you a warning. Aemond Targaryen… the one who fumed.

She had never asked for a favor regarding the Prince before and it intrigued you. It would fall a lie if you spoke of never having imagined what a man like him would be like in your bed.

He was a magnificent creature.

Tall and carved from the marble of a great sculptor, Prince Aemond was no stranger to the gazes of the pleasure folk. The way their eyes shined and pupils grew large, you were surely one of them.

It did not hurt that he was no more than the age you were now and had not yet taken a wife.

It was silly, however, to imagine a whore being the wife of a Prince. He had barely sparred you glances when he visited.

Dreams. That is all that it would remain.

“And you seek me?” You questioned, dropping the coin on your clothed stomach.

“I have a proposition for you,” she clarified. “One that will pay you well for your service.”

“The receiver is willing?”

“Yes.”

Her alcove was far nicer than yours.

Lavish with silken pillows and warm candlelight, it was near romantic if you forgot the circumstances of her actions. It smelt of lavender and oils; the kind she wanted throughout the establishment but could only create the corner she wanted here.

It was the first time you had been invited into the space.

Sylvi walked around you as you stood just inside of the curtains. She held the tassel of her robe between her fingertips, swinging it gently.

“We do not speak on what happens here, understood?” She asked you.

“I understand, Madame.” She nodded her head in approval.

“Good,” Sylvi affirmed.

On a ledge behind the bed, she grabbed a small sack of coins and tossed them to you. It landed with a jingle at the edge of the bed.

With delicate hands you grasped the strings and pulled open the bag to see coins worth the entire building. You dropped it, looking at Sylvi with wide eyes.

“T-This… this is far too much,” you scoffed.

“It is what the Prince offered,” she spoke as if the currency was nothing more than what the common folk paid.

There had to have been 10 gold dragons inside of the pouch.

The total jostled you.

You had long understood that the job you took on was ill-inspired. The money you had made was reasonable and never made you feel ashamed to take it.

But this… the currency enough to buy twenty horses; enough to buy a home or sail to Essos with no intention of returning… it did bring shame.

“And for such a currency what does the Prince expect of me? I will not be humiliated—“

“I have no intention of humiliating you.”

The voice cut through glass.

Behind you, with the curtains of Sylvi’s bedding swaying to a gentle close the man of her proposition appeared. You turned around with your mouth agape from the inability to finish your thoughts and as many mortals had before, your mind ceased its thoughts.

He was ethereal, otherworldly.

And he was fully nude.

You stuttered stupidly to greet him.

“P-Prince Aemond,” you managed. “I apologize. I did not intend to speak out of turn.”

He hummed, observing you as you did him. You straightened your back at the sensation. His eye piercing and cold—in a room basked in warmth he was not the bringer of it. Aemond let his mind roam the faults and perfections of your body and needn’t say what it was aloud.

He trusted Sylvi in a twisted way. If she said you were right for the job, surely she would not steer him wrong.

“So,” Aemond’s eye flicked to Sylvi. You took the opportunity to observe the blue gleam of the sapphire that filled the vacancy of his other.

“This is she?”

She introduced your name to him and his eye met yours.

“And the terms have been accepted?”

“They have, My Prince,” you spoke without hesitation.

“Aemond,” he clarified. “You are to call me Aemond.”

You tried his name on your lips and it was breathless. As his eye stalked your body, he took the initiative to take the step forward. The understanding of your willingness emboldened him to bury his brother’s words.

He was seldom humiliated but the reasons he flocked to Sylvi were different from the ones he sought from a willing companion: to release and forget.

Aemond approached you with soft steps and it was suddenly difficult to remember how to breathe. You held your breath, waiting, as his arm extended to you and his fingers brushed the fabric of your robe along your collarbones. He traced the skin with his fingers, along the edges of your robe as the delicate lacing became rough under his fingertips.

He was testing the waters.

You remained focused on his face as your heart rate began to increase. Every thump faster aligned with the draws of his fingers; long and nimble, softer than the men you were used to on days as long as these.

He was fluid and natural. There was no scared boy inside of him, but the hardened man he wanted the world to see.

Sylvi rounded her bed and you were reminded that she was still there as she looked at you.

“Touch her, Aemond. Touch her as you do in your dreams.”

At her command, his hand stilled. You half-thought her demands had sent him into a spiral of regret. Perhaps he would apologize for his lustful responses, scurrying away and back into the pit of dragon’s he came from.

Instead of listening to her in haste, he asked you a question.

“Where are you from?”

You were taken aback but remained stoic. Your job was to put on a performance no matter how surprising his words felt. No patron had ever asked you about, well, you.

You were nothing more than an orifice for their wanton needs.

“Honeyholt,” you responded quietly.

“Not far from Oldtown,” he commented, tracing the lace but never touching your skin. His hand grazed it until he reached the knot of your robe.

You shook your head, “no.”

“Did you enjoy it there?”

“It was far less exciting than King’s Landing.”

“May I?”

You had never had a patron ask permission before either.

You felt like a girl being dotted on. It was a strange feeling, one that had turned so drastically from a mere thirty minutes before—being treated like a doll to be thrown from one to be pampered… it was not what you were expecting.

“You may, Aemond.”

His finite hands worked the knot swiftly to let the robe fall open. When it did, he let it sit there for a moment as he took in the shape of your breasts underneath the fabric, he could see the mound of your pussy, and the way you stood completely still in wait.

He felt powerful when he normally felt meek.

Sylvi had been right. He did need this.

Aemond could feel the woman’s eyes behind him and whether they were on himself or you he would not know, but he felt them heavy.

He took his hands and pushed the fabric from your shoulders. It pooled around your feet in one push.

You breathed in deeply, nipples pebbling at the coolness now meeting you.

It was obvious, however, that your mere body was not enough to rouse him to hardness. If you spent anymore time watching him as he watched you, the sun would be up and his duties would call him away.

“Touch him,” Sylvi instructed you. “Do not be afraid.”

“I am not afraid,” you responded to her but did not look at her. She took a seat on her bed as you moved to stand toe to toe with Aemond.

“May I touch you?” You asked in the same voice of permission he had given you.

“You may,” and he said your name with a weight hearty on his tongue.

With his permission you reached for his right hand and placed it on your breast. His timidness was beginning to show through the hesitancy of his actions. The slow grip on your breast slowly became more comforting the more time he took.

“It’s alright,” you whispered as though Sylvi was not there and you were alone with the Prince. “You can touch me.”

You felt more pressure from his palm. Drawing your own hand to his chest, you began to feel the outlines of his muscles. Aemond was lean and fit, skinny but not sickly.

Each muscle was tense under your touch. He shuttered a breath through his nose and your hand recoiled in the slightest.

“I apologize,” he spoke as lowly as you had before. “I have not been with another in a long time.”

He had not been with another other than Sylvie in a long time, he meant.

“I can be slow, My Prince.”

“Aemond,” he corrected you.

“Aemond,” you said sheepishly in your forgetfulness.

“I do not need you to be slow.”

You nodded in reply and placed your hand back on his chest. You followed it down until you began to broach the zone in which your talents needed to please not only him, but Sylvi also.

If you were a disappointment, there would be no clothes nor food nor horses nor castles in your future.

“Then I will not go slow, Aemond.”

He hummed, intaking a breath as your fingers gently, kindly, fluttered over his cock. You looked up at him with your eyes hooded, eyelashes batting and he thought for an instance that no woman had ever looked at him that way.

Sylvi hadn’t and it awoke something with him.

You began to work him with your hand as he let his hand fall from your breast and brought it up to the back of your neck. He massaged the space briefly before holding onto you with a tighter grip.

In your hand he began to show himself to you. Growing in length, you licked your lips in anticipation and swallowed the bug that formed in your throat.

“Aemond,” you questioned as you stepped closer. You parted your legs to stand between one of his and he stopped you only by moving his other hand to grip your chin.

He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

The feel of your hand on his cock was enthralling. So smooth and soft, gripping him in hardness at the right moments but never suffocating and never hurting.

“Yes?” He was near breathless.

You took his response with no words but a shifting of your hand. You left his shaft and snaked your hand to his balls, cupping them the best you could. His staggered breath brought a small, sly smile to your lips as he gripped your chin tighter and his eye narrowed.

“Would—“ in his grip, you could barely get words out. He changed his positioning to hold both sides of your neck. “Would you like to see what I can do with my mouth?”

“It would be a waste to not,” he grunted when your hand put pressure on his balls.

He released your neck and watched as you sank to your knees obediently. In your position, he was reminded of the good and pious that prayed to the Seven. Your eyes were so innocent but your mind wicked; your hands were pleasurable and your words soothing.

It was a change and it was working for him.

You sat with your knees apart, feet against your backside and heels digging into the flesh. You ran your hands down your body as he watched you delicately before running your hands up his legs and resting on his upper thighs.

Placing a soft kiss on one of his thighs, you worked yourself toward his member as it beckoned you. You grasped the base of his cock with your hand, placing a sweet kiss on his ever-swollen head.

You let saliva gather at the front of your mouth and let it dribble out and onto his cock before taking him with your mouth.

Aemond was heavy on your tongue. His warmth was sending electricity from your mouth to your core; you felt the throb of want begin to pool at your center. He took both of his hands and placed them at the top of your head but did not push. He did not force and he allowed you to escape when you needed to breathe.

But he was in another world.

Never had he been taken in such a way but his mind liked playing tricks. It was not his first and when he thought back on the times he had been pleasured as such it was not as enjoyable.

Yet, he forgot her stares and focused on you. A woman closer to his own age and one that had a system of morality of questions and seeking answers in regards to pleasure.

You took his extended gratitude and kindness and returned it with your own.

With every pull of your mouth, you filled the space with what your mouth couldn’t take with your hand. You squeezed at his base and it made him see stars. In your vision you could see him watching if you looked up.

How his blue gem gleamed at you…

As you turned your head and used your salvia and some of his pre-cum that began to leak to wet his shaft, you moaned at the sensation. It sent you tingling, drawing a hand away from his thigh; you brought it between your legs and began to rub circles on your clit.

The wetness gathered quickly. You shut your eyes as the two parts of you, mouth and cunt, were being used to your own delight. As you opened them again, Sylvi caught the corner of your eye.

She rubbed herself over her clothes and you halted. Hand retreating from your body in an instant; the salvia that had gathered landed on your thigh with a splat and your hand loosened what held onto him. Aemond let one of his hands fall loosely beside him as he looked up and kept focus on the wall in front of him.

He needed to change. He had asked her for this change for his own sake and it was time for it to happen.

“Sylvi,” Aemond muttered absentmindedly.

“Yes?” She prompted as if he were to ask her to join the two of you. Her tone made you nervous but he never let his other hand fall from your head.

She went to remove her own robe but he stopped her with a turn of his head.

“Leave us,” he commanded.

Slyvi paused her hands against her body, dejected at Aemond while her eyes bounced between the two of you.

You, your hand still on his cock and your lips barely kissing it. Him, with his hand on your head and mind completely taken by you.

“Aem—“

“Do I have to repeat myself?” He asked her calmly. His heart beat so fast at his strength. Never did he believe he’d be able to breakaway.

“No,” she rose from the bed and made for the entrance.

Your breath was hot on his dick when she stopped again. For one moment Sylvi waited for Aemond to call her back but she was met with silence; a heavy weight of agony as she stood there and received no reply.

It was her retreating footsteps that brought relief to your bones.

Aemond’s other hand returned to your head.

“I did not wish for her to watch us,” he informed you.

You looked up at him from your spot on the floor. Along your chin were remnants of spit or spent, he wasn’t certain. All the same, he took a thumb and gathered it from you. He brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked the gathering from it.

“I did not either.”

“Good,” he hummed. “Now get on the bed.”

You needn’t be asked twice.

Aemond refrained from touching you as you rose from the floor and sat on the bed. Once you were seated, he leaned down to grab your ankle and pushed back on your shoulder to lay down. The message was received quickly and you laid back and brought your other leg bent beside you.

You were completely at his mercy. Your walls clenched around nothing when he ran his hands over the skin of your legs. You extended your arms above your head; feeling the soft silk pillows and coolness of the sheets below your body. The sensations were overwhelming.

“I’ve never been with a woman like you before,” Aemond’s hands roamed further, pulling you down on the bed to meet his body but not entering you.

“And what kind of woman am I?” You sighed contently.

“A kind woman.”

“How do you know me to be kind?” You asked him.

One of his hands feathered the skin between your leg and lips. They grazed it again and this time, running his fingers through where you wanted him most. A selfless breath left your lips.

“Your eyes are kind,” he bent down to lay a kiss on your knee. “There are not many kind eyes here.”

He stuck one finger in, followed by another. Your hand reached for the pillows quickly, back arching at the sensation. You once thought his fingers to be long and nimble but they were much more. You felt them so clearly and cleanly.

They reached within your walls; touching the plushy skin as it grew in wetness and emitted slick sounds of pleasure.

Once he felt you were ready, he wanted to test his third finger.

“Gods,” you stuttered out as his third finger slipped in and it became so quick. He was running away with himself as the sight of your pleasure overtakes him.

“F-fuck.”

The words continued to fall from your lips as he picked up his pace. His fingers moved in and out, in and out, and then a rapid succession of moving them up and down. Your body trembled at the noises. The wet, squelching sound of a mess too far gone.

He may not have been as experienced as other men, but he had ruined you for all in the future.

“That’s it,” he whispered against your thigh again. He bent down to watch you writhe at his actions. “What do you need from me? Hm?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you panted. “Just you Aemond.”

“Just me?” He murmured. “What of my cock? Do you want to feel me inside of you? Finish inside of you?”

The idea sent you spiraling. You imagined how his cock would feel longer and thicker than his fingers. How it would plead against the spot to make you come undone.

“Yes,” you nodded. “I want to know what it feels like.”

He removed his fingers to grasp his length in his hands. Aemond pumped himself briefly before lining his head up with your entrance, gripping your hip as you stayed splayed before him.

And then he slid in.

Seldom could explain the moment but you had seen stars. You saw the galaxies spoken of by the Maester’s and worlds beyond your own. There was no feeling but him filling you so fully and totally.

He shut his eye. The blue sapphire still glittering in the light; Aemond saw peace grow with a gasp. Everything in his mind went blank with white noise. All he could hear was himself as he sheathed himself inside of your warmth with a simple push. He filled you until he could no longer.

It was sinful to feel so good.

He held himself there for a minute. You wanted to sit up, hold his body close to yours and feel his muscles contract under your touch but stay as pliant as possible.

Against your convictions, Aemond leaned forward and cupped your cheek with his hands. It was entirely intimate for a man you had just met.

But his touch lingered lifetimes. It was as if you knew him forever, and this singular moment was one of plenty.

Stilled inside of you, his thumb caressed your bottom lip.

“May I kiss you?” He asked promptly.

You moved your hips in a roll to urge him to move, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his shoulders. His lips brushed against yours.

He pulled his hips back and slowly slid himself back in.

You nodded your head the best you could against the sheets and he ticked at you. His nose nudged yours, your lips begging to be touched but he neglected them.

“No,” he cooed. “I need you to say it. Say you want me to kiss you.” Again, he slid out, back in and your hips met him there.

“Kiss me, Aemond. Kiss me, please.”

Pushing his cock deeper into you, your mouth fell agape and he used the opportunity to capture his lips with your own, swallowing your moan and losing himself in your intimacy.

He never thought a woman like you could make him feel so selfless.

Aemond knew nothing of you but felt everything. He needn’t understand the pieces of you to feel the rewards of lust and anger spilling out of him.

His mouth is so warm and wet. Aemond’s tongue danced with yours as your whimpers became gasps with the jacking of his hips into you. Your hands are bruising on his shoulders; grip tight and breaking had you been a stronger woman.

Aemond broke his kisses and moved his hand to your neck. His thumb put pressure on the bottom of your chin, pushing your head backwards and sending your spine arching.

If he took you any further, you’d split yourself in too. You mewled in pleasure and he let out a low chuckle, eyes low and observing as he pounded his cock in your pussy faster.

“Oh,” one of your arms shot up above your head and he took his other hand, the one not on your neck, and intertwined your hands together.

“Do the others fuck you like this?” He hummed.

“No,” you called into the air. “Not everyone is as good as you, My Prince.”

As your eyes met his, you felt your heart exploding. No one would ever hold you like this again. No one would know you in the secrets you shared here—so open and viewable yet shroud in the comfort of veils.

You like this. He knows you do. And fuck, he does too.

“You like being held like a worthy lady,” Aemond purred. “Like you’re not a whore.”

“You like being strong when they underestimate you.”

His hand around your throat tightened but didn’t suffocate you. Aemond’s fingers that intertwined with your own stayed together as he changed his speed. Slowing down and drawing his dick out to the tip and stuffing you again, he snickered.

“You are not weak.”

“No,” he narrowed his eye. “I’m not.”

“In here,” you groaned. “In here you can be anyone, Aemond.”

He knew it to be true.

Instead of responding with a smart retort or a scathing comment that would rival one of his brothers, he nodded his head and let it fall in the crook of your neck.

Within you, his solemn romanticism built a fire. It was aching; clenching your walls around him as your breaths became more heated and laced with a finish. His skin on yours glistened with sweat the more strenuous your meetings became.

You were holding onto a thin string when he lifted his head again and planted a kiss on your lips.

So personal, so intimate from what you were used to.

“I-“ you barely got a syllable out before your body shook with your orgasm hitting you like a brick through a glass window. Aemond removed his hand on your neck to grip your back as your body lifted from the sheets.

Your cunt had his cock in a vice. So tight and smooth with your wetness, he felt the stuttering sensation of his own building in a quick anticipation and as the shaking in your legs began to lessen, he pulled out of your pussy without warning and pumped himself before spilling his spent on your stomach.

Your eyes saw stars on the ceiling of the brothel. Aemond kissed between your breath as his fingers swiped through his cum. He drew a line from your stomach, between your breasts, and to your lips. You took his fingers covered in him into your mouth and licked him clean.

Once there was nothing left, his wet fingers palmed your breast with a sigh. You untangled your combined fingers and gingerly outlined the bottom of his scar.

He leaned into your touch absentmindedly before eagerly kissing you again.

Aemond would never confess why he did it.

It was an urge he had never felt; built in the emotions of his mind as he was wrapped in your kind embrace and away from the world that had created the cruelness that lived with him. You were not cruel. You were good and a sanctimonious creature at his alter of wavering faith.

You revived him.

And he barely knew you.

When he pulled away, you brushed a hand over his disheveled hair and smiled.

The feeling within him was foreign but it was hungry. He hungered for the bubbled nature of want that brewed in his bones. Aemond sought the feel of your hands on him and the way you settled in his motions without complaint or verbally assuring him what he was doing was “good for him,” when in reality, he knew it was not.

So in turn, when you smiled, so did he.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you.

[mononijikayu]

pillowtalk — fushiguro toji.

So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumi’s small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out. “Do you think… Megumi’s lonely?” His voice is soft, almost tentative. He’s not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. “Like, maybe he’d do better with a sibling?” The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, smut, rough sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, body praise, kissing, p-i-v sex, fingering, pet names (baby, babe, wife, mama, etc), profanity, love, humor, light-hearted, married life, being in love, sexual intercourse, slice of life, domestic life, family, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: i think about how mamaguro was taken too soon from toji and megumi and how maybe they were thinking about wanting another kid and just how domestic their life was. i like to think about toji!househusband too fr. like if there was a character that could be the way of the househusband, it would be fushiguro toji, thank you. thank you for listening to my tedtalk!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

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HIS LIFE NOW WAS A FAR CRY FROM HIS OLD LIFE. Toji Fushiguro never thought he'd find peace, much less happiness. His life had been a series of battles, betrayals, and constant survival. But then you came along, softening the sharp edges of his world, bringing warmth where there had only been cold.

He remembers the day he first saw you. It was as if the world had found itself in a tailspin and he was in it. His world changed when you came into his life. Everything felt like it was worth finding wonder in.

With how you looked at him with eyes full of understanding, tenderness. There was nothing of pity or grievance. There was always warmth. Warmth he didn't think he would ever deserve. Somehow, you'd seen something in him worth saving, something worth loving. 

You gave him a family, a real family—not just in the blood that runs through his veins but in the small, everyday moments that fill the spaces between. You gave him everything he could ever want. Everything that he thought could only be achieved in dreams.

Mornings over coffee, the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, your laugh echoing softly through the room. The gentle way you cradle your son, Megumi, in your arms, whispering stories to him with a voice so full of love it makes Toji’s chest ache in the best possible way.

Every time he looks at Megumi, he feels a rush of gratitude so overwhelming it almost brings him to his knees. Your son has his eyes, that piercing gaze that cuts through the nonsense of the world, but he has your smile, that Toji was sure of. He was just as much happy about it too.

When he looked at Megumi, he could find that small, quiet curve that seems to promise the universe that all will be well. It was waiting for him on his son's beautiful face as much as it was on your own beautiful lips.

Fushiguro Toji never thought he’d care so much about something so trivial, but here he is, caring more than he ever imagined possible. His son's smile brought him as much joy to see as it does when you too smile at him.d

He watches Megumi toddling around the living room, his tiny hands grasping at the air as he learns to walk, determination etched on his face. Toji's heart swells with a fierce kind of pride.

In moments like these, he understands what people mean when they talk about the best things in life. It’s not the money, the power, or the next fight to win. It’s his son’s first steps, the weight of your hand in his, the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing beside him at night.

You've given him a home—not just a house with walls and a roof but a place where he feels like he belongs, where he isn't running from shadows or haunted by the ghosts of his past. A place where, for the first time in his life, he feels like he deserves to stay.

Toji never thought he’d be here, never thought he’d be the kind of man who could love so deeply, who could feel so much. But you changed that. You changed everything. And as he stands there, watching Megumi, he knows that this right here, right now is the happiest he’s ever been.

Toji’s gaze shifts from Megumi to you, who are quietly watching the two of them with a serene smile. Your presence brings a calm to the chaos that once defined his life. The way you hold Megumi’s tiny hand as he wobbles toward you, the soft encouragement in your voice, it all creates a sanctuary that Toji never thought he’d find.

In the evenings, when the world quiets down and the house is bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, Toji often finds himself reflecting on how far he’s come. He thinks about the days when his future seemed so uncertain, when the idea of a family felt like an impossible dream. Now, every moment spent with you and Megumi feels like a precious gift, a beautiful reality he’d only dared to hope for.

As Megumi eventually collapses into a giggling heap on the floor, Toji chuckles softly. You come over and join them, your laughter mingling with his as you all enjoy the simple joy of being together.

Toji sits back and watches, his heart full. He thinks about the sacrifices he’s made and the battles he fought. Each scar, each hard-earned lesson, has led him to this moment—the sweetest victory of all.

In the quiet moments, when it’s just the three of you, Toji often finds himself lost in thought. He marvels at how you’ve created a life filled with warmth and love, and how Megumi is growing up surrounded by everything he never had.

He realizes that his past, with all its pain and darkness, was worth it for the chance to build this future with you. He feels a profound sense of gratitude, not just for what you’ve given him, but for the strength and resilience you’ve shown in building this family together.

When he tucks Megumi into bed at night, he’s reminded of the importance of the little rituals. The way Megumi’s eyes flutter closed as Toji reads him a bedtime story, the way he clings to the small toy you both picked out together, and the peaceful sigh he gives as he drifts off to sleep. Toji knows that these moments are fleeting, but they are precious.

As he stands by the doorway, watching over his sleeping son, Toji reaches out and takes your hand. You squeeze it gently, a silent promise of the love and support you’ve always given him. He turns to you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.

“I never thought I’d have a life like this.” he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. I don’t know how to thank you, but I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

You smile, your eyes glistening with love and understanding. “You don’t have to thank me. This our family, our home, its all I ever wanted too. We’ve created something beautiful together, and that’s more than enough.”

Toji wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as he gazes once more at the peaceful scene before him. In that moment, he knows that he has everything he could ever ask for. The life he shares with you and Megumi is his greatest achievement, his greatest joy. And as he holds you close, he realizes that this is exactly where he’s meant to be—home.

The nights are often filled with a gentle stillness, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Megumi’s breathing as he sleeps. Toji finds these quiet moments to be some of the most precious. He cherishes the tranquility that envelops your family, feeling as though he’s finally found his place of peace after years of turmoil.

In the early mornings, when the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, Toji enjoys watching you and Megumi. He loves the way you wake up with a soft smile, the kind that says everything is right in the world.

As you prepare breakfast, Toji often stands by, watching with admiration. You move through the routine with an ease and grace that mesmerize him, the way you hum a soft tune or how you softly chat with Megumi, turning the mundane into something magical.

Mornings are Toji’s favorite time to bond with his son. He takes Megumi in his arms, holding him close as he prepares to start the day. They play together, their laughter filling the room with an infectious joy that makes Toji’s heart swell.

He sees so much of you in Megumi; Everything he loves about you blossomed in your beautiful son. Megumi had the same curious eyes, the same warm smile—and it makes him fall in love with both of you all over again.

On weekends, the family often goes on small adventures. Whether it’s a stroll through the park, a visit to a nearby museum, or a picnic by the river, Toji treasures these outings.

He loves seeing the world through Megumi’s eyes, watching as his son discovers new things and experiences the simple joys of life. He takes pride in being a part of these moments, knowing that he’s helping to create cherished memories for his family.

At night, after Megumi is asleep and the house quiets down, Toji and you find time to connect. These moments of solitude are a chance to share your thoughts and dreams, to reflect on the day and plan for the future.

The conversations are often deep and meaningful, touching on everything from hopes and fears to the little details of daily life. It’s in these conversations that Toji feels most connected to you, realizing how deeply you understand and support him.

Sometimes, Toji thinks back to the days when his life was filled with chaos and uncertainty. He can’t believe how far he’s come, how much he’s changed. And every time he looks at you or Megumi, he’s reminded of just how much he’s gained. The family he’s built with you is a testament to the love and resilience you both share.

As he drifts off to sleep beside you, Toji feels a profound sense of contentment. The days are filled with laughter and love, the nights with peace and connection. He knows that his past is behind him, that he’s finally found the life he was meant to have.

In the quiet darkness, Toji holds you close, grateful for the life you’ve created together. He’s found something he never thought possible��a home, a family, and a love that makes everyday worth living.

And as he whispers a quiet “thank you” into the night, he knows that the greatest gift he’s ever received is the love and happiness you and Megumi have brought into his life.

══════════════════

HE REALLY THINKS THIS IS THE BEST LIFE ANYONE CAN ASK FOR. Fushiguro Toji enjoys the life you’ve built together. He really does. But lately, a thought has been lingering in his mind, one that keeps surfacing during the quiet moments.

He wonders if maybe life would be even better, fuller—if you and he were to give Megumi a sibling. It’s not that he doesn’t love the way things are now. Ever since Megumi was born, everything shifted naturally; your priorities changed, and together, you’ve navigated this new life of parenthood seamlessly. 

But still, Toji can’t help but worry. Megumi is growing up fast—already past his first birthday and nearing his second. He’s independent in his own quiet way, rarely showing interest in playing with other kids when given the chance. Toji wonders if maybe it’s because Megumi feels a little lonely, being an only child. 

Toji doesn’t voice these thoughts out loud often, but they weigh on his mind. You’ve both done well to balance your lives, your love, and your responsibilities. But he imagines another child, a little sibling for Megumi—someone to share those quiet afternoons and keep him company.

Maybe it’s time to think about it, he muses. After all, family has always been at the center of his thoughts, and adding to yours feels like the natural next step.

Your husband hasn’t brought it up yet, not directly. It’s hard for him to find the right moment, the right words. He’s not one for long conversations or deep discussions, but you know him well enough to notice when something is on his mind.

Lately, he’s been watching Megumi more closely, observing the way your son plays quietly by himself, content in his little world but lacking the spark of excitement that other kids seem to find when surrounded by their peers.

He’s seen it when you’re both at the park, Megumi clinging to your leg instead of running around with the other children. He doesn’t push it—Megumi is still young, and Toji knows better than anyone that everyone moves at their own pace.

But the nagging thought remains: maybe what Megumi needs isn’t just more playdates or time with other kids. Maybe he needs someone at home, a sibling to grow up with, to bond with. Someone who’ll always be there, someone who’ll understand him in a way only a sibling can.

In those quiet moments when the house is calm, and Megumi is tucked away in bed, Toji imagines what it might be like. The sounds of laughter from another room, two pairs of small feet running down the hallway.

The way you’d smile, holding another little one in your arms. The thought makes him feel warm, something he doesn’t experience often. It’s not just about Megumi anymore, he knows that too well. It’s also about the life you’re building, the family you’ve already started. And deep down, he knows he wants to keep growing it.

Still, he wonders how you’ll feel about it. You’ve both been so focused on Megumi, on making sure he’s happy and cared for. Will you think it’s too soon? Will you worry about the shift it would cause in your lives again, the added responsibility?

These thoughts swirl in his mind as he considers how to approach the subject. He doesn’t want to push, but the desire is there, quietly persistent, tugging at him with each passing day.

So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumi’s small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out.

“Do you think… Megumi’s lonely?” His voice is soft, almost tentative. He’s not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. “Like, maybe he’d do better with a sibling?”

The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.

You pause for a moment, taking in Toji’s words. It’s not a question you expected, but knowing him, you realize this has been on his mind for a while. His concern for Megumi is clear, and the idea of giving your son a sibling is something you’ve thought about before, though not as seriously. But now, hearing it from Toji, you realize it’s more than just a passing thought—it’s a real possibility. 

You glance over at Megumi, fast asleep in his crib, peaceful and unaware of the weight of this conversation. He’s always been a quiet, introspective child, and it’s true—he doesn’t seem to enjoy the company of other kids all that much.

Your little boy is happy to be around you both, that was true enough. He always loves spending time with you both. But with other kids? It's a tough crowd when it comes to your little boy. 

But you’ve always assumed he’d grow out of it, that he’d find his own way to connect. Still, there’s a small part of you that wonders if Toji is right. Maybe Megumi is lonely, and maybe the best thing for him would be to have a sibling to share his life with.

You shift closer to Toji, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t know, baby.” you admit softly. “Maybe. He does seem to keep to himself a lot… but he’s still so young. Do you really think a sibling would make a difference?”

Toji lets out a low sigh, his arm wrapping around you as he considers his words. “I think it could. I mean, I didn’t grow up with much family, and I turned out…” He trails off, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, let’s just say I don’t want that for Megumi. He deserves more.”

You smile at his attempt to lighten the mood, but the thought lingers in your mind. Toji’s childhood was different—lonely in a way that you know he doesn’t talk about often. Maybe that’s why this means so much to him. Maybe he wants Megumi to have something he never did.

“You think we’re ready for that?” you ask, glancing up at him. It’s a big decision, one that would change everything, again. But there’s something comforting about the idea, too. “I mean with how busy we are and Megumi…”

You’ve seen Toji with Megumi, the way he’s softened since becoming a father. And you love it. More than anything, it was what you think that fulfilled your life — making Toji a father and building a family. him.

But you haven’t thought about it just yet. But now that you’re thinking about it….the thought of adding another little one to your family, watching Toji bond with another child, feels right in a way that you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Toji meets your gaze, his expression more serious now. “I think we are. It’s not gonna be easy, but nothing ever is, right? We made it work with Megumi, and we’ll make it work again.”

His confidence reassures you, and the weight of the decision starts to feel less overwhelming. You’re not just thinking about yourselves anymore; you’re thinking about Megumi and the family you’re building together.

You lean into him, letting his warmth and the quiet of the evening wrap around you both. “Okay, okay….” you say softly, the decision settling into your chest. “Let’s think about it. For Megumi. For us.”

Toji presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice full of something deeper than just words. “For all of us.”

But thinking was one thing. Acting on it, especially when the two of you were so deeply drawn to each other—was something entirely different. Whenever the subject of expanding your family surfaced in conversation, it wasn’t long before the connection between you and Toji shifted into something more intense, more immediate.

There was an undeniable pull between you, something that seemed to ignite in the quiet moments when you were alone together, reminding you just how much you desired one another.

It would often happen in the evening, after a long day of work. The two of you would settle into the comfort of your apartment, exhaustion slipping away as you relaxed on the couch after dinner.

Toji would always keep you close, one arm draped over your shoulders, his hand absently tracing patterns on your skin. The world outside would fade as you settled into your quiet bubble, just the two of you in the stillness of the night.

And then, it would happen slowly at first, with a shared glance, a quiet breath, and the unspoken understanding that there was something deeper simmering beneath the surface.

Toji, always so sure in his movements, would gently guide you from the couch to the soft embrace of the bed, laying you down against the pillow with deliberate care, as if you were something precious. His hands would roam, teasing and familiar, as he removed your clothes piece by piece, his fingers gliding over your skin like he’d memorized every inch of you.

By the time his hand slid between your thighs, you were already lost to him, to the way he touched you with a practiced skill that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers worked their way inside you, slow and deliberate at first, drawing out every bit of pleasure as your body responded to him. 

The feeling was electric, the tension between you mounting with each passing second. Toji’s gaze was fixed on you, dark and focused, as if nothing else in the world mattered but the way you were falling apart beneath his touch.

You couldn’t think about anything else in those moments, not about the future or about giving Megumi a sibling. All you could focus on was the sensation of Toji’s fingers moving inside you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Toji knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. The way he touched you, the way he whispered your name in that low, gravelly voice; it drove you wild, leaving you breathless and aching for more. You were wrapped up in him, in the way his fingers curled inside you, his thumb brushing over your most sensitive spot with a precision that made your head spin.

Your back arched, hips instinctively rolling against his hand as the pleasure built, your thoughts scattered in every direction except the present moment. Toji’s lips found your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “You’re all mine,” his voice thick with want.

And in that moment, you were. Completely, entirely his. The rest of the world faded away, and all that mattered was the feeling of being lost in him, your body responding to his touch as you let go of everything except the pure, unadulterated pleasure he gave you.

Toji’s fingers moved with a deliberate intensity, his pace quickening as he watched you unravel beneath him. His focus was sharp, every movement calculated to drive you closer to your limit.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds that escaped you—soft gasps, whispers of his name, every noise pulling him deeper into his need for you. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing along your neck, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you in place as your body arched against him.

"That's it, baby." he murmured, voice rough and low. The heat between you was almost unbearable, the air thick with the tension that always seemed to surge whenever you were alone together. 

He was lost in you, in the way your body responded to his touch. His fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot that made your breath catch, your hips instinctively lifting toward him as the pressure built in your core.

You were so close, the pleasure winding tight within you, and Toji could sense it. His thumb circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you. 

"You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?" he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, the command in his voice leaving no room for anything else. "Let go. I’ve got you."

And just like that, the tension inside you snapped. Your body tensed, then released in a flood of warmth and sensation, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out, hands clutching at the sheets beneath you.

Toji’s fingers didn’t stop, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you as he held you through it, his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring soft, unintelligible words of praise.

Your body trembled beneath him, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through you as you tried to catch your breath. Toji slowly withdrew his fingers, but his touch remained gentle, his hand trailing softly along your thigh as he looked down at you, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re perfect like this, baby.” he said quietly, almost to himself. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Always so damn perfect.”

Your body is still coming down from the high when you look at him, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin as he hovers above you, his smirk deepening. There's a glint in his eyes, that unmistakable fire, as if the conversation you’d had earlier is still echoing in the back of his mind. 

You don’t even have to think too hard about it; it’s like an instinct when you tell him, voice breathless, “I want to give you a baby again.”

Toji’s grin widens, his brow arching slightly. “Oh, is that right?” he teases, his hand trailing lazily down your side, lingering on your hip. But then he leans in closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “What’s stopping you then, huh?”

You shake your head vigorously, letting out a soft hum of disagreement, not entirely trusting his intentions. Toji’s always been a dirty fucking liar when it comes to things like this, promising things he knows will make you weak, things you know he’ll never deliver on. 

Yet somehow, even knowing that, you still find it in yourself to love him. And maybe that's why, despite everything, you still let him have you like this, completely bare, letting him slide into you raw, no barriers between you.

He wastes no time, pushing your legs back, your knees nearly pressed up to your chest as he thrusts into you. The intensity is overwhelming, each deep stroke driving you further into the mattress, making your body shake under his relentless pace. 

Toji's grip is strong, controlling, one hand pinning your thigh back as the other rests on your waist, holding you in place like he owns you. And in these moments, it feels like he does.

He has a hold on you in ways you can’t quite explain, two different kinds of control—one physical, the other something deeper, emotional, binding you to him in a way that’s undeniable.

“You’re really getting into it huh, sweetheart?” His voice drips with mock sweetness, but there’s a dark edge to it, each word paired with a heavy, punishing thrust that knocks the breath out of you. “You want me to fill up that sweet little belly?”

His words are a tease, malicious in the way only Toji can be, his voice laced with cruel affection. His grin matches it, sharp and selfish, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how every filthy promise pushes you closer to the brink. Your mind is spinning, caught between wanting to resist and wanting to give in completely.

Then, his pace slows slightly, his hand gripping your jaw as he forces you to look up at him, his gaze locking with yours. The teasing drops, replaced with something far more commanding. His eyes burn with an intensity that makes your stomach flip, and his voice, low and rough, sends shivers down your spine.

“Gimme fuckin’ words, baby.” he growls, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. “I need words.”

Your breath hitches, the weight of his command settling heavy in the pit of your stomach. You know what he’s asking for—he needs to hear it from you, needs the affirmation that you’re his, that you want this just as much as he does. His pace haughtily picks up again, a merciless rhythm, every thrust driving deeper as he waits for your response.

“I—” you try to catch your breath, your voice shaky as you struggle to form the words. But the sensation is too much, the way he’s filling you, stretching you, making it hard to think about anything but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. “I want you,” you finally manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Toji’s dark green eyes narrow slightly, unsatisfied with your answer. He grabs your chin harder, his pace growing even more ruthless. “That’s not enough, baby.” he growls, his voice a dangerous rasp. “Tell me. What do you want?”

Your mind is foggy, body trembling beneath him, and you can feel yourself on the edge again, teetering close to the point of no return. His dominance over you in this moment is absolute, and you can’t fight it, can’t resist the pull of his command. 

“I want you to fill me up, babe.” you finally gasp, your words spilling out in a rush, almost desperate. “I want your baby, Toji.”

His response is immediate, a low, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest as he picks up the pace, driving into you with a newfound intensity.

“That’s my good girl right there, hm?” he growls, his grip tightening as he slams into you with brutal force, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re gonna take all of me, aren’t you? Gonna let me give you exactly what you asked for.”

Your body answers for you, already falling apart beneath him as his words send you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. Every thrust pushes you deeper into the mattress, your legs shaking, your breath ragged as Toji takes what’s his, just like he always does.

And even through the haze of pleasure, you know there’s no escaping him. Toji has you—mind, body, and soul—and there’s nothing you wouldn’t give him, nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

Toji’s grip on you tightens as the intensity between you both heightens. His hips slam into yours with an unrelenting force, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, driving you closer to the edge with every movement.

Your husband was too good at playing this game of pleasure. You were hanging on for dear life, stuck in a pleasurable pandemonium. The rough rhythm of his body against yours, combined with the filthy words spilling from his mouth, sends shockwaves through your entire being.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby.” he growls, his voice dark with possession. “You’re gonna let me fill you up, huh? Make you mine all over again, just like you want.”

You can barely form coherent thoughts as your body responds to him, legs trembling with the sheer force of his thrusts. The sounds of your shared breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and the creak of the mattress fill the room, an unspoken rhythm between you two that’s as primal as it is intimate.

You’re completely at his mercy, pinned beneath him, helpless to do anything but feel. This man occupies everything in you as easily as you breathe. And you wanted him. You wanted more of him.

“Toji—” you gasp, his name leaving your lips like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, the heat of his body on yours, the way he’s completely taken over your senses.

He releases one of your legs, shifting slightly to lean down, his lips brushing against your ear, hot and heavy with every breath. “You’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone laced with both a command and a dark kind of affection. “Every last drop.”

His words send a jolt through you, pushing you closer to the edge you’ve been teetering on. The pressure builds inside you, winding tight in your belly, threatening to snap at any second. And Toji knows it. He can feel the way your body clenches around him, the way your breath hitches with every thrust.

“Say it again, baby.” he demands, his pace somehow growing even more brutal, hips pounding into you relentlessly. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart races, and it takes everything in you to gasp out the words between broken breaths. “I want you to fill me up… I want your baby, Toji, please—” Your voice is desperate, the plea tumbling out before you can stop it.

The satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he growls in response. “Good girl.”

And with that, he pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave, your voice breaking as you cry out.

Toji doesn’t stop, his thrusts driving deeper, harder, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left trembling, barely able to catch your breath.

He’s close too; you can feel it in the way his movements grow more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own release. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his pace faltering for a moment before he slams into you one final time, his hips flush against yours as he fills you completely, the warmth of him spilling deep inside you.

Toji’s body goes tense for a brief second, and then he collapses against you, his breath ragged and heavy as he rides out the last waves of his release. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his eyes softened now, the intense fire in them dimmed into something more tender.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, still holding you close, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “You’re perfect, perfectttt. Just like that, baby.” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, the raw edge gone. “Every damn time.”

You’re still catching your breath, your body exhausted but sated, the warmth of him pressed against you grounding you in the moment. There’s something comforting in the way he holds you after, a quiet reassurance that, despite his teasing and rough exterior, there’s a deep connection between you both that runs far beyond words.

Toji’s body stays pressed against yours, his breathing still heavy as he recovers from the intensity of what you just shared. The room feels warm, the quiet between you filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the lingering sensation of him still deep inside you. For a moment, it’s peaceful, like you’re both floating in the afterglow.

But that peace doesn’t last long.

You feel him stir against you, his lips brushing over your skin, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone. His hand slides over your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare skin. There’s a shift in the air, a subtle change in his energy that you recognize immediately. He’s not done—not even close.

Your husband recovers so fast, you couldn't even help but wonder what sort of super human he is. When he gets excited, he won't stop until he makes that excitement have fulfilment. And Fushiguro Toji will take an take. His monster of pleasure demands to be full.

“Toji…” you whisper, your voice already betraying the anticipation that’s starting to build again. You feel his smirk against your skin, the low chuckle that vibrates through his chest as he kisses his way up to your neck, nipping softly at your pulse point.

“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you? Need for my come to take, baby. Need to give you as much as possible.” he murmurs, voice dark with intent. His hand moves down, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing, as if testing your readiness for what’s to come. “Besides, baby, Iknow you can take more. You always do.”

Before you can even respond, Toji pulls out of you slowly, the absence of him leaving you aching, only to have him slide back in a moment later—deeper, harder, the sudden stretch drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He groans softly, his hands gripping your hips as he starts moving, this time with a slower, more deliberate rhythm.

His hips roll against yours, each thrust precise, dragging out the sensation with agonizing slowness. You can feel him fully, every inch of him stretching you, filling you up completely as he starts to build up the intensity again. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to take more of you.

“Toji—” you moan, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back as he presses you deeper into the mattress.

“Shh, baby. ” he whispers, leaning down so that his lips are inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you, like I always do. You'd let me, won't you, mama?”

And he does. He moves at his own pace, each thrust measured and controlled, as if he’s savoring every second of being inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, that commanding intensity from earlier returning as he watches every reaction you give him.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s making you feel so exposed, so vulnerable beneath him, but you can’t tear your gaze away. You’re completely at his mercy. Perhaps even more than before. It was just the way it was between the two of you. And you can't help but want it.

His hand moves between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles that send sparks shooting through your core. The combination of his deep, deliberate thrusts and the focused attention on your most sensitive spot is overwhelming, and you can already feel the pressure building again, faster this time.

“You’re such a good baby girl, my little wife, huh?” he groans, his voice gravelly with desire. “You love it, don’t you? Love the way I fuck you, mama.”

You nod, unable to form words, your body reacting to him instinctively. His thick thumb presses harder against your clit, and your hips buck up toward him, chasing the pleasure that’s building so quickly it’s almost dizzying.

“Use your words, my baby. I need your words to be clear, hm?” he orders, his voice sharp and commanding. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“I— I love it, babe. I….Oh–” you gasp, barely able to get the words out as the pleasure coils tight inside you. “I love how you fuck me, Toji.”

“That’s it, baby. Good girl, my pretty wife.” he groans, his pace picking up as he drives into you harder now, more relentlessly. “You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you? Like the good little wife you are? Gonna make me a daddy again, huh?”

You can feel yourself getting closer, every nerve in your body on fire as he takes you right to the edge again. His hand doesn’t stop, rubbing firm circles against your clit, and the pressure inside you becomes unbearable.

“Toji, please—” you moan, your voice desperate.

“I know, baby, I know.” he whispers, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic as he chases his own release. “Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart again.”

His words push you over the edge, and your orgasm crashes through you, harder than before. Your body clenches around him, back arching as your eyes squeeze shut, the pleasure almost too much to handle. Toji groans low in his throat as he feels you tighten around him, his hips slamming into yours as he rides out every wave of your release.

You’re barely coming down from your high when you feel him thrust into you one last time, his grip on your hips bruising as he finally lets go, his own release hitting him hard. He moans your name, the sound of it rough and primal, as he fills you completely, his body going rigid above you.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together. Toji’s weight is comforting against you, grounding you as you come back down from the intensity of everything that just happened.

Finally, he pulls out slowly, rolling onto his back beside you. His arm reaches out, pulling you close so that you’re curled against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. There’s a soft, satisfied hum in his throat as he presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers lazily stroking your arm.

“You’re something else, baby.” he murmurs, his voice full of lazy affection, though there’s still that edge of satisfaction in it, like he knows exactly how much control he has over you.

You don’t need to respond—he already knows how deeply he affects you, how much you need him just as much as he needs you. And as you lie there in the quiet, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think about how, despite all of Toji’s roughness and teasing, there’s no place you’d rather be than here, in his arms. And you wish, so desperately, that you could give him another child. 

══════════════════

epilogue

The next morning, you’re still tangled up in the sheets, but it’s not out of luxury. You try to move, but as soon as you shift an inch, your body protests with an aching reminder of exactly what Toji had done to you last night. Every muscle feels like it’s been through a battle, and you can't help but groan as you flop back onto the bed, surrendering to the pain.

From the doorway, you hear the sound of little footsteps padding across the floor. Megumi toddles in, clutching a stuffed animal under his arm, his wide eyes peeking over the edge of the bed. Behind him, Toji strides in, smirking like the smug devil he is.

“Morning, baby.” Toji says, far too chipper for someone who’d spent the entire night wrecking you. He’s holding a tray with what looks like breakfast—eggs, toast, and even a small bowl of fruit—but what stands out is the cup of coffee that you need more than air right now.

“Morning.” you croak, wincing as you try to sit up, only to immediately regret it. “I can’t feel my legs, babe. Pretty sure you broke me.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, clearly proud of himself. “Yeah? Thought you liked it when I went all out.”

“Liking it and being able to walk after are two different things, you know.” you grumble, pulling the blanket up higher as Megumi stares at you with that same curious expression.

Toji sets the tray down on the bedside table, then leans down to kiss your forehead. “Guess I’ll have to carry you everywhere today, huh?” His voice is thick with amusement, and you shoot him a half-hearted glare, but honestly, you’re too tired to fight back.

“Please do, babe. I’m basically a noodle.”

Just then, Megumi climbs up onto the bed, his little hands gripping the edge as he pulls himself up with determination. He plops down beside you, his stuffed animal tucked under his chin. You smile, your heart warming despite the soreness, and Toji hands you the tray, still smirking like he’s king of the world.

“Breakfast in bed, as promised,” he says, crossing his arms like he’s just done you the biggest favor in the world. “Made it with Megumi. Though, uh, you might wanna avoid the toast. He helped with that.”

You glance down at the toast in question, one piece charred to a crisp, the other half-raw in the middle. “I see his culinary skills are coming along nicely.”

Toji laughs, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “Hey, he’s learning. Can’t all be naturals like me.”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can shoot back a sarcastic remark, Megumi climbs into Toji’s lap, looking between the two of you with that innocent, wide-eyed look only toddlers can pull off. “Hm, hm. I love my good house husband, really.”

“As you should, baby.” He snickers back at you. “No one else will be like this for you but me.”

“I know, I know.” You say as you continue to eat.

He smiles and kisses your head. “Good.”

“Toji, babe….” you say, setting the tray aside and carefully reaching out to ruffle Megumi’s hair. “If I can’t walk today, you're on diaper duty.”

Toji looks genuinely horrified for a split second. "Now, wait a minute—"

"All your fault, Mr. 'let me give you a baby,’" you tease, biting into your eggs while giving him a pointed look. "So, now you get to deal with the consequences."

Megumi looks up at him, blinking with his bright big eyes, and Toji sighs dramatically. "Fine, fine." he says, giving you that classic Toji smirk. “But next time, you’re gettin’ the easy job.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a playful smile on your face. “Next time, maybe go easy on me so I can still stand.”

Toji grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, voice low and teasing. “No promises, baby.”

And with that, the morning unfolds with you lounging in bed, Fushiguro Megumi occasionally wandering over to offer you his stuffed animal, and Toji trying (and failing) to get through diaper duty without swearing under his breath. You can’t help but laugh at the sight of him, the big, tough man reduced to toddler chaos.

But despite everything;

the soreness, the teasing, the burnt toast—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is life.

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[daisiescomelate]

Prompt: Sukuna keeps getting tattoos because you keep kissing every inch of them.

Content: Mature, drabble.

div. plutism

He already had the dark lines running along his body when you met and they got a good amount of attention. Arms, legs, chest, back and face. And then one day he got a random tattoo after so long, a small thing over his chest that won him a peck every time he got off the shower.

He got a second tattoo after that because one of his friends saw that new one he got and asked him to accompany him to get one of his own. Already in the shop, Sukuna asked for a big piece on his arm that you traced every night in bed while waiting to fall asleep.

By the third one he started to notice the patterns.

If the tattoo was small it gained him butterfly kisses, and if it was bigger you took your time to trace every line. Kissing and kissing his skin. To get the line art, the details and the specs of color.

Then the third and the fourth and walking around the house without a shirt on were kisses garantied, and t-shirts stopped being a thing for him at home.

The neck tattoo was a great investment. Every time it caught your attention it gave him a solid thirty minutes of love and nibbles. You would climb onto his lap and trace the leaves and the roses and the skull with your lips and the tip of your tongue, and he would melt over the back of the couch or the pillow, keeping his head back and exposing his most vulnerable spot to you to bite and bruise it as you pleased.

At times he used his discovery to his advantage and with devious intent, like the quote that run from the middle of his ribs to his V line and down to his tight. It was a random line that you had mentioned in passing that you liked so he just put it there, and he shivered every time you kissed it letter by letter, rewriting every character with soft and warm kisses and pressing them with your teeth. No skips, no rush.

Yes, in the beggining he was trying to be hot about it and put more thought into what the pictures were, but he soon run out of ideas and even at some point it didn't even matter to him what the tattoo was. You mentioned you thought sharks were cool? Done. There is a type of flower that he noticed had caught your attention? Awesome. Some dumb lyrics that you kept repeating? Good enough for him. It saved him time and energy that way.

What was truly important? How would the lines flow over his body, where would your lips fall. Long lines dancing up and down, spiraling over him, thought-out for you to care for. Delicate, without rough edges so you would take your time.

A wink to one of your hobbies over his shoulder blade. A single feather of a bird you liked. A random drawing in your favorite color. A shrine because you had a date on a temple once. Of course he didn't tell you what they meant, and you couldn't tell because he was smart about it, only hinting at things in the images and waiting enough time for you to forget that you mentioned something before he got it, never picking something too obvious.

The picture didn't matter. Your breath over his skin, the sweetness of your lips, the way they locked your eyes all over him, were all the tattoos real purpose.

Ink, and ink, and ink, every tinted inch of skin was your conquering. A game that you didn't even knew you were playing, and where Sukuna was willing to give it all up.

[virginsexgod69]

❝Laundry Day ❞

18+

pairing Daryl Dixon x f!Reader

summary a laundry mishap turned into a dream come true 

cw smut, perv!daryl, perv!reader, panty kink, humiliation (if you squint), unprotected p in v, masturbation (male), pussy eating, cunnilingus, pining

3.9k words

“Here’s your laundry. I don’t know how you like it folded, so I didn’t fold it,” you said as you placed the basket of freshly cleaned laundry outside of his bedroom door. You lingered for a moment, but once he heard your footsteps walk away, he opened the door and grabbed the basket before shutting it again. He wanted to thank you, he really did, but as usual, he was too nervous. He sifted through the laundry and began putting it away, guilt still lingering in the forefront of his mind for not thanking you. 

    Like clockwork, every Sunday, you did everyone in the house’s laundry. You were skilled in combat -against the living and the dead-, you were smart, you were so many great things that he didn’t know why you would delegate such a paltry task to yourself. Ever since Woodbury fell and the group accepted you into the prison, you took on such tasks; laundry, cleaning, the typical household chores. Everyone assumed it was because you weren’t trained to face what was outside of the secure walls of the prison, so nobody paid too much attention to you. But when you ended up tagging along for a run and saving everyone’s ass, people started noticing you, Daryl started noticing you. 

Daryl actually found himself admiring you. He admired how detail oriented you were -although he found it rather annoying at first- how you picked up on the things most would miss. He appreciated how open you were. When most of the Woodburians would turn their noses up at the squirrel he brought back to eat, you tucked in like it were any other meal. You took care of everybody and although he’d never admit it, it made his heart swell. You even took care of him, always making sure he had more than enough to eat, doting over him whenever he came back from a run, insisting to be the one to patch up his injuries. All those little moments together formed a unique friendship between you two, but as soon as Daryl realized it was more than friendship that he wanted, he distanced himself from you. You were kindhearted, smart, beautiful, and selfless and he just saw himself as a big, mean, gruff redneck who could never be enough from you. So he stayed away from you, he was afraid to hurt you and it hurt too much to be near you, but not have you. 

   Something red peeking out from the darkness of his clothes snapped him out of his thoughts. Curiously, he pulled the garment out with pinched fingers. It was a pair of red panties. They were either yours or Michonne’s, but something about them told him they were yours. His mind immediately went to places he didn’t want it to go, imagining you in nothing but those little red panties. The way he knew your plump ass would look delectable in them made his cock twitch with eagerness. He could not think about you this way. His face went red with shame as he shoved the red fabric underneath his pillow. 

  He tossed and turned, unable to find sleep. The thought of your underwear underneath his pillow weighed too heavily on him. Maybe if he just gave the panties back to you, he’d be able to fall asleep. The awkwardness that situation would put him in immediately shut that idea down. He thought about going out for a smoke, but didn’t want to risk running into you on the way out. He wasn’t in any state to see you, considering the thoughts of you running rampant in his mind. The thought of you wearing those panties, soaked with desire, begging him to rip them off you. His boxers grew tight on him. 

Fuck it. 

He’d do it one time, then throw them away and just hope you never ask about them. 

His hand slipped under the pillow, feeling for the soft red fabric. Once he found it, he immediately put it to his nose, hoping to smell you. The smell of laundry detergent disappointed him, but he pulled his hard dick out of his boxers anyway. He stroked it a few times, letting pre-cum bubble at the tip before using it as lube. He knew your fleshy, velvety walls would feel ten times better than his rough hand. He dreamed of feeling it clenching around him as you bounced on his cock, with those red panties pulled aside. He increased the pace of his fist as he felt himself getting closer. Your tits would look so delicious as they bounced in unison with his thrusts. He quickly pulled the crotch of your panties over his tip before emptying his load into them, stifling a grunt. God, you’d look too damn sexy with his cum leaking out of your cunt. He wiped the spilled remnants of his pleasure up with the fabric before shamefully shoving it back under the pillow. 

He slept good that night. 

  Sunday rolled around again, which meant laundry day. You had collected everyone else’s laundry, aside from Daryl’s. When you knocked on his door, you got no reply, so you washed the other clothes before coming back. When you came back again, there was still no response, so you let yourself in. The room was empty -and probably was earlier too- making you feel a little silly for not letting yourself in the first time. You picked up the articles of clothing on the floor and tossed them into the basket held to your hip. As you bent down to pick a shirt off the floor, something under the man’s pillow caught your eye. With pinched fingers, you pulled out the red fabric only to find it was your favorite pair of panties that you’ve been missing all week. 

"What the..." you muttered to yourself as you examined the garment. It was balled up in the center, held together by god knows what. Upon a closer look, you realized it was dried cum. Daryl's dried cum. Which could only mean that he masturbated in your panties. Your cunt throbbed and your face went hot as you tossed the dirtied garment into the basket. Your mind was reeling. 

Did this mean Daryl liked you? 

 He'd been distant with you for months now. You had no idea why, but you knew trying to find out why would only push him away further, so you let things be. Your current relationship with him felt no deeper than that of acquaintances, which is what hurt you the most. With everything that's happened since the prison fell up until now, you didn't exactly have the time to try patch things up with Daryl. Didn't have time to ask him where you stood. Didn't have time to see if maybe he liked you, too. But maybe finding your panties stained with his cum hidden underneath his pillow was a sign?

  You decided to try something, not thinking for too long so you wouldn't get cold feet. You hastily shimmied off your shorts and slipped off your panties before putting your shorts back on. You hoped Daryl would like these. It was a simple black thong with a little red ribbon-bow on the front, just below the wasteband. The sound of the door opening downstairs sent you into a small panic. You shoved the thong underneath his pillow in replacement for the red pair and hurried out of his room.

Unluckily, you ran into him in the hallway. 

"Hi!" you awkwardly chirped out, trying not to look guilty. 

"Hey," he replied. 

It was awkward now. For the both of you for similarly different reasons. 

"I gotta—I gotta go wash these now. Uh, bye!" you maneuvered your way around him and made a beeline to the laundry room. 

 Daryl felt anxious for the rest of the day. When he saw you hurrying out if his room with a flustered look on your face. He wasn't mad at you for being in there, it wasn't uncommon for you to just go in and take the dirty clothes. But he was worried that you saw something you weren't supposed to see and be disgusted by him. 

  He was stressed. Instinctively, he reached under his pillow for your panties. Despite having come in them a couple times already, Daryl continued using them. He felt it was the closest he'd ever get to actually being with you. When he pulled out a different pair of panties, he was surprised, but didn't stop to think of the implications. He inspected the underwear. It was different from the last, but that didn't stop his cock from hardening. 

 Out of curiosity, he lifted the thong to his nose, hoping maybe these'd smell like you. He could've came right then and there. The panties smelled like everything he hoped they would. They smelled like you. He let out a groan and reached for his cock, palming himself through his boxers. Impatiently, he pulled his painfully hard dick out. With one hand holding the panties to his nose, the other stroked himself ferociously. He wanted to see your pretty lips around him, to feel your throat gagging around the length. He let out a noise between a grunt and a moan as he fantasized about you swallowing him hole. He wanted to hear the pretty noises you'd make while tears streamed down your face as you struggled to fit all of him into your mouth. He licked the crotch part of your panties, tasting your essence which only brought him closer to finishing. Like all the other times, he brought the panties down to his dick and came in them, imagining it was him coming down your throat. 

Daryl hated that he ruined another pair of your panties, but god did it feel good to have just a taste of you.

  Your suspicions were confirmed. Last night, when Daryl finally went to bed, you crept out of your room and over to his. You very sneakily cracked the door open, just enough to see Daryl pleasuring himself with your panties over his face. You didn't mean to watch for so long, but you couldn't look away. The moonlight shone through his window highlighting his muscles. The way his arms flexed with every stroke had you rubbing your thighs together. Every noise he made made you wetter and wetter, wishing that was you in there making him feel good. Once he finished, you silently closed the door and hurried back to your room. 

He wouldn't come into your panties if he didn't like you, right? 

Tomorrow, you'd bite the bullet and find out. Your relationship with the bowman had become so strained that you were willing to risk what little the two of you had just to see if there was a chance he felt the same way about you. 

 Nighttime came around again and you knew it was now or never. Those who were home were asleep, with the exception of Daryl. You knew he was awake, because you had your ear to his door, listening to the sounds of his pleasured grunts, much like you did the night before. You gently knocked on the door. 

“Daryl,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. 

You heard some rushed shuffling behind the door before he opened it just enough for him to peek through. 

“Wha’,” he snapped. 

“Um, can I come in? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Righ’ now? Can’t it wait ’til mornin’?” 

“Please?” You gave him those doe eyes he’s never been able to say no to in the past. 

He sighed but reluctantly let you in before shutting the door. Once you were in his room, you realized he had nothing on, other than his boxers. The moonlight shone on his body, making him look delicious, but you needed to focus! You walked further into the room and sat on his bed. It was still warm with his body heat. A look of nervousness flashed across his face, but he quickly returned back to his usual stoic countenance. You suppressed a smirk.

“Well, what’d you wanna talk ‘bout?” He asked, growing impatient. 

You leaned all the way back onto his pillow, the pillow you suspected he was hiding your panties under. Daryl’s thumb flew to his mouth and he began nibbling on the skin beside the nail, a telltale sign that he was feeling anxious. 

“I’m missing a pair of panties,” you said smugly. 

“Wha— Wha’s tha’ gotta do with me?” He replied, stumbling over his words. You could see his skin flush under the moonlight. 

“I was wondering if you seen ‘em. They look kinda like this.” You slowly pulled up the hem of your t-shit, exposing the plush skin of your thighs, then the panties you were wearing that were almost identical to the ones you left Daryl on Sunday. Except, these ones had a white bow instead of a red one. Daryl shifted awkwardly and ran a hand over his face. 

“Godammit, woman, I dunno what ya wan’ from me.” He was really getting nervous now. 

“Cut the bullshit, Daryl.” You smirked up at him as you slowly slid your hand under his pillow. He awkwardly lunged toward you to try and stop you from finding what he was hiding, but he wasn’t fast enough. You held the cum-soaked garment up between you and him in your pinched fingers. You could tell the man was ashamed, but you couldn’t help squeezing your legs together. He looked so cute when he was embarrassed. 

“Tha’s not— It’s not wha-”

“Daryl,” your tone was firm, effectively stopping him from trying to explain himself. 

“I don’t mind you taking my panties, but if you want them, you have to take them off of me.” 

He froze, likely from not expecting that to be your reaction. 

“Wha-“

“Want ‘em or not?” You lifted your t-shirt even higher. 

Daryl apprehensively approached you almost as if he thought this was a dream and any sudden moment would snap him back into reality. His big, rough hands clasped on either side of your hips. His fingers slid under the waistband and he slowly pulled down the skimpy black garment. He was shocked to see how wet the panties were once he got them off of you. He couldn’t help but gawk at the sight between your legs.

“What goes on in your mind when you pleasure yourself with my panties every night?” You asked, both teasingly and out of genuine curiosity. 

“You— You knew?!” 

“Of course. Who’d you think left you a fresh pair on Sunday?” 

He stood there, frozen. You started to feel guilty for teasing him too much. When he still didn’t move to do anything, you started to think you misread the entire situation. Maybe it wasn’t even you he fantasized about every night as he came. Your face felt hot and your eyes burned with unshed tears, this would all be so embarrassing if he wasn’t even thinking of you in that way. With a shaky hand, you pulled your shirt down to cover yourself up. 

“Y-you don’t have to tell me anything. I probably went and got the wrong idea anyway…”  You moved to get out of his bed, but he gently pushed you back down. Your eyes snapped up to his. You saw a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. 

“Nah. Didn’t misread nothin’,” he said as he grabbed your ankle. Your heart started beating faster, anticipating his next move. This was really happening. He put both of your legs over his shoulders as he crawled onto the bed, settling himself between your thighs, right in front of your dripping cunt. 

“You don’ got any idea what ya do to me.” He kissed your inner thigh before sucking it, making sure to leave a mark. The little sounds you made made his already hardening cock twitch. He finally gave your pussy some attention, licking up the juices of your arousal. The feeling of his tongue on you and the tickle of his facial hair made you clench around nothing. 

“Daryl, please,” you whimpered. 

“Nah, not yet. Now that I gotcha, I’ma take my time.”  You whined in response but were quickly silenced by his thumb on your clit. He rubbed slow circles, fast enough to feel good, but too slow to give you an orgasm. Before you could ask him to go faster, his tongue entered you. Reflexively, you squeezed your thighs together, trapping his head between them in the process. That didn’t stop him, though. His tongue swirled around inside of you as he increased the pace on your clit. You bit back a moan and opted for grabbing a fistful of of his hair instead. The vibrations of his groan between your legs made your toes curl. He continued to eat you out, until he couldn’t breathe anymore. He tapped your outer thigh and you quickly released him. 

“S-sorry!” You had forgotten that he needed to breathe. 

“Don’ apologize.” He put his mouth on your clit at the same time he inserted a finger inside you with ease. He sucked on your clit while his finger touched you in places your own couldn’t reach. He added another and curled them, earning a moan from you. 

“Daryl, I’m close!”  He continued his ministrations until he felt you involuntarily clench around his fingers. Your legs shook as you came around his fingers, yet he continued to pump them in and out of you. You looked down at him once you came to. He looked at home between your thighs. You smiled down at him and saw his face relax a little. He reluctantly removed himself from between your thighs and sat up before fiddling with the bottom of your t-shirt as if he were asking for permission to take it off. You nodded and sat up too, coming face to face with him. In the moonlight, you could see how dilated his pupils were. You could hardly tell that his eyes were supposed to be blue. You lifted your arms and he timidly lifted your shirt over your head before tossing it aside. He stared at you, slack jawed, enamored by the sight before him. 

“Goddamn,”  he whispered. 

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. The taste of you on his tongue made your mind go numb. You moaned into his mouth as you felt his fingers’ firm grip on your ass. Keeping the kiss in tact, he pulled you onto his lap, grinding you onto his clothed member. He grunted, much like you heard him the night before. You wished to hear him more, but knew you couldn’t risk waking the others in the house. You pulled away from the kiss. 

“Daryl, I wanna feel you,” you whined. 

“Dammit girl, be patient,” he teased. 

“I’ve already waited for like…months!” The confession made his eyes go wide, but you weren’t in the right mind to reflect on your accidental revelation. The bowman pulled his hard dick from his boxers and slid it up and down your slippery slit, coating it in your juices before lining it up with your entrance. Impatiently, you sank down on it, not realizing how big he actually was. Your pained whimper sobered him. 

“Y’alright?” He asked worriedly. 

“Yeah, just wait a ‘sec.” 

The stretch hurt so good, but you weren’t ready for him to move yet. His warm hand cupped your cheek before he swiped his thumb under your eye, wiping away a tear you didn’t know you shed. 

“Ya sure? We can stop if you wan’,” he said in a gentle voice. Your heart swelled and you struggled to hold back a grin. 

“You’re so sweet, Daryl, but I promise I’m fine.”  He placed gentle kisses on your collarbone, going further down until he was at your breasts. He took one in his mouth, nipping and sucking at the soft, supple flesh. He removed his hand from your ass to give the other one equal attention. You threw your head back and moaned in pure bliss, but his hand quickly flew to your mouth. 

“You gon’ wake up everyone in Alexandria.”  He connected your mouth to his once again while still pawing at your breasts. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. You slowly lifted yourself from his cock before dropping back down again, earning a groan from him. You continued your movements, eventually finding a rhythm. 

“Yer takin’ me so good, baby.” His words had your pussy fluttering around him. Your arms unraveled from around his neck and started to slide down his back, but he abruptly pulled away from the kiss and grabbed your wrists from behind him. He pushed you back down into the mattress and held your wrists in each of his hands beside your head, now being the one on top. Despite being inside you, he suddenly couldn’t look you in the eye.

“Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?” You asked, worry evident in your voice. 

“M’fine.” 

“A-are you sure?” 

“S’nothin’.” He snapped out of whatever it was and started thrusting into you. His sudden shift was quickly forgotten as he pounded you into the mattress. He filled you up so good that you could feel the veins on his dick licking up and down your walls. He was close, you could tell by the way he was losing his rhythm and the way his dick twitched inside you. Daryl let go of your wrists and weaved his fingers through yours, holding your hands as you both got closer to the edge. Your back arched and your pussy squeezed his cock as you came. Daryl continued fucking you until he couldn’t hold his own orgasm back any longer. He pulled out and shot his hot seed on your tits and stomach. The physical exertion exhausted you. You could barely keep your eyes open as Daryl wiped his cum off you with your discarded panties. 

 Daryl was an early riser, and that didn’t change just because he had the best sex of his life last night. You were still sound asleep. Daryl admired the way the early morning sun made your skin glow and the shadow it made your long lashes cast on your cheeks. You looked so beautiful, so at peace. He was afraid that all would change once you woke up and remembered what went down last night, despite you being the one to initiate it. He carefully untangled himself from your arms and put on a shirt before slipping back into bed. Your eyes fluttered open once he was settled. Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms back around him and nuzzled into his chest. 

“Mornin’, Sunshine,” he said, his voice still raspy with sleep. 

“Good morning,” you replied sleepily. 

He had a question that weighed on his chest since he woke up. He wanted to know what you meant when you said you’ve been waiting for months for this. He was about to ask you, but he stopped himself. You had drifted back to sleep again. You looked so peaceful and he didn’t want to disturb you with his racing thoughts. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline and let you continue to sleep on his chest. 

notes i proofread this to the best of my abilities. i hope this was good. this idea came to me in the shower a few days ago and i just had to write it heehee =p i PROMISE i will get to the requests in my inbox and for those of you reading Seclusion, I will update that soon.

thanks for reading !!! <3

[ssvnriseya]

KEEP A SECRET (D.D.)

summary - daryl can't seem to get enough of the farmer's daughter, you.

warnings - MDNI 18+ very dark!daryl × innocent!reader, slight obsessive behavior, slight stalker behavior, manipulation, masturbation (m!), loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, baby trapping, age gap (reader is 20, daryl is mid 30's), intended lowercase.

note - OKAY, I'M SPOILING YOU ALL, THIS IS TOO MUCH SMUT?! IT TOOK ME A WEEK TO WRITE THIS, I'M SORRY! I WAS JUST SO BUSY; I COULD'VE FINISHED THIS IN TWO DAYS OR THREE IF I HADN'T BEEN BUSY. daryl's a bit of an asshole and dark at the end.

masterlist

you watched as a boy walked away from your sister, you smiled at him as he passed you.

he tried to smile back but failed immediately, the frown winning him over, he looked down the ground instead.

he walked away, shaking his head and tipping his hat off every now and then in frustration.

your face immediately converted into full worry as you glanced at your sister who seemed to be deep in thought.

you walked over to her slowly, the green grass beneath you falling as you stepped on them quite carefully.

the sky was as blue as it could get and it was a clear sunny day, and you loved it.

the trees danced with the wind softly as the birds living in them seemed to be singing along, chirping.

you smiled at maggie as you approached her. "hey." she greeted you, you beamed at her once again.

"maggie, was that glenn?" you asked in worry and wiggled your eyebrows at her, she shook her head giving you a small smile.

"just a crazy asian with a name." she responded, you nodded and continued looking for eggs at the chicken coops.

"well, i think the only thing about him crazy is about you." you replied back as you bent down to pick up an egg.

"trust me, he doesn't know what he wants, or what he is crazy about." she fought back, determined to make you know.

"i think he's old enough to know what he wants." you tried to defend the boy you hardly knew.

"you done there? how many eggs did nessie lay?" she changed the subject you looked at the chicken you and maggie, along with beth named a year before the apocalypse started.

"she's healthy... she has four babies." you said excited, you looked at maggie through your lashes and she groaned, looking away.

"no! you're not keeping one to raise as a pet!" she immediately shut your thought down even before you said them.

"just one? just one little chick?" you asked and pouted when she shook her head again.

"no." she said, her mind is settled on 'no chickens inside the house, baby or not!'

"but, it's gonna be so cute when it's hatched and grown a bit!" you exclaimed in excitement, imagining the chick running around the house.

"no..." she shook her head and said your full name making you pout, she really wasn't going to change her mind.

"i'll take care of it, feed it, and bathe it." you promised her, even holding your right hand up as a sign.

"and what will you feed it?" she raised an eyebrow at you, continuing to check the coop.

"my bread, i get two pieces every morning, i'll save one for it to eat the whole day." you planned slowly, not entirely sure.

"it's a baby." she pressed on and you nodded in agreement, you smiled at her.

"when you and glenn go on a run... w–will you get me a formula and the thing to feed it with? if you ever came across one, don't risk your life for it, okay?" you rambled to her.

"fine." she finally gave in, making you smile in delight. you beamed at her and hugged her so tight

"thank you, mags!" you kissed her cheeks and she smiled, she really loved making you happy.

"take care of it, okay? don't let it die." she reminded you sternly and you nodded.

"i see how glenn looks at you, maggie... i think he really likes you." you gave her a bright smile and handed her the basket full of eggs.

she didn't reply and checked the coops for more eggs, "no more eggs." she said.

she took the basket from you, "I'll check out the stables, you should go in." you told her sweetly.

she nodded and looked around, then she stopped her gaze before looking away after giving a nod.

you looked around but can't seem to find anyone. "was that glenn?" you asked her, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"no, take care at the stables. scream for help if anything happens." she said, care and worry evident in her voice.

"okay! i'm going to check out nervous nelly, i need to ease her nerves." you tried to joke and maggie rolled her eyes with a smile.

"careful." she warned one last time, you nodded and took a few steps back, waving at her happily.

"bye, maggie!" you shouted when she was far enough. she nodded and finally turned around and started walking to the house.

you turned around and walked to the stables slowly, humming to yourself.

you passed by a campsite rather far than the others, you stopped a bit and analyzed it.

it had squirrels hanging around a line and a tent that was beside a rock structure.

you walked forward, curiosity winning the best of you. your boots stopped outside the tent.

it was closed and you looked towards the house, which was quite far from here.

you heard grunts and moans inside suddenly making you wonder if it was one of your neighbors before the turn.

you kneeled by the soft green grass, your dress covering your knees from the rocks and dirts that may stick to your knees.

"hello?" you asked and waited for a response, then right after there was a string of curses.

then the tent opened, you stood up and took a few steps back for safety.

then a man came out, probably a lot older than you. he then scowled when he saw you.

"are you with mr. grimes?" you asked him politely and walked near him.

he didn't answer so you frowned, was he mute or deaf? you can't tell but you were sure he was very bothered with your presence.

you suddenly felt embarrassed, he was probably sleeping and you woke him up, at least you saved him from his nightmares, right?

"i'm sorry, did i wake you up?" you asked as you were the type of girl who really wants to know everything.

"doesn't matter." he grunted and you smiled, so he wasn't deaf or mute at all!

"i thought you were a walker 'cause you were groaning..." you confessed shyly.

his face turns red and looks away from you, why was he embarrassed? it isn't embarrassing to have nightmares, even you still have nightmares.

"was it nightmares? even though it isn't night anymore..." you asked him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

he took a few seconds before hesitantly nodding, you spot a log near him and walked towards it, sitting.

"i have nightmares too, you don't have to be embarrassed about it. it's totally normal." you comforted him, squinting your eyes at him as you smiled.

"how'd ye end up here? isn't your daddy gon' come crazy lookin for ya?" he asked in a mocking manner.

"no, i told maggie that i'll be checking the stables for nelly, she's always nervous..." you said as you scratched your neck.

"the stables tha' way." he told you pointing at the stables, a bit of a distance from him.

"yeah, i know. i've lived here all my life." you told him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"so why are ye here?" he asked, you shook your head at him.

"i was just curious who stayed here, it's so far from the others. are you being bullied? do you want me to tell dadd—" you rambled.

"nah, i jus' like my space. no nosy neighbor or anythin'." he admitted.

"okay, i'll get going, i just check up on you." you smiled at him and stood up from the log.

he grunted in response, you turned around to walk to the stables but stopped.

you turned to face him again, you caught eye contact with him.

"wait! what's your name?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in curiousity once again.

"daryl... dixon." he told you, still hesitantly, as always.

"okay! i'll come visit you tomorrow mr. dixon!" you said cheerfully.

you waved at him, a bright smile on your face. you turned around and continued your way to your original destination.

you can feel his stare burning through your back but you ignored it, was he so angry he was burning holes into you?

"daddy? who's been shot?" you asked as you went down the stairs rubbing your eyes.

your sister, beth, woke you up and said that someone has been shot, only a graze in the head and your daddy's already fixed it.

"who told you?" maggie asked as she handed you your cup of coffee, you took it with a smile and a good morning.

"beth, she woke me up." you said and maggie nodded.

"it's daryl." maggie responded to you for your father, seeing that her dad, your dad, who is also beth's dad is busy checking the medication stock.

"the one near the barn?" you asked her as you took a sip of the coffee, taking a seat on the counter as you played with the hem of your night dress.

"i guess so." maggie replied, finishing off her bread. then you remembered something.

"hey, where's my chick?" you asked her, jumping off the counter and scanning the cupboards for the eggs, ready to take one.

"what chick?" your dad butted in, having finished with checking the stocks.

"maggie told me yes, daddy." you quickly defended, still not explaining.

"told her she could keep an egg to raise, as long as she keeps it alive." maggie said.

you beamed at your daddy, plastering on your most charming and pleading eyes.

"you know i can't say no to you." your dad chuckled and shook his head.

"i know, daddy." you hugged him as he kissed the top of your head, ruffling it.

"are you coming with beth, maggie, patricia and jim for gun training?" your dad asked as you backed away from the hug.

"i don't feel like it today, daddy... not after beth interrupted my sleep." you glanced at your younger sister, teasing her.

"alright." he said with a huff, making you pout.

"is that okay with you, daddy?" you asked him for permission, he nodded once again.

"that's alright with me." he said, you smiled at him as you got back to your coffee.

"who's the ones staying behind?" you asked your older sister as you swing your legs back and forth.

"just you and daddy." she said, glancing out the window a little longer than a second.

"okay." you shrugged.

she glanced out the window again and kept on repeating it, making you worried for her.

"are you alright, do you see any walkers?" you asked her as you went near the window to take a glance.

she tried to stop you but it was already too late, you had already seen it.

"oh." you said and smiled at her, it was glenn having breakfast with the others who were living outside their house.

"you're so whipped for him, did something happen between you?" you asked her as you took a step back.

she turned red and avoided your gaze, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"did he hurt you?" you immediately asked your older sister as you were worried for her.

she shook her head, placing her empty cup on the sink.

"okay. i think i'll go check up on mr. dixon." you told her as you finished the rest of your coffee, placing it down on the counter.

she nodded and waved you off, you smiled and took a few steps back, before turning around and rushing upstairs.

you scanned the first guest room and saw that there was no one, so you closed it.

you took a few steps towards the second door and knocked on it softly.

you opened the door and found the man you were looking for, you smiled at him as he glanced at you.

"how are you feeling?" you asked as you walked towards him, gently closing the door behind you.

you sat at the side of the bed as you checked him, he looked pretty bruised.

you let the back of your hand feel his temperature, he flinched but didn't say anything else.

"as shitty as i look." he responded as he gazed up the ceiling, ignoring the aching pain in his head.

"i'm sure andrea didn't mean it, she thought you were one of them so she tried to shoot you to protect everyone else in this camp." you explained to him what you see in the situation.

he grunted, "sure she didn't." you frowned and nodded then gazed around the room.

"this is my favorite room." you told him as you analyzed him, from the bandages on his head to the dirts on his face and tattoos on his muscular chest.

"you've got two rooms?" he asked rather harshly, he can't blame himself as he's grown to always share things and the girl in front of him has two rooms.

"no, silly. i like to stay here when i'm feeling sad... i love the view by that window, you should check it before you guys find sophia and leave..." you smiled at him, the smile never faltering.

"ya want us to leave already?" he asked and you turned red, embarrassed.

"n—no! i kind of love having you guys here, it's not boring as before..." you told him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"jus' teasin' ye." he smirked at you, making you sighed out in relief.

"what's your job before all of this?" you asked him as you put the rest of your body up the bed.

you crawled over to the head of the bed and laid your back against the headboard.

"what ye doin'?" he asked as he watched your every movement, you can feel his heated gaze at your skin.

"i'm sitting..." you stated the obvious and he groaned, deciding to let it go.

"so what's your job?" you asked him as you reached out to touch his hair.

he snapped his eyes at you making you giggle and pull away from him, pretending to do something else.

"jus' everything, as long as it gives money." he stated, his voice cold making you feel guilty.

it must have been bad memories and you had the audacity to bring it up.

"sorry, i didn't know it was a sensitive topic to you." you admitted as you laid down the bed.

you still kept a fair distance between the both of you as you laid in your back.

you turned to your side, facing him as he was still facing the ceiling.

"it wasn't." he argued making you nod, not truly believing the two words coming out of his mouth.

"have you had breakfast?" you asked him as you gazed at his side profile.

"'m not hungry." he told you, you still didn't believe him. you sat up and slide down the bed, getting on your feet.

"i'll make you something to eat." you told him as you smiled, walking towards the door, opening it as you went outside and closing it.

once you went outside to make him something to eat, he immediately darted his hand at his chest, breathing heavily.

"fuck." he cursed as he can feel his jeans tightening. he tried to shift it but failed miserably.

he had to make this quick if he doesn't want you to notice when you come back, or catch him on the act.

he shifted slightly, going up the bed and sitting up, back against the headboard.

he feels guilty, he wants to stop himself as he's having forbidden thoughts about you.

he was almost caught by you yesterday when you went to his little campsite.

he was jerking off, to the thought of you. he felt an invisible string of attraction when he saw you when they first arrived.

he loved the way you smiled at each one of them even though you hardly knew them.

he loved you in your cute dresses, almost as if teasing him with the below knee length.

everything you did had a meaning to him, with you going to check up on him and laying in bed with him.

he absolutely loved the feeling of your hand on his forehead when you checked his temperature.

call him obsessed but he grabbed the part of comforter you sat on.

he brought it to his face, sniffing it and immediately relaxing to the smell of you.

to the smell of honey and candy. he hates sweet smells but when it comes to you, he's totally head over heels for it.

he slowly unbuckled his belt and took it off, shifting with the buttons of his jeans as he slipped the zipper off.

he lifted his hips slightly as he lowered his jeans just below the butt.

he grabbed his semi-hard cock as he groaned just when he touched it.

he tried thinking of other things, imagining two people having sex or the pornographic photos merle showed him.

but his mind left drifting back to you, you and your cute dresses that had no intentions of teasing him ever intentionally.

the way you bent over to pick eggs from the chicken coop, showing a little bit of your legs.

he felt like a victorian man seeing some ankles, but instead he saw your legs.

it's not much but he gets a hard on when he glances at your milky white legs.

he raised his hand up and down as he threw his head back, he imagined the way your pretty little mouth would fit his cock in.

he could tell he would have a hard time fitting it in, if ever you and him happened.

he can picture you being a moaning mess beneath him as you cried his name in pleasure.

you, begging him to go faster as your nearing, you, clenching the sheets as you come all over his cock.

the way your breasts would wiggle when he thrusts into you from above and from behind.

he can see the way your cunt hugs around his cock as he had a hard time thrusting in.

but due to the pre-cum from both of you he will start having it easy but still hard due to your tight cunt.

he kept pumping his cock on his hand as he raised his hips, he then imagined fucking you over the window as you glanced at the beautiful view outside.

he stifled a moan when he moved his hands faster, then after a few seconds his hands was covered with his warm white liquid.

he could hear a slight shuffle as he wiped his hands on the towel on the bedside table, he stuffed his cock back in his jeans, fastening it and buckling his belt back.

he wiped his hands on the comforter, if it ever had any liquid left then covered half of his body with the comforter.

then just a minute later, the door opened, revealing you carrying a tray with a bright smile.

"here, coffee and bacon..." you placed the tray beside him as you took a chair and sat next to him.

"y'want?" he asked as he chewed on the bacon, you shook your head.

"daddy is busy, he's busy with carl." you told him as you stood up from the chair, going to one of the cupboard.

"so what?" he asked as he took a sip of his coffee, still chewing on the bacon.

"i'll be your nurse today, isn't that great? i'll get to know you more, mr. dixon." you smiled at him, turning your head back as you rummaged through the things inside.

you grabbed a roll of bandage and a few ointments for him, "better." he whispered under his breath as he tried to avert his eyes from the way your dress rose every time you stood on your tippy toes to reach inside the cupboard.

"i'll change your bandages, they must be covered in your blood." you told him as you closed the cupboard, going back to sit at the chair beside him.

"you should finish that first and i'll give you pain killers." you told him as he nodded, drinking the rest of his coffee.

he set the tray aside as you popped open the organizer, giving him a pain killer.

he took it and drank it with the water you brought earlier, you started assisting him to sitting up straighter.

you slowly took off his bandage as you looked across his back, "it's beautiful." you assured him when he tried to shift away from your touch.

"no scars are beautiful." he argued, hating that you lied to him to make him feel better.

"well, yours are. it shows that you survived that stage of life. i like your tattoos too, does it hurt?" you asked him as you wiped his back.

"when ye get 'em, and fer the first few weeks." he responded with a grunt as you stopped cleaning his back.

"i don't think i'll find someone who still does tattoos." you squint your eyes as you started opening the cap of the ointment.

you applied some to his side gently as he flinched every now and then.

"trust me, ye don't wanna get one." he groaned as he flinched away from your touch.

you pulled away from him as you placed the cap back of the ointment.

you took the bandage, "okay, tell me if it's too tight." you said as you looked at him.

he looked away before he could think about anything else dirty on your sentence.

he simply nodded and raised his arms a bit as you wrapped your arms around him.

you placed the end of the bandage on his back as you circled the bandage, wrapping him.

your touch burned him but he didn't dare say anything else, he simply enjoyed the feelings of your small hands on him.

you finished wrapping his torso in bandage, you set it aside as you sealed the bandage.

"i-i... saw you earlier." you admitted, cheeks red as you stared at the bed.

"w-what?" he stuttered, hoping that you didn't catch him masturbating and moaning your name.

"you were s-saying my name... and you were touching the thing here." you pointed at his bulge as you looked at his eyes.

your blush darkened when you made eye contact with him, his eyes darkened as he looked at your flustered form.

"i... was just trying to make my pain go away." he lied as he looked away from you.

"oh... i learned that, my classmate told me they do that and release a white cream once they feel better." you told him with interest.

"yeah..." he went along as he nodded immediately, he can feel himself growing hard again so he placed a pillow on top.

"are you feeling pain again?" you asked him as your eyes filled with worry.

"y-yeah." he hesitated, she went near him as she touched his forehead.

"i'll make you feel better, daddy told me to take care of you." you sat on the heels of your feet.

"you should." he didn't know where his confidence came from but he used it.

"okay... i-i don't know how to start." you admitted, looking up at him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"take off my jeans." he told her softly, she followed what he said and soon slipped his jeans off his legs.

"i'll make you feel better, mr. dixon... i promise." you smiled at him reassuringly.

you place two hands to wrap around his angry cock, you stare at it with amusement.

it was your first time seeing one, except for the drawings in schools that's presented in science.

"i-is all this big?" you asked as you can't even wrap a hand on him.

"no, baby." he caressed your jaw as you nodded, you copied his actions moments earlier.

you stroke his cock carefully, watching his face contort into pleasure as he closed his eyes.

"are you starting to feel better, mr. dixon?" you asked as you continued stroking his length.

"yes..." he nodded as he gripped the headboards, opening his eyes to see you looking at him with a smile.

you continued moving your hand up and down as he held back a quiet moan, in case hershel heard.

his cock twitched as you stared at it weirdly, it's veins were more prominent and his tip is red.

he was most likely ten inches long or maybe more, he was very thick.

"it feels good... baby." he moaned as he thrust his cock into your hand.

"tell me once you feel better, okay?" you asked him as you stroked him faster.

his cock twitches one more time before his cum rushes down and drips down your hand.

he moaned heavily as he panted, coming down from his high.

"i did it! i made you feel better!" you exclaimed in happiness, not really minding the white liquid covering your hand.

"yes, baby. you did." he smiled as he ruffles your hair, he had an idea as he bit his lips.

"you need to drink my white cream, you might have been infected and that white cream is like a medicine." he said without an ounce of guilt.

you stared at him weirdly once again as he nodded encouragely at you.

you nodded and bent down to face his lower abdomen, you licked his stomach and upper leg as you tried to kick every of his cum that you see.

you also looked at him as you licked your hand, you sucked one of your fingers into your mouth, pulling it out then the other one.

he groaned and almost cum again without contact, just the sight of you like that or even just with your hands on him can almost make him cum.

"it... tastes weird." you told him truthfully as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"what's that? you know that is very disrespectful?" he told you as your eyes went wide.

"i—i didn't know, i'm sorry..." you told him quickly as you shifted.

"you should be grateful for whatever i give you, 'ight?" he held your chin as he studied every inch of your face.

"y—yes." you nodded slowly, completely submitting to him, he smiled at that.

daryl patted your head as he lifted you into his lap, you shifted on top of him comfortably as you looked at his eyes.

he groaned when his tip came in contact with your clothed cunt.

"you feel good, baby?" he asked when you grind onto him for unknown reasons to you.

you nodded as he held your hips to stop you from moving any further.

you felt bliss when his tip was just touching your cunt, you have to feel more.

you want to feel more of him, you want to feel good and you also want him to feel good.

"use your words, sweetheart." he let out a low groan as his grip tightens on your hip.

you whimpered as you tried to form a proper sentence without stuttering or stumbling with your words.

"y—yes, mr. dixon." you nodded as you tried to fight his grip by moving to grind onto him.

"no, baby..." he told you, he scolded you as if you're a little girl who needs a punishment.

"you can't call me, mr... if you want me to make you feel good." he slowly talked to you, like talking to a little girl.

you nodded, "what should i call you? what will i call you?" you asked him as you try to grind onto him.

"daryl..." he teased you, moaning slightly as he said his own name.

you blushed as you took in his name, "daryl." you tried and looked at his eyes.

"it would be weird, da... daddy would be mad if he knew i called an older person by their name, he told me to always be respectful..." you told him what hershel taught you.

"well, your daddy doesn't have to know." he told you as he caressed your hips by his thumb.

"i... can't keep secrets." you told him, looking up at him. he was a lot taller than you even when he was seated with you on his lap.

"well, you have to... or else your daddy and i will be mad at you, do you want that?" he asked as he tapped his thumb onto your hips.

"no... i don't want someone mad at me." you shook your head as you looked down.

you blushed when you saw his erected cock, his tip was touching your clothed cunt.

your dress has lifted a bit when he sat you on his lap, the dress was in your hips, showing your legs and underwear.

"then let's keep this a secret, 'ight?" he leaned closer, pressing his tip into you harder.

you whimpered and nodded your head, he softened his grip on your hips as you stayed in place.

"a-are we going to do sex?" you asked him as you placed your hands on his chest. you played with his chest as you looked back and up at him.

"no, baby. we're going to make love." daryl told you, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"but we don't love each other." you told him sheepishly as you looked back at his chest. you admired his tattoos in awe as you traced them softly.

"i love you, and you will love me back after this." he told you firmly as he caressed your hair.

"o—kay..." you said, believing him. your daddy told you to always open your heart.

he leaned in and placed his lips onto yours, you blushed as you didn't know what to do.

you closed your eyes as he kissed you, he placed his grip onto your waist.

he kissed you softly as he bit your lip, you whimpered in pain as he took it as an opportunity to enter his tongue in.

you unconsciously put your arms around his neck as you started to follow his movements.

you tried to kiss him back as you moaned when he sucked on your lower lip.

you were almost embarrassed for the sounds you were making as he kissed you.

you grind your hips onto him unconsciously as you kissed, he sucked on your tongue and lower lip every now and then.

he let you grind your hips into him as you whimpered, you felt good and you want more.

"i-i'm sorry, daryl... but, i want more." you started after you pulled away from him, you tried to also catch your breath.

you were sorry because he just told you earlier how disrespectful it is to not appreciate what you were given.

he smirked and caressed your waist and hair, "you do? what do you want?"

"i feel good, but i want to feel more good..." you told him as you pouted and looked into his eyes.

"do you want daryl in your princess part?" he told you as you nodded, you didn't know what princess part is but you just nodded.

"do you know what that is?" he asked you, you shook your head shyly.

he let out a low chuckled as he let go of your hair he let his hands wander between your thighs as you whimpered.

he caressed it, "this is your princess part, baby." he told you, you didn't say anything as you whimpered, trying to grind onto his hand.

"that's my vagina..." you told him as you so desperately tried grinding onto him.

"no, it's princess part for you, 'right?" he said and slapped your princess part.

you whimpered and nodded, "it's my princess part." you told him as he grinned.

"how bad do you want it, sweetheart?" he asked as he slowly took off your panties.

"so... bad." you whined as you got off his lap and took off your own panties.

you got back on his lap, sitting directly on his cock as you moaned softly.

he teased your entrance as he slid his cock up and down your slit.

"you ready?" he asked and you nodded slowly, you were nervous, it was your first time.

you can't think about anything else, you didn't care if your daddy will get angry if he found out.

you just want daryl, you want to feel good and make love with him.

"i-i'll get pregnant..." you told him worriedly as you placed your hands on his shoulder.

he didn't respond and you gulped, he turned your positions so he was on top of you.

"so wet already?" he tapped his tip into your slit as he teased you.

you nodded, you can feel the wetness on your leg dripping down earlier.

it wasn't the first time you felt like that... you felt it whenever you catch maggie watching pornographic movies.

you felt guilty and confused why you got wet when you also watched the movie secretly.

you immediately went into your room that night and just slept it off.

daryl adjusted his cock into your entrance as he slowly slid in, you gasped in pain as you gripped onto his shoulders.

"daryl... i-i can't, it hurts." you cried as a tear slid down your face.

"it's okay, baby... it's just for a minute or so, everyone experiences this on their first time, it's normal." he told you, wiping your tears.

you nodded and sniffled, it was the truth, you heard your female classmates talking about their first time hurting.

but what isn't normal is the size of daryl's cock, it was beyond the average size.

it added to the pain you were feeling, you felt stretched out even if it was just his tip in you.

you closed your eyes in pain when he pushed a part of him in again. you took deep breaths and tried to calm your self.

"it still hurts..." you told him softly, opening your eyes and looking at him.

he felt a tug at his heart when you looked at him and when he looked at your eyes.

daryl wiped your tears again as he shush you. "it's okay, it'll hurt even more when i pull out."

you pouted but nodded, you wanted this too so you just have to suck it up.

he pushed another part of him in and you just whispered to yourself.

"why are you so big... i—is that normal?" you asked him, glaring at the ceiling.

he just chuckled, he whispered something incoherently to you before pushing the rest of his length in.

"dar—" you shouted in pain but he put his hand onto your mouth, he wiped your tears.

"it's okay..." he slowly told you as he pulled out just to go back in.

you can feel the sudden shift of emotions, you moaned in pleasure and pain the fifth time he slammed into you.

"feels good?" he asked you as he pounded into you, gently then roughly.

"daryl..." you moaned loudly as he pumped in and out, you whimpered.

"stay quiet, your daddy will hear ye'." he whispered to your ear.

you bit down on your lip to stop your loud moans, that even porn models would be jealous of.

daryl loved your moans but it was what would get the both of you caught.

he looked down where both of you meet, your cunt was better than he dreamt of.

your cunt was hugging his cock so tight that his imagination would be so ashamed.

"daryl..." you moaned lowly as he continued his pace, you kissed him as he roughly pumped into you.

"this princess part is mine, got it?" he asked as he slowed his pace.

"daryl— faster!" you bit your lip as you begged him to pick up his pace again.

"got it?" he asked and you nodded, "words, sweetheart." he whispered into your ear.

"yes... it's yours! please— daryl..." you moaned softly as he fastened his pace again.

he can feel you clench around him and he started slowing down just to go faster.

"i-i feel something weird on my tummy... daryl!" you moaned as you squirmed.

"let it out, baby... cum on my cock." he told you as you both can only hear the sound of sound slapping against each other.

you did as he told and let it out, whatever you were feeling on your stomach..

you came as daryl continued pounding onto your cunt relentlessly.

"i would make love to you from day to night if it wasn't your first time, baby..." he whispered.

you were feeling so sensitive that every time he came in contact with your princess part, you messily moaned.

"i-i feel it again..." you said quickly, it hasn't even been a minute since your last release.

daryl was so quick and rough that you came once again, you whimpered as daryl groaned and growled into your ears.

"i'm coming, baby." he muttered under his breath, "i'm cumming inside you."

"i-i'll get pregnant—" you tried to say but was interrupted by your own moan.

you tried protesting but he whispered soft things to your ear.

"i'll take care of you both..." he assured you as he fastened his pace.

"i'll keep stuffing my babies into you so you can never be taken away from me..." he told you.

you nodded, it was a promising life. it was your dream to have your own family someday.

you didn't know if your daddy would be happy with having a grandchild already.

"i'll show the boys interested to you that you're mine and you're carrying my baby..." he moaned.

"y-yes! okay..." you nodded as he thrust into you, you felt attracted to him and you thought it was enough to start a family of your own with him.

you didn't know again what your daddy would feel if you had a family of your own before your older sister, maggie.

"fuck... 'm goin' to cum inside ye'." he told you and his thrust turn sloppy as you can feel warm liquid gush into you.

you whimpered softly as he pulled out his cock. he was still hard even if you were already done.

you can feel your own cum mixed with daryl's cum trickle out of you slowly.

you tried to catch your breath as you pulled down your dress.

"i love ye'..." daryl whispered to you as he stuffed his cum back into you.

you didn't respond and closed your eyes, laying your head on the soft pillow.

you can feel a bit of guilt and regret that you let him cum inside you.

you started to doubt if it was a good idea to let him cum inside you.

you weren't even sure if you were ready to start a family as sure as you were earlier.

"i—i... don't think i want a child at this time..." you told him innocently and softly.

you can't imagine raising a child during an apocalypse where every breath you make is a risk.

"you can't do anything about it... i already came inside you, you're going to carry our child, hm?" he hugged you as he caressed your hair.

you didn't know what to do.

[mssalo]

safety - Part: IV

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of war and combat-related trauma, Emotional manipulation, Power dynamics, Noncon/dubcon elements, Unstable mental state, Reader feeling conflicted, Explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, oral (both giving and receiving), rough sex, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, Dom/sub dynamics, Joel’s possessiveness, Breeding kink, refusal to pull out, Overstimulation. Joel shall get therapy soon.

11k, Smut.

Enjoy!

Part I Part II Part III Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of his house, the engine cutting out abruptly. His grip on the steering wheel remained tight, knuckles white with tension.

His eyes scanned the perimeter, darting from the treeline to the empty yard, searching for any sign of danger.

They were still out there.

They had to be. He’d seen them—felt them lurking, waiting.

“They’re here for you,” he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky.

His mind raced, replaying every shadow, every phantom figure he’d seen darting between the trees back at camp. The thought made his chest tighten, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t let them take you.

Not now. Not ever.

“Joel,” your soft voice broke through the fog, but it didn’t ground him like it normally would.

He turned to you, eyes wide and wild, still scanning the darkness around them. He was sure they were close.

Too close.

“We need to get inside,” he rasped, gripping your arm a little too tightly. “They’re still out there.”

Without waiting for your reply, he stepped out of the truck and moved to your side, yanking the door open and pulling you out with a desperate grip.

His hand never left your arm as he ushered you up the steps and into the house, his eyes still flicking over his shoulder, double-checking that you're aren't being followed.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut and bolted it, his chest heaving as he stood there, back pressed against the door like it was the only thing holding him upright.

“Joel…” you began, your voice gentle, as if speaking too loudly might set him off. “There’s no one out there.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes still wide and searching, scanning the dark corners of the room, still expecting the worst.

His breath came out in heavy, uneven bursts, his body still coiled tight with fear.

“I’m okay,” you said again, this time placing your hand gently on his chest, trying to pull him back to you.

“You saved me, Joel. You got me out. I’m safe now.”

But he couldn’t hear you. His mind was still trapped in the nightmare, the vivid images of shadows lurking, of something coming for you.

It was like he was back in the thick of it—in the chaos, where he couldn’t control anything.

“They’ll come back,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “They always come back.”

You shook your head, moving closer to him, your hand still pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath.

“No one’s coming for me, Joel. It’s just us. We’re safe now.”

He turned to you, finally meeting your eyes, but his face was still tight with panic. “You don’t know that,” he said, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand… what’s out there.”

His grip on your arm tightened again, his fear morphing into something darker, something possessive.

He pulled you closer, his hand slipping to the small of your back, holding you against him as if the proximity alone could keep you safe.

“I’m not letting them take you,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

Your heart ached at the desperation in his voice, at the raw terror he was fighting to keep at bay. He wasn’t just afraid for you—he was afraid of failing you, of losing you to something he couldn’t stop.

His trauma had wrapped itself around him, choking him, blinding him to the fact that you were alone. That there was no danger but the one inside his mind.

“I’m okay,” you repeated softly, your arms slowly wrapping around him in return. “You did it, Joel. You saved me. We’re safe.”

He was trembling now, his body pressed against yours in a way that felt more desperate than protective. He buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, like he was trying to hold back a flood of emotion.

He tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer, as if he needed to feel every inch of your body against his to believe that you were still there, that you were real. “I wasn’t fast enough… last time.”

You stroked the back of his neck gently, your own heart pounding, trying to steady him, to bring him back to you. “You were fast enough this time. You got me out. You saved me.”

Joel’s breathing was uneven as he held you close, his face buried against the crook of your neck.

The scent of you—soft and sweet—seeped into his senses, grounding him in a way that nothing else had in years.

His chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, but the panic slowly started to ebb, replaced by something darker, something far more possessive. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent fill his lungs, chasing away the chaos in his mind.

You murmured softly, your voice a gentle lull in the storm. “You got me out. You saved me.”

Your words washed over him like a balm, but they weren’t enough. Not this time. He needed more than words. He needed to feel you—to hold onto something real, something tangible that would keep him from slipping back into the dark.

His lips brushed against your neck, a desperate, aching need driving him. "I need to feel something real."

You stiffened slightly in his arms, your breath catching as his mouth moved along your skin, soft at first but growing more insistent. Your heart pounded, torn between fear and something you couldn't quite place.

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips continued to travel down your neck, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

He pressed harder, kissing your neck with a hunger that bordered on desperation. His teeth grazed your skin, and a shiver ran through you, a strange mix of fear and guilt knotting in your stomach.

"Joel…" you whispered, your voice trembling. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure how to stop him without setting him off again.

But he didn’t stop.

His hands roamed over your back, gripping you tighter, as if he was terrified you would slip away.

"I need this," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I need you."

Your pulse quickened, the tension between you thick and suffocating.

You should pull away, you knew that.

Something about this didn’t feel right. But you didn’t move. You stayed there, your breath shaky as his lips continued to trace over your neck, his hands pressing you closer still.

You felt bad for wanting to pull away. He was hurting, and you could feel it in the way he clung to you. He needed something from you—something real to hold onto. But the weight of his desire was overwhelming, pressing down on you, making your heart race with something that wasn’t entirely fear… but wasn’t entirely comfort, either.

“Joel, I—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he silenced you with a soft growl, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice dark, heavy with emotion. "Don't say anything. Just… let me feel you."

His breath was hot against your skin, and you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted, a shiver running down your spine. Part of you was scared—scared of how far this might go, scared of how much control he was losing. But part of you felt something else.

Something that made you stay rooted to the spot, letting him take what he needed, even though you weren’t sure you should.

And Joel… Joel wasn’t letting go. He needed you more than ever now, and that desperate, consuming need was spiraling out of control.

A shiver ran through you, and you couldn’t help the way your body tensed under his hold. You had liked him before—all those glances, those quiet moments between you in the store. But this?

This was different. This wasn’t the Joel you’d seen before. He was someone else now, lost in whatever darkness had taken over.

"Joel," you whispered, trying to ground him, trying to bring him back. "… I’m okay."

But as the words left your mouth, you knew he wasn’t fully hearing you. Maybe this was what he needed to calm down, to feel like he was back in control.

Joel held you tight, his mind a tangled mess of emotions. You were speaking softly, trying to soothe him, telling him that you were okay, that he’d saved you. But the words barely made it through the fog in his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed you—that somehow, the danger wasn’t over yet.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered against your skin, his voice raw and broken. “You don’t understand how close I came to losing you. How close they were.”

You were the only thing that kept the demons at bay, and he needed you to stay. Needed you to hold onto him, to tell him he wasn’t losing his grip.

“Joel,” you whispered again, your voice trembling. “I’m okay. You don’t have to—”

But his grip only tightened, his breath coming out in heavy, ragged bursts. “Just let me touch you,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

He wasn’t going to stop.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want him to.

His hands roamed your back, sliding up under your shirt, his touch possessive, desperate. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, his breath hot and uneven as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“You’re mine to protect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Mine to keep safe.”

Your mind raced, torn between the fear of his intensity and the way your body responded to his touch.

You knew he wasn’t himself, that the trauma was pulling him under, but the heat of his body, the roughness of his hands, made it hard to think.

“I couldn’t save them,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his hands roamed over your body. “But I’ll save you. I swear it.”

He needed this—needed you—like you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

His grip was firm, almost desperate, as though he was afraid that if he let you go, you would vanish into the dark corners of his mind, swallowed by the dangers he imagined lurking just out of sight.

Then you tilted your chin up, your lips brushing lightly against his, and that soft contact undid him.

The second he kissed you, he felt the world steady beneath his feet. Your lips were soft, pliant, and the warmth of your mouth was a balm to the cold storm that raged inside him.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring everything into the kiss—the fear, the hunger, the overwhelming need to protect you, to claim you, to keep you close. His hands slid up, cradling your face gently as though you might slip away if he didn’t hold you just right.

The softness of your skin under his fingertips made him feel more human, more in control. His thumb brushed over the curve of your jaw, savoring how delicate you felt against his roughness.

You tasted like something familiar, something he didn’t realize he’d craved until now, and each press of your lips seemed to bring him closer to you, tethering him to something real, something that wasn’t his own spiraling thoughts.

He kissed you again, deeper, more insistent, needing to feel your softness against him, needing to lose himself in the comfort you provided. His mind raced, caught between the desire to protect and the hunger to possess, but as your lips moved with his, it all blurred together.

Protect. Keep. Claim. It didn’t matter.

You were soft, pliant, and here. You were real. And that, more than anything, made him feel like he could breathe again.

His breath grew ragged as his hands continued their journey over your body, each soft curve beneath his palms pulling him deeper into his need for you. You were everything he craved.

His lips pressed harder against yours, his mind clouded by the hunger building inside him.

He groaned softly as your body shifted against him, your hips brushing his, and he felt his cock throb, hard and insistent, pressed against you. The sensation sent a rush of heat through him, overwhelming the last of his restraint.

His grip on you tightened slightly, pulling you even closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you.

His hand slipped to the small of your back, pressing you against his hard cock growing between you.

His hands trembled slightly as he began to undo the buttons of your shirt, his breath uneven as his lips hovered close to yours. Joel’s fingers were rough against the soft fabric, but every movement was slow, deliberate.

Each button he undid revealed more of your skin, more of the warmth that anchored him. His hands moved to your shoulders, slipping the fabric of your shirt down your arms, exposing more of you to him.

His eyes darkened with hunger, but also with a fear that hadn’t quite faded.

“I need to see you,” he murmured, his voice thick, hoarse.

His lips found your collarbone, kissing the bare skin as his hands moved to the waistband of your jeans.

You exhaled softly, your hand moving to his chest as if to steady him, trying to reach him through the haze of his obsession.

His fingers fumbled with the button of your jeans, his need overwhelming his coordination, but you didn’t stop him.

He couldn’t stop himself.

His cock throbbed as he worked the fabric down your hips, revealing more of your softness, more of the body he needed to feel, to protect, to claim.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice almost a growl as he pulled you closer, pressing your bare skin against him.

Joel’s lips found yours again, demanding, needy, while his hands roamed your body. His desire remained, cock throbbing with each touch, a reminder of how much he needed you—how much he needed to make sure you were his.

As Joel stepped back just enough to take you in, his breath caught in his throat.

You stood before him in nothing but your underwear, and it was like you’d stepped out of one of his dreams, a vision so perfect it almost didn’t seem real.

Your body—every curve, every soft line—drew his eyes with an almost painful intensity. Your breasts, full and round, strained against the lace of your bra, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring, his mouth dry at the sight.

The way your waist dipped beneath the fabric only accentuated the fullness of your hips, your ass curved and firm, begging to be touched. You were the embodiment of everything he’d ever desired, every fantasy he’d ever had, standing there, soft and vulnerable, but so utterly tempting it made his chest tighten with need.

You were both angelic and sensual, an impossible combination of sweet and sinful. Everything about you pulled at him—your softness, your curves, the way you seemed to fit so perfectly against him.

And as he looked at you, standing there in your delicate underwear, all he could think was how much he wanted you, needed you.

His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out any remaining slivers of rational thought. You were right there—so soft, so perfect, standing before him like you were made just for him.

And for the first time in so long, he felt the rush of control, the heady sense of finally being able to hold something real, something that wouldn’t slip away or explode in chaos like everything else in his life.

In the war, everything had been chaos, spiraling out of control no matter how much he fought it.

The blood, the noise, the way every second could change in an instant.But this moment, with you in front of him, was something he could hold onto, something he could control.

Without a word, his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Your soft gasp against his neck sent a shockwave through his body as he held you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

The feel of you, warm and pliant against him, made the tension in his chest ease just enough to remind him how much he craved this—how much he needed this.

With you in his arms, he carried you toward the bedroom, his steps steady but filled with urgency.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your soft breaths hot against his ear, and every sound you made, every movement, only drove him closer to the edge.

The door to the bedroom came too slowly, his body buzzing with a need so intense he could barely think.

No one else. No chaos, no uncertainty—just you.

With a gentle but insistent movement, he laid you down on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You looked up at him, soft and breathless, and he felt the rush of power, of control, surge through him. Joel’s breath caught as he hovered over you, his hands roaming your body with reverence, as if he couldn’t believe you were really there beneath him, all softness and warmth.

He kissed your shoulder first, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger on your skin before trailing down to the curve of your collarbone. The taste of you, the way your body reacted to each kiss, was intoxicating.

“So damn pretty,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. His breath was hot against your skin, and you felt every word like a promise.

He pressed his lips to your neck, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his mouth, the heat rising between you. “You have no idea, do you? What you do to me…”

He kissed you again, lower this time, letting his mouth explore the hollow of your throat, his hands tracing the curves of your hips. You let out a soft gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets as you arched slightly under his touch.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, his voice a little more hoarse. “I wanna hear you. Let me hear every damn sound you make.”

Your reaction only made him crave more, made him want to pull you further into this, to hear every gasp, every moan.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing lower, skimming the swell of your breasts, his hands sliding up your sides, feeling every inch of you. “Every part of you, just… perfect.”

You blushed deeply, the color rising in your cheeks, and Joel felt his chest tighten at the sight. That blush—it reminded him of the first time he saw you, when you’d looked at him with those big eyes, your cheeks flushing the same way. You’d been nervous then, shy and unsure. But now? Now, you were his, and that blush only made him want you more.

He loved how the pink in your cheeks spread down your neck, how you couldn’t hide your reactions from him. You turned your head slightly, trying to hide the embarrassment that came with his compliments, but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growled softly, his fingers tipping your chin back toward him, forcing you to look at him. “I wanna see every damn reaction.”

He kissed your lips gently, then moved back to your skin, his breath heavy as he pressed his mouth to your throat. “So beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. To have you. All of you.”

His mouth continued its slow exploration, pressing kisses to your hips, your thighs, every part of you that he could reach. Your body responded to every touch, every kiss, your breath coming quicker, your fingers tightening in the sheets as you bit your lip.

“I can feel how much you want this,” he whispered, his voice dark and full of intent. “Don’t hold back. I want it all, I need it all.”

You let out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttering closed, and he couldn’t help but grin at your reaction.

“That’s it, baby… let go. Let me take care of you.”

His hand slid back up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin, that familiar blush that he loved so much.

Your breath hitched as Joel’s lips continued their slow journey down your body, each kiss more deliberate than the last. Your mind was spinning, and you knew you had to say something, even though your body responded instinctively to every touch, every kiss.

“Joel… maybe we should stop,” you murmured, your voice soft and uncertain, though your hands stayed tangled in his hair.

You bit your lip, trying to find the words as his kisses trailed lower, along your stomach, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’ve just… you’ve been stuck in an episode.”

Joel paused for a moment, his lips resting against your skin just above the waistband of your panties. His hands gripped your thighs gently, but firmly, holding you in place. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, dark with desire, and the way he looked at you sent a wave of heat rushing through you.

“I ain’t stuck,” he said softly, his voice husky and full of need. “This ain’t an episode. I know exactly what I’m doin’.”

His lips pressed another kiss, lower now, right at the edge of your underwear, his fingers tracing the fabric, teasing you. “And I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this for too long to stop now.”

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as your hips instinctively shifted toward him, despite the doubt swirling in your mind. “Joel…”

But he was already moving, his lips brushing softly over your clothed pussy, the sensation both maddening and electrifying.

“I can see how much you want this too,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy as he pressed another kiss. “Don’t try to hide it.”

His breath was hot against you, and you could feel the gentle pressure as he kissed you through the thin fabric of your panties, a slow, deliberate motion that made you gasp.

“Shhh,” he soothed, his voice a low, possessive rumble as he pressed his mouth to you again, lingering a little longer this time. “You don’t need to say anything. Just let me make you feel good.”

“I need this… I need you.” His tongue flicked out, barely a hint, tracing the edge of you through the lace, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you arch slightly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your hands tightening in the sheets now as you tried to fight the pull of his touch. “That’s it, let me hear you.”

“Joel… maybe—” you started again, but your words trailed off as he kissed you again, more firmly this time, his tongue pressing slowly against the damp fabric, teasing you, tasting you.

His grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he whispered against you, his voice dark with need. “Not when you taste this good. Not when I’ve been waitin’ this long.”

His tongue dragged over you again, slow and purposeful, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he tasted you.

“Been wantin’ this for so long… you have no idea.”

Every kiss, every lick made you forget the hesitation, made you want more. The way his mouth moved against you, the way he talked, his words low and rough with hunger, made your mind clouded with need.

“You’re all I need,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, his tongue flicking out again as he licked you through the panties, savoring the taste of you. “Let me take care of you. Just you and me, baby.”

Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as Joel continued his slow, deliberate attention on your body. Every kiss, every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure rolling through you, making you tremble beneath his touch.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans that kept slipping out, but the way he worked his mouth against your panties, teasing you relentlessly, made it impossible to stay quiet.

“Joel…” you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in the sheets, your body arching toward him as if you couldn’t stop yourself. “Oh god…”

Your hips bucked slightly as he applied more pressure, his mouth hot and persistent, licking you slowly through the lace, savoring every reaction you gave him.

The fabric was soaked now, your body betraying your desire, and you whimpered, the sound low and breathy, unable to stop the way you responded to him.

Then, suddenly, Joel pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering right over your heat.

For a moment, you thought he was going to stop, your body left aching for more, but instead, you felt him press his face against you, inhaling deeply, groaning as he took in your scent.

The sound he made was primal, raw, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck,” he growled against you, his voice thick with need and satisfaction. “Just like I remember.”

Your mind was still clouded by the intense pleasure, your breath coming in short bursts when his words broke through.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze, and managed a weak, breathless, “Huh?”

Joel’s lips curled into a dark grin as he glanced up at you, his eyes filled with hunger and intent.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a soft moan as he pressed his face into you again, groaning against you as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your body responded instinctively, your legs trembling, your hips pushing up toward him as your mind spun with a mix of pleasure and confusion.

“Joel…” you whimpered again, your voice barely a whisper, your body betraying you as it gave in completely to the sensations he was pulling from you.

Joel’s fingers moved with a slow, deliberate pace as he hooked them into the sides of your panties, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath caught, your body trembling beneath him, anticipation and uncertainty warring in your gaze.

But you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t.

Joel's breath grew heavier as his fingers slowly slid beneath the waistband of your panties, his touch deliberate, savoring every moment. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips as he tugged them down, his eyes dark and hungry as he peeled the fabric away from your skin, inch by inch.

His lips followed the motion, kissing your thighs as he uncovered you, groaning deep in his throat when the lace finally slipped past your knees.

He paused for a moment, taking you in, his eyes raking over you - seeing you for the first time.

His breath was shaky, his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, holding you open for him. A deep, guttural sound escaped him, full of desire and need.

"Goddamn," he growled, his voice thick with hunger. "Look at you. So fuckin' beautiful. So perfect."

His eyes were glued to you, dark and primal, like he couldn’t get enough.

He leaned down, his breath warm against you as he inhaled deeply, groaning with satisfaction, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Fuckin’ heaven,” he muttered, the sound low and filled with filthy need. “You’re mine now, and I’m never lettin’ go.”

Then he dove in, his mouth pressing firmly against you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made you gasp out loud, your hips bucking toward him instinctively.

He groaned against you, the sound muffled by the way his tongue worked, feasting on you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

He didn’t hold back, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face deeper, his tongue circling and tasting you with relentless hunger.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned between breaths, his voice vibrating through your core. “Been waitin’ for this, darlin’, waitin’ to taste every inch of you.”

Your moans filled the room as his tongue worked you over, his lips sucking and licking with desperate need. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your hands gripping his hair as you arched against him, lost in the sensation of his mouth on you.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, devouring you with an intensity that made your toes curl, every filthy word he muttered against you sending you spiraling higher.

"You're mine," he rasped, his voice barely audible between licks, but the possessive tone was clear. "Only mine."

“Please…,” you whimpered, barely able to form the words between your gasps, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Joel’s hunger for you only seemed to grow the longer he tasted you, his need for you overwhelming any shred of restraint he had left.

Joel growled low in his throat as he pulled back for a moment, his breath ragged. He took a long look at you, lips glistening with your wetness, his eyes filled with a raw hunger that bordered on madness.

He couldn’t tear himself away from the sight of you, couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. You were too perfect, too soft, too sweet for him to ever get enough.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, his drawl thicker now, rough with need. His fingers slid between your soft pussy lips, spreading you open even wider. “Look at this pretty pussy… so fuckin’ perfect. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“So pretty, darlin’. Tastes so fuckin’ sweet.”

He lowered his head again, his mouth hovering just above you before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you slowly.

His groan was deep, guttural, vibrating through you as he buried his face between your legs once more.

“You taste so damn good,” he muttered between licks, his breath hot against your slick skin. “Sweetest thing I ever had.”

His lips found your clit, and he teased it with his tongue, swirling slow and deliberate, savoring your reactions. Then, without warning, he gently bit down, just enough to make you jolt.

You gasped loudly, your back arching, but the sharp sensation sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, mixing with the heat already burning between your legs.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t ya?” he growled, his voice rougher now, his breath heavy as he pulled your hips closer, holding you tightly against his mouth. “This pussy is mine… ain’t nobody ever gonna have you like this. I’ll make sure of it.”

He groaned again, licking you harder now, his tongue working over you with a maddening precision.

Every taste of you drove him wilder, his obsession growing as he lost himself completely in you. He licked you slowly, almost reverently, savoring every second before spitting on you again, watching it glisten on your wet folds.

“So wet, so ready. This pussy’s made for me. Tastes so good, darlin’, I can’t fuckin’ stop.” He leaned in again, his tongue dragging over you in long, slow strokes before diving deeper, licking you with a desperate hunger.

His mouth was relentless, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he feasted on you like a man starved. Joel groaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, and your moans filled the room as you writhed beneath him.

“You taste like heaven,” he muttered between kisses, dripping with lust. He flicked his tongue over your clit again, biting it gently, making you gasp and tremble under his touch. “Ain’t never tasted anything this good.”

His eyes were dark, fixed on the place where his mouth had been, like he couldn’t get enough. He spread your legs wider, admiring you, completely obsessed with every inch of your body laid out before him.

“Look at this pretty cunt,” he growled, his voice thick with that southern twang, filled with raw desire. “Goddamn, darlin’, you’re perfect down here. Prettiest little pussy I ever laid eyes on.”

He spat on your clit with a roughness that made you gasp, the slick wetness mixing with what was already there. His fingers followed, spreading the spit over your folds, rubbing it with slow, deliberate strokes.

Every movement was slow and teasing, designed to drive you insane, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers sliding over you, feeling how wet you were. “This pretty little clit, all swollen for me… You like it when I bite it, don’t ya? When I suck on this sweet clit?”

He groaned, the sound vibrating against you as his lips found your clit again.

This time, he sucked on it hard, his teeth grazing it just enough to send jolts of pleasure and pain through you. “Mm, yeah,” he grunted against you, his voice rough with lust. “This cunt tastes so goddamn good, baby“

He flicked his tongue over your clit, then bit down gently, sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you.

Your hips bucked up toward his mouth, your body responding to the way his tongue moved against you with relentless precision.

“That’s right, baby,” he drawled, his accent dripping through every word. “Let me taste all of ya. I wanna hear those pretty little moans while I eat this sweet cunt.”

He spat on you again, his hand rubbing it into your folds, his fingers working you while his mouth stayed focused on your clit.

He licked you from the bottom up, then focused on your clit again, sucking it hard, biting just enough to make you moan louder, your body trembling under his touch.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, his breath hot against you as he looked up briefly, his eyes glazed with hunger. “Ain’t nothin’ in this world better than this pretty cunt.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, your voice shaking. “I’m close… I’m so close.”

At your words, he growled against you, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through you. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips wet and glistening as he flashed you a wicked grin.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasped, “Cum on my tongue, baby. I wanna taste all of it.”

Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit, sucking hard, his mouth working with a brutal rhythm.

His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh again and again, while his nose pressed against you, creating a delicious pressure that had your body trembling beneath him.

He could feel you tensing, your thighs shaking as your moans grew louder, more desperate.

“Come on, baby,” he growled, his voice muffled as he sucked harder, his lips locked around your clit. “Give it to me. Let me taste you.”

You cried out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

Your entire body shuddered, your hips grinding against his mouth as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you.

Joel didn’t let up for a second—his mouth stayed on you, sucking and licking, his tongue flicking over your clit even as you writhed beneath him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned against you, his voice dark and raw with hunger. “That’s it, darlin’. Cum for me. Goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

He kept going, his mouth relentless as he devoured you, sucking every last bit of your release, not giving you a moment to catch your breath.

His tongue was rough, greedy, lapping up everything you gave him. His fingers gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to his mouth as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Gonna eat this pussy all night,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive, his mouth still working your overstimulated clit. “Ain’t no one else gets to taste you like this. Just me.”

Your legs trembled violently as another wave of pleasure surged through you, and your moans turned into soft, breathless whimpers.

But Joel didn’t stop. He was lost in you, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, the way you tasted, the way you shook and gasped beneath his touch.

He licked you again, slow and deliberate this time, savoring you as he pressed his face even deeper between your legs, his nose rubbing your sensitive clit with every movement.

“Can’t get enough of this pretty little cunt,” he murmured against you, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger. “You taste like heaven, baby. Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation becoming too much, every nerve ending in your body still buzzing from the intensity of your orgasm.

You gasped, your fingers clutching at his hair, trying to pull him away as his mouth continued its relentless assault on your sensitive flesh.

“Joel, please,” you whimpered, your voice breathless and shaky. “I can’t… it’s too much.”

But he didn’t stop. His lips pressed against you again, his tongue still moving, though slower now, savoring every inch of you.

He growled softly, his hands tightening around your hips as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go, his grip possessive and firm.

“You’re safe,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and filled with an intense need. “I’ll keep you safe… forever.”

His words came out in a low rasp, his lips brushing against your overstimulated clit as he spoke. It wasn’t just about pleasure for him anymore—it was about control, about grounding himself in the only thing that made sense to him now.

You were his safety, the only thing that kept the chaos in his mind at bay.

Your body flinched at the continued stimulation, but there was something in his voice, in the way he spoke to you, that made you pause. And despite the intensity, despite how overwhelmed you felt, you softened, your fingers sliding from his hair to cup his face gently.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you looked down at him. “I’m safe. You’ve got me, Joel.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark but filled with something deeper—something vulnerable. His grip on you loosened just a little, and he leaned up, pressing his forehead to your thigh as he let out a shaky breath.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll never let anything happen to you. I can’t… not after everything.”

You nodded, your body still sensitive, still trembling beneath him, but you understood. You knew what he was fighting, what he was trying to hold onto.

Your hands slid through his hair, soothing him, and for a moment, the intensity between you softened into something more gentle, something more real.

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible. “I’m yours, Joel. You’re keeping me safe.”

And with that, the tension in his body seemed to ease, just a little, as he pressed one last kiss to your thigh before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

He let his hands move to the clasp of your bra, fingers fumbling just a little as he unhooked it, and with slow, deliberate care, he slid the straps down your shoulders. His eyes were dark, full of hunger again, as the fabric finally slipped away, revealing you fully to him.

“Gotta have every inch of you,” he rasped, his voice heavy with desire. “You’re too fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.”

His words slurring with the weight of his obsession as he dropped the bra to the floor.

Joel’s gaze locked onto your breasts, and a deep, guttural groan escaped him, his hands moving immediately to cup them, his rough, calloused fingers brushing over your soft skin like he was savoring every inch.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with lust. “Look at these…”

His grip tightened slightly, his hands kneading your flesh as if testing the weight, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, already hard from his touch. His gaze darkened as he stared, completely mesmerized by the sight of you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, dipping his head down, lips brushing softly at first over your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts. He lingered there, his breath warm, and just when you thought he might hold back, he latched onto you, mouth hot and eager, sucking hard, his tongue swirling over your sensitive nipple.

Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your chest toward him, a gasp slipping from your lips. The way his mouth worked on you, the wet, sucking sound mixed with his groans, sent a rush of heat through you.

His other hand moved to squeeze your other breast, fingers teasing and pinching at your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“You like that, don’t ya?” Joel growled, his voice rough and gravelly against your skin. He sucked noisily on your breast, pulling more moans from you as his teeth grazed your nipple. “These perfect fuckin’ tits… they’re mine. All mine.”

His mouth moved from one nipple to the other, just as eager, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your flushed skin. He sucked hard, tugging gently with his teeth before biting down enough to send a sharp, pleasurable pain radiating through you. Your body jerked beneath him, but the way his lips wrapped around you, the way he sucked and licked—made it impossible to want him to stop.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his words slurring slightly, his voice drunk with lust. “You taste so fuckin’ good. So soft… everything about you.”

His mouth didn’t leave your skin, trailing lower with a messy trail of kisses, but he stayed focused on your breasts, alternating between the two like he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re all I need,” he whispered between kisses, his voice almost desperate now. “After everything… all that shit. I just need you. Nothing else.”

Your moans grew louder, your body trembling under his relentless attention. Every flick of his tongue, every bite of his teeth sent your mind spinning, your skin burning with the intensity of his need.

Joel’s breath hitched, the sound rough and needy as his hands roamed over your body, almost frantic now as if he couldn’t touch enough of you at once. His fingers trailed down, brushing over the curve of your hips, gripping tightly.

“I’m going to explode,” he growled, his voice strained with raw desire. “Can’t wait any longer. I need you now.”

His hands were rough, urgent, as they skimmed down your sides, over your hips, feeling every curve of your body. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t slow down, and it was driving him mad.

“Pull down my pants,” he ordered, his voice a low rasp, thick with need. His eyes burned into yours, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down your spine. “Do it, baby. Now.”

Your hands shook as you reached for his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, but you could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath heavy as he waited, every second sending his body into a deeper need.

You slid his jeans down slowly, the anticipation thick between you. As his boxers followed, his cock sprang free—hard, throbbing, already dripping with precum, the tip flushed and leaking. It was thick, veins running along its length, the sheer size of him making your breath catch.

Joel stood above you, completely exposed, his chest heaving, his cock twitching with the intensity of his need.

“You’re gonna thank me,” he said, his voice dark, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger. “Thankful I saved you. Now show me.”

He took your hand, guiding it to his throbbing cock, his fingers curling around yours, urging you to touch him. As your hand wrapped around him, his breath hitched, his hips jerking slightly at the contact. The heat of him was overwhelming, his skin smooth but pulsing beneath your grip.

“Give it a kiss, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Show me how thankful you are. I saved you, didn’t I? You owe me that.”

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his, but the hunger in his gaze—his need—was too strong to resist. Slowly, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against the swollen tip of his cock. The taste of precum lingered on your tongue as a soft groan escaped Joel’s throat, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, his voice gravelly, dripping with lust. “That’s a good girl. Kiss it, baby. Show me how fuckin’ grateful you are.”

Your lips pressed soft kisses against him, working slowly along his length, and every touch made him groan deeper, his hips twitching as he craved more. The sight of you, your lips on him, drove him wild.

Joel’s grip tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with raw hunger as he gazed down at you.

“You’re thankful, aren’t you?” he rasped, his words rough and possessive. “I saved you… now make me feel it.”

Without hesitation, you let your tongue flick out, tracing the length of him, savoring the way his body reacted to every stroke, every touch. Joel’s head tipped back, his jaw clenched as a guttural groan escaped him.

“Fuck, yeah… that’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that, baby. Take your time.”

You worked him slowly, your tongue swirling over his length, feeling the heat of him pulsing beneath you. His body tensed, his grip in your hair tightening as he guided you, each movement pulling another growl from his chest.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble. “You know how to take care of me, don’t ya?”

His hips shifted, pushing slightly toward you as your mouth worked over him, your tongue teasing the underside of his cock, sending jolts of pleasure through him. The roughness of his words, the filthy way he talked, only made you want to take him deeper, to make him come undone.

“Fuck,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with need. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this… makin’ me lose my goddamn mind.”

Your lips moved lower, teasing his balls with soft kisses, and the second your tongue flicked over them, Joel’s body tensed, his breath catching in his throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the reaction immediate, his body trembling. “Goddamn, darlin’…”

You worked slowly, your tongue exploring, teasing him with soft, wet licks, savoring the way his cock twitched above you, the precum leaking steadily now. The sight of him—hard, throbbing, desperate—only fueled your desire to take him further.

Your mouth moved over his balls, sucking them gently, your tongue swirling around them, coating them with warm, slick spit. Joel could barely contain himself, his hips jerking slightly, his cock pulsing.

“you’re so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, his voice strained, thick with lust. “Look at you, takin’ care of me like this…”

The wet sounds of your mouth sent shivers down his spine as you sucked harder, teasing him with your tongue.

“You’re gonna make me lose it,” Joel groaned, his breath ragged, his hand threading through your hair again. “So fuckin’ perfect…”

As you moved your mouth back up to his cock, trailing kisses along the length of him, he nearly lost it. His cock throbbed harder now, aching for more. You took the tip into your mouth, sucking softly, your lips stretching around him as you slowly took him deeper.

“Fuck, yes,” Joel growled, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Just like that… fuckin’ perfect.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening in your hair as he guided you, his body trembling with need.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Takin’ me so perfectly… fuck, you feel so good.”

Every stroke of your mouth, every flick of your tongue over him, sent his body spiraling, the pleasure building inside him, ready to explode.

“God, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he groaned, his voice almost desperate now. “Fuck… you’re so good, baby.”

Just before he could come, he pulled you off him, his chest heaving, his body trembling with the intensity of his need.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you back onto the bed. His eyes were dark with hunger, and the second your body hit the mattress, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was desperate, teeth grazing against your lips, his breath heavy with need.

He hovered above you, his body tense, every movement deliberate, as if he was grounding himself in the feel of you. His lips broke from yours to trail down your jaw, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as he whispered against your skin.

“You’re safe… You’re here… You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw emotion, laced with an edge of desperation. “I’ve got you, baby. Not letting go.”

His body pressed into yours, his hard cock sliding between your slick folds, the heat of him teasing you with every slow rock of his hips. He groaned, deep and guttural, as he felt your wetness coat him, the sensation driving him to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck, his hips moving deliberately as he teased you, his length sliding against you, the head of his cock brushing your entrance but never fully entering.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his hips rocked slowly, teasing both of you.

“I need you… I need to fuckin’ feel you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with the strain of holding back. “You’re everything, baby. All I’ve got.”

He pressed the swollen head of his cock against your entrance, inching forward, the slow stretch making you both gasp. He pushed inside you, inch by inch, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep control, his body trembling with the effort.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his breath ragged as he filled you completely. “You’re mine, darlin’. All mine.”

Joel’s breath came out in heavy, uneven gasps as he moved over you, each slow thrust deliberate, his hips rocking into you with a controlled intensity. His eyes locked onto yours, watching your every reaction, your soft moans and gasps only fueling the fire inside him.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growled, his voice low, barely able to hold himself together. His hands slid up your sides, fingers grazing over your breasts, which bounced with every thrust. “So perfect… no one else gets this. No one but me.”

Your body responded to him instinctively, arching into him, matching his rhythm as the heat between you grew. His lips trailed down your neck, tasting your skin, sucking gently before biting down, just hard enough to make you gasp.

His hips began to pick up the pace, each thrust more forceful than the last, pushing deeper inside you. His eyes never left your body, watching the way your breasts bounced with every movement, the way your back arched, the way your fingers clutched at the sheets.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice deep, primal. "Look at you… takin’ me so good. This pussy was made for me."

His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them roughly as he drove into you harder, his fingers teasing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he groaned with pleasure.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he muttered, his voice slurred with lust, his breath hot against your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

His movements became more urgent, more desperate, each thrust harder than the last. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies colliding only driving him wilder.

His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you against him with every thrust, burying himself deeper inside you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he rasped, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. “This cunt… it’s mine. All mine.”

Your moans grew louder, each sound spilling from your lips driving him closer to the edge. His hips slammed into yours with brutal intensity, the force of his movements making your body tremble beneath him.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he growled, his voice rough, the filthy words dripping from his lips as he pounded into you. “You like when I fuck you like this… When I own every inch of you.”

His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them tightly as he spread your legs wider, giving him deeper access as he thrust harder, faster. His body was slick with sweat, his muscles straining as he gave you everything he had.

“Take it,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust, his eyes dark as he watched you. “Take every fuckin’ inch.”

Your body arched off the bed, your nails digging into his back as the pressure built inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Joel’s eyes never left yours, watching you come apart beneath him, his movements relentless as he drove you higher and higher.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he groaned, his voice barely audible between breaths. “Look at you, takin’ me so well. This fuckin’ body was made for me.”

His control was slipping, his thrusts becoming erratic, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He could feel you tightening around him, your body shaking as you approached the edge, and it only pushed him harder, faster.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a mix of filthy promises and raw need. “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

With a final, deep thrust, you shattered around him, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm tore through you. Your entire body trembled, your legs shaking as you came hard, clenching around him.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice raw and desperate. “I’m gonna cum… inside you.”

Your breath hitched, and through the haze of pleasure, you gasped out, “No… not inside, Joel.”

But his grip on your hips tightened, his pace only increasing as he leaned down, his mouth brushing your ear. His breath was ragged, filled with need, and his voice darkened with that raw, possessive tone that always drove you wild.

“Oh, I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled, his words thick with lust. “Gonna shoot it deep inside, baby. Feel it? Gonna pump you full of me.”

Your protest was swallowed by the intensity of his thrusts, his body moving with a relentless, animalistic rhythm as he chased his release. Every movement was deliberate, driven by the need to claim you fully, to push you past the edge where you had no control left.

“You’re mine,” he whispered harshly, his grip bruising as his hips slammed into yours with brutal force. “This pussy is mine to fill. I’ll fuckin’ shoot every drop deep inside and watch it drip out of you.”

The heat between you both was unbearable, and his cock throbbed inside you, your body wrapped around him perfectly. His breath came out in ragged bursts as he buried himself deep, holding you tight, no intention of pulling out.

His voice lowered, dark and dirty. “You’ll feel me leaking out of you for hours, baby… that’s what I do. I fuckin’ claim you from the inside out.”

And with a guttural groan, Joel lost control, his hips slamming into you one last time as he came hard, spilling into you with a force that left him trembling. His body shuddered against yours, the heat of his release filling you as his cock pulsed, shooting wave after wave of hot cum deep inside.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, grinding his hips against yours, making sure you felt every last drop. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect for me. I fill you up, make sure you feel me long after we’re done.”

He collapsed onto you, his breath still ragged, his body trembling as the last waves of pleasure washed over him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, holding you tight like he was never going to let you go.

“Every bit of you,” he murmured into your skin, his voice softer now, but still heavy with satisfaction. “You take all of me.”

· · ───

He didn't speak right away, but he slipped out of bed, disappearing briefly before returning with a warm towel. His movements were careful, almost methodical, as he gently cleaned you, parting your legs with slow, tender strokes.

You watched him, your heart heavy with the way he moved, so soft and deliberate, so different from the intense, possessive man from earlier. The shift unsettled you, though there was something undeniably intimate about the way he took care of you now, as if he was clinging to this moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, breaking the silence, his voice low and vulnerable, a sharp contrast to the growls and raw need he’d shown earlier.

He kissed your leg gently before setting the towel aside, pulling the covers up over both of you. "You okay?" His voice wavered, like he was afraid of your answer.

You nodded, but the weight of everything lingered between you. You like him, but the intensity of his need for you, the way he held onto control so fiercely, left you with a knot in your chest. The silence stretched on, and you knew you had to say it.

"I'm okay," you whispered, your voice soft, hesitant. But then the truth spilled out, delicate but firm. "But I… I'll need the morning-after pill. Tomorrow."

The air in the room shifted instantly. Joel froze, his hand still resting lightly on your hip, but his grip loosened. His eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them—disappointment, maybe even hurt.

His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, and though he nodded, the gesture felt slow, almost reluctant. "Yeah… whatever you need," he said quietly, his voice rougher now, carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before. “I’ll take care of it.”

He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your heart twisted. You could see it—the subtle shift in him, the way he was trying so hard to keep it together, to be the one who could protect you from everything. But his need for control, for certainty, left him lost.

“I’ll get you some water,” he muttered, almost distracted, as if he needed something to do. He slipped out of bed again, the sound of his footsteps faint as he moved to the kitchen. You could hear the quiet clinking of glass, the faucet running, but all you could think about was the tension in his voice.

When he returned, he handed you the water, waiting for you to take a sip before placing it on the nightstand. His hand rested on your back, rubbing slow circles, but there was something off in the way he touched you—his need to care for you had become almost frantic, as if he was trying to prove something, trying to fix something he couldn’t control.

"Do you need anything else?" His voice was soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for another request, something else he could take care of. “More water? Food? Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”

You shook your head gently, but guilt gnawed at you. You hadn’t meant to unsettle him, hadn’t wanted him to feel like he wasn’t enough. You could see it in his eyes—the storm of emotions he was barely holding back, his desperate need to be there for you in every way.

“I’m good, Joel,” you whispered, offering him a small smile, but the weight of it all hung between you, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Joel’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard, struggling to keep it together. His hand lingered on your hip, his breath uneven. "I just want you safe. I’ll make sure you have what you need."

The look in his eyes tugged at something deep inside you—a mix of guilt and tenderness. You hadn’t meant to make him feel like this, hadn’t wanted to push him further into the spiral you could see in his eyes.

You reached for him, your fingers brushing his cheek gently, and before he could say anything, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His breath hitched, his body stiff for a moment, but the tension in his shoulders began to ease under your touch.

“Come here,” you whispered softly against his lips, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “Lay down with me.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he didn’t know what to say. But then, with a quiet sigh, he slipped back into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as though he was afraid you might slip away.

His embrace was warm, comforting, but you could feel the vulnerability in the way he held you—the desperate need to protect you, to be everything for you, even when he was still fighting his own battles.

You kissed him again, softer this time, your lips lingering as you whispered, "I'm right here."

His breath came out in a shaky exhale, his arms tightening around you, holding you close as though it was the only way to ground himself. “I’ll always keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with emotion. “I promise.”

And though you knew there were things you couldn’t fix for him, though you couldn’t be the solution to all his pain, you let him hold you in that moment, let him believe that he could keep the chaos at bay.

Tomorrow, you’d have to face the hard conversations, the reality of what he needed. But tonight, you could be his anchor.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

whew....

Another chapter will come, comment if u want me to remind you!! (also just really love comments, they make me so motivated)

xoxo

[intrepidacious]

bring your hunger

summary: There is a Witcher in your house.

pairing: geralt of rivia x succubus!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), light dubcon due to demon magic, penetrative sex (p in v), some biting and choking 😌 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: somehow it's been over a year since i posted a full fic but one ao3 writer's curse later here we are. whole new fandom. i've also never written smut until this show rewired my brain so bon appétit (please be kind). my biggest love to @aphrogeneias and @brandycranby who both let me complain about this story for about three months, i adore you!!

masterlist | read on ao3

There is a Witcher in your house.

You smell him long before you lay your eyes on him, the stench of his magic permeating the forest, harsh and acrid. Somewhere in the woods nearby, something is burning.

For a moment, you hesitate, considering your options. A lesser creature would’ve turned on the spot and run, would’ve stolen a horse in the nearby town and gotten as far away as possible, and maybe you should be doing the same. Forsake your home and this region and try to forget them to save your neck.

But your instincts are never wrong, and right now they are drawing you closer, one cautious step in front of the other, until your door creaks open.

He’s sitting in your chair, turned to the side to have a clear view of the entrance. He is propped up against the dining table, his matted white hair sticking to his forehead. The air is heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. Whatever happened across him managed to get him good; he seems to have bandaged himself up, somehow, but the gashes in his chest look painful.

He stares at you, frown deepening on his face, but he stays very still. There is a dangerous look in his amber eyes, full of fire and fury, and for some reason, that doesn’t scare you. Not at all.

Gods, you’re hungry.

There’s a steady pulse of power coming from him, muted but incessant, like his body’s not ready to drop the fight quite yet. He doesn’t, however, reach for the weapons he’s carelessly dropped on your good carpet.

So instead of fleeing, you draw the door shut behind you and you tilt your head.

It’s stronger now, the smell of your own powers. You don’t think it holds as much sway over Witchers as it would do over mere mortals, but it’s still enough for him to white-knuckle the edge of the table.

"I know what you are," he grits.

The low timbre of his voice makes you grin.

"That makes us even, then." You get closer to him, gingerly stepping over his swords. "Are you going to do something about it?"

His nostrils flare a little, but apart from that his face stays unreadable. Only his eyes betray him, still trained on your lips. He can’t help himself.

"I don’t kill your kind," he says.

"How generous of you." You come to a halt between his legs, reaching out to tilt his chin towards you.

He lets you, and there’s the slightest hint of amusement hidden at the corner of his mouth. From up close, the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

"Let me show my appreciation," you say lowly.

His scent changes ever so slightly with the first small spike of his arousal. It sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your fingers trail down his throat, along his broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his back, leaning into him even more. His hands fall to your hips, almost involuntarily. Slowly, unhurriedly, you let your nose brush against his and he inhales with a shudder.

This is always your favourite part. The final moments before they give into their desire, your meal prepared and served up on a silver platter, ready to indulge in.

"Don’t," he says, barely a warning.

"Don’t what?" You can feel his breath against your smile.

"Don’t tease."

"No?" He’s got remarkable restraint, this Witcher; but you can hear his racing heart. "Alright then."

And between one moment and the next, you let your clothes disappear.

It’s a simple trick, one that everyone of your kind can do as easily as blinking, but it’s never failed you. His eyes turn even darker as he realizes what you’ve done, as you move back a little to let him take you in. You lick your lips as another waft of his arousal reaches your nose.

Delicious.

"Is that better?" you whisper, tipping your head to the side.

He doesn’t reply. He pulls you towards him sharply, and then his mouth crashes against yours, hard and sudden. One of his hands grabs your ass, hauling you into his lap while the other one cradles the nape of your neck.

It’s a brutal kiss, divinely ferocious. Your naked core brushes over the noticeable bulge in his pants and he groans. You move your hips back and forth, just enough friction to make his fingers curl, nails biting into your skin.

This, you think, this is just what you’ve been craving. This sense of presence, of awareness. Your heartbeats growing faster. Pulling, tasting, wanting. More.

You only break the kiss to undo his belt, and he chases after your lips, hazy, starving.

You can relate.

He is already rock hard when you pull him out of his pants, ready and leaking. He pushes into your touch, raw need taking over.

You let out an appreciative hum, positioning yourself in his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest. You want him to feel good, after all, no: you need him to.

You haven’t been sated in so long.

"Witcher," you chuckle breathlessly as his arms tighten around you, caging you against his body. "Aren’t you supposed to kill wicked, evil things like me?"

He growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the bite marks immediately; like he’s savouring your taste, too.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes are like molten embers.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you yank his head back to kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes when you sink down on him, and it’s a pity, really, because you could get your fill from that alone. It’s delectably salty and bitter.

Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he tilts his hips to allow you a better angle as you start moving.

"So good for me," you murmur.

He slaps your hand away when you try to slip it between your bodies, and then his own fingers find your clit, gently teasing at first, but quickly applying more pressure. You gasp, your walls clenching around his cock.

He lets out a breathless huff. "There, huh?"

"That’s it. Just like that."

It’s too much. Your breaths quicken as the air around you starts to hum and crackle with building energy. It’s making your head swim, each precise stroke to your clit bringing you closer to that edge you’re chasing.

His mouth still trails along your neck, nipping there. Your skin already feels sticky with sweat and magic as you’re hurled ever closer to the peak of your arousal.

Just as the tension in your core gets tight enough to snap, he stills completely. His cock is fully sheathed inside you, but he doesn’t move, his arms around you hard and unyielding, not even allowing a single roll of your hips. Something between a whine and a growl escapes your lips as your canines come down hard enough to draw blood.

The Witcher smiles at you hazily. "Do you want to come, little demon?"

You want to bite him. You want to suck out his energy until he’s nothing more than a sad, empty husk.

Your snarl only brings out a dark glint in his eyes, and his hand moves to your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. His grip tethers you in your denied pleasure.

"Ask nicely," he says lowly, brushing his lips against yours.

Wicked, evil man.

Underneath your skin, your powers are brimming with unease, not yet refilled, not yet repleted; he knows this. You know he knows, and yet you’re unwilling to give in. "Or what?"

His grin widens just a fracture as his chin juts out in unmatched arrogance. You could burn it off his face. You could dig your claws into the gashes in his chest and widen them even more, feast on his blood instead.

"I know you need it," he says. His cock twitches inside you. "Beg."

A shiver goes down your spine, hot and cold at the same time.

You don’t beg. Ever. You don’t yield control, not even for your meal, especially not to someone like him. But then he expertly applies pressure to your throat and your eyes roll back in your head, all thoughts lost to the thick haze of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, clenching around him again. "Please fuck me."

He groans, hips stuttering into yours involuntarily before he moves in earnest, keeping his hand on your throat. It’s almost agonisingly slow at first, one roll of his hips almost letting him slip out of your cunt completely before he pushes back in with one single, firm stroke.

Your startled cry of pleasure gets stifled by his mouth, coaxing, biting, until your claws dig into the thick muscles on his shoulders. The arm around your back guides your movement, pressing you even closer to his body than before as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

You’re so close. You can already taste the precipice, black stars dancing along the edge of your vision.

Another moan rips out of you when you come apart for air, mouths open. "That’s it," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "Come for me."

His voice cracks with rapture, and it’s that more than the feeling of his own climax that sends you over the edge.

This part of your nature never gets old: As the orgasm rushes through you, the pent-up energy surrounding you snaps like lightning, funnelling into your body like an invisible current until you shudder blissfully with your appetite sustained. Your magic crackles around you, dancing on your burning skin like sparks of fire.

You hum appreciatively, your eyes still closed as you take a moment to collect yourself. This day has taken a pleasantly surprising turn, after all. It’s been too long since you’ve felt so thoroughly sated.

However, when you try to move out of his lap, the Witcher’s grip on you tightens decisively.

"Is that it?"

Your eyes fly open.

He is breathing heavily, but despite his loss of blood and the energy you’ve pulled from him, there’s not a trace of exhaustion to be found. He still has that same dangerous twinkle in his gaze. Fire and fury. Something lurches in your stomach.

"I thought your kind’s supposed to be insatiable," he says, leaning in to nuzzle at your collarbone. His medallion bumps against your breasts with a sharp vibration as his fingers trail down your side, a slow, torturously delicate touch. "You can give me one more."

It’s not a question. Still, the hands parting your legs even further are almost as gentle as they are relentless. A light press to your overstimulated clit has you keen, spasming around his cock, and he chuckles lowly.

"Eyes on me."

You hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut again. You’re leaning heavily into him now, another wave of pleasure starting to build as the smell of his magic envelopes you.

He growls, moving both of you around so you’re spread open on your dining table, him leaning over you with a look that wants to devour you whole. Like you’re the one being served up for him to make a meal out of. Impossibly, he’s growing hard again as his deft hands coax you closer to your next release.

"Just one more."

It’s such an obvious lie, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re brimming with energy, dizzyingly replenished and yet still ravenous. The air is humming with it, the promise of more.

"Don’t lie to me, Witcher," you still gasp.

His smile is positively sinful. "You said it yourself. I’m just so generous."

You’re so full. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his aura flickering with lust, rich and decadent and beautiful.

"In other words," he continues, his lips brushing your ear right as you reach your peak again. "We are just getting started."

this fic was brought to you by horny hyperfixations. reblogs and comments are what keep your local writers sustained!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics to get notified whenever i post 💛

[dadvans]

buck v. gerrard (season 8)

they'd probably play it for drama, but in a hypothetical break-up of the 118 where buck has to go report to gerrard, i can imagine him undermining gerrard in every way for pure hilarity:

gerrard tries to do the muddy boots on clean floor or chrome trick after buck is done cleaning. he gives buck a knowing look, but buck nods and is like, "don't worry, cap, i know the drill," then turns around and yells PROBIE! to get the new grad's attention, so he can delegate cleaning. the bigger problem is afterward when gerrard sees buck giving the probie a pat on the back, like, hey man, better than i've ever done it! look at that! great job! (Buck: 1, Gerrard: 0)

gerrard tries to make buck stay behind on-shift part one: buck does a full inventory, and when the truck rolls back in the house, buck is holding up new color-coded spreadsheets about regular inventory checks to be initialed by someone on each shift, x amount many times a week. surely, he won't be able to enforce it, but--

gerrard tries to make buck stay behind on-shift part two: when the truck rolls back in the house, buck has made dinner for everyone. "you hungry, guys?" he calls down. everyone goes upstairs to see a gourmet fucking meal, and the only thing that isn't absolutely spotless in the entire firehouse is buck's apron and the towel he has over his shoulder. gerrard, pissed, goes to eat his cold leftover pizza in his office, alone. (Buck: 2, Gerrard: 0)

so, after that, everyone is adhering to buck's inventory management schedule (Buck: 3, Gerrard: 0)

gerrard starts bringing buck on calls so he can't undermine him anymore, and he's heard about this kid, he's a disaster magnet and he doesn't always follow protocol, so maybe he'll be able to exercise his authority, find a clear cut path to a suspension or even (he tries not to be too hopeful) a termination. the only time buck goes against protocol is when a beam in a warehouse fire unexpectedly falls and pins gerrard to the floor when they're supposed to be evacuating, and buck's the one who turns around and saves him. (Buck: 4, Gerrard: 0)

gerrard wakes up in the hospital. buck is sitting there, fusses over him, and then in the gentlest way possible tells gerrard he's on administrative leave because of the shoulder, but it's ok! buck's been there before, i mean, when he was much younger so he's not sure what coming back from that's like at gerrard's age. before he leaves he's like, oh, and one more thing. takes out his phone, gets next to gerrard and snaps a selfie of the two of them. he then looks at the photo fondly, says, "ha. tommy's gonna love this one. okay, see ya, cap!" and leaves. (Buck: 5, Gerrard: 0)

[writingbyshiloh]

Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan. 

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan. 

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying. 

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress. 

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words. 

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them. 

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend. 

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her. 

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all. 

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table. 

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way. 

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window. 

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too. 

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go. 

You stand and straighten out your dress. 

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself. 

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up. 

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is. 

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting. 

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it. 

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.” 

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going. 

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest. 

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking. 

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near. 

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again. 

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible. 

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit. 

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan. 

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall. 

[buuniebaby]

you and hamzah going round FOR round

NOTHING WITHOUT YOU. 🎀

includes: cute fluff at the start -> turns to v much rough sex. spanking, choking, slight degrading he gets a lil mean.. mentions of semi public sex

wc: 3.4k

back from vacation! hope u all enjoy 💖

there’s an overwhelming aura floating around the crowded house, and it’s draining the life out of you and your boyfriend.

neither of you are really the most social people in general, which is why it probably wasn’t the greatest idea to attend a family get-together with your side - the biggest yappers you know. you think you’re starting to see faces blur together as you continue to awkwardly smile, not paying attention to the conversation you’ve been dragged into.

you feel a wide hand slide just beneath your midriff, and you don’t need to look to know who it belongs too. you’ve already fixated enough on hamzah’s presence: the way he touches you, his smell, his breathing. his proximity makes you calm down a bit, exhaustion beginning to melt off your shoulders.

you shift your attention from the conversation back to your boyfriend, looking up at him from over your shoulder while his arms are wrapped around your waist. he gives you a look of reassurance, and you can tell already that he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“i think we might head out now.” he murmurs, voice soothing and soft. you smile up at him - a way to thank him for saving you from awkward social interactions - a much more genuine smile than the forced one you’ve had this whole time.

after saying your goodbyes, he walks you out with a protective arm around you. he stays like that until you two reach the car, and the subtle touch makes your heart jump to your throat.

he drives, hand softly pressed against your thigh, and you pull small talk out of him. you’ve found that throughout your whole relationship, that he just doesn’t happen to be a big talker. not that he doesn’t want to; he has things to say, he just doesn’t know how to unless you give him the opportunity. It’s the total opposite to how he is on camera, rambling and joking around with martin. he’s told you that he still gets nervous around you sometimes, even after months of dating, meeting your parents and literally moving in together - it’s endearing to you.

it’s a relatively far drive from where the two of you reside. not far enough that you’d ever have to spend the night away or anything, but far enough that you have to pee and he has to get gas. you’re running to the bathroom around the side of the building, and it really looks like you could get a disease or something back here, but your urge to piss is worse than whatever you could possibly be contracting.

you’re reminded how good he treats you when you find your way back to the car, only to see that hamzah’s grabbed you your favorite candy and a dr. pepper.

“thank you, baby.” you smile, genuinely greatful for the way he takes care of you. “so sweet to me.”

“only for you.” is all he replies back, voice deep and soft. you like moments like this, when you do things for each other without thinking. it lets you know he really cares.

his hand stays on your thigh for the entirety of the drive back. you’re arriving back at your place before you know it, fishing the house keys out of your pocket, freezing when you feel his hands run over your shoulder blades, traveling down to your waist. you’ve noticed how touchy he’s been with you all day. he’s been busy the past week, working on podcast stuff and getting the new studio situated - you guys haven’t had sex in almost two weeks. poor boy is probably pent up.

you’re wandering into your shared bed the moment the door is opened, falling into it face-first. hamzah follows you, snuggling in next to you. you feel his palm caress your back softly, feeling up your body.

“been missing you.” hamzah mutters. it’s enough to get you to lift your head off of the bed, unable to tell if he means it in an “i want to fuck you” way or an “i wanna cuddle and watch a movie with you” kind of way.

“hmm?” you say, tilting your head, shuffling to his side of the bed. hamzah eyes you up and down for a second, pursing his lips.

“c’mere.” he mumbles, patting his lap twice. you follow his commands, sitting between his thighs, hands balancing you out on his biceps. “atta girl.” he murmurs under his breath as his hands trace down your body, feeling up your ass specifically.

he’s kissing you before you know it, nothing slow and sweet like he normally is. it’s needy, desperate even, and it makes you feel weak. he’s pulling you as close as he can as your lips press up against each others, pinning you into place.

“missed you really fucking bad.” he says, same comment as last time, but more desperation in it. if it isn’t obvious already, you’ve come to the conclusion that he means it in an “i want to fuck you” way.

a hand creeps down under the softness of your hoodie (actually, his hoodie, which is one of many that you’ve stolen), pushing it up over your head and leaving you in just a lacy bra and nike pro shorts - the ones you know he likes because of the way it shows off your body.

he kisses you again, hard and deep, licking into your mouth like he’s never tasted anything better. he’s pulling away not soon after, one hand on your waist, the other trying to pull your bra off. he’s a little too far gone, struggling to yank it off as fast as he can, so you help him by unclipping it.

he stares as it comes off, groaning at the sight. he loves your tits, you’ve noticed, always taking time to play with them or suck on them like he’s a baby during foreplay. he’s already kneading a hand into one of them, sucking on the other hard enough to bruise. there’s teeth and tongue and it’s messy and wet - exactly how he likes it. you grind your hips against him a little, realizing how hard he’s gotten from just this, and giggle. it gives you an ego boost, how obsessed he is with your body.

“you don’t understand how bad- fuck.” he pauses when your hips meet his again. “how badly i wanted to fuck you.”

“yeah?” you smirk, voice smooth, yet still sounding almost as gone as he is.

“yeah.” he says, gripping onto your waist, slamming your clothed hips down onto his with a groan. “when i was looking at that studio with martin- he had to leave early, and i kept thinking about you.” he rambles, stuttering a bit as you grind into him. “fucking- got so hard- came all over my hand in the bathroom.” he groans. your eyes widen, blushing a little when what he just said hit you. he jerked off.. in public.. to you.

that’s.. really fucking hot.

you’re so turned on and it must show in your face, because hamzah is picking you up already. your instinct is to straddle him, wrapping your legs around him koala-style, but before you can move he throws you down onto the bed. big hands grip your thighs as he spreads your legs apart, pulling down your shorts and panties all in one swoop. he throws the shorts away, but keeps the panties. there’s a pause for a second, and you look up at him, confused.

“wanna make sure you stay quiet.” he mutters, breathy. he gets on top of you, arms pinning you down from each side, and then shoves your thong into your mouth.

fuck.

you can taste yourself on it, dripping with wetness from how badly you want him. he only smirks at you from above, then moves down, face to face with your pussy.

“stay quiet for me, okay?” is all he says before he’s diving in, mouth on your clit. you can’t help but moan at the sinful feeling through his makeshift gag. plus, you know that there might be a consequence to being noisy - which is exactly what you want right now.

his tongue is wide as he laps at your pussy, two fingers entering you before you know it. another loud moan gets him to stop for a second, biting down on your thigh. it’s like a warning, letting you know you’re on thin ice.

he wraps his strong arms around your thighs before he’s lapping up at you again, sucking at your clit while he curls his fingers up into you.

he slaps your thigh this time when you moan, and it only makes you louder - his last straw.

you whimper when he stops and stands up, watching as he pulls down his shorts and takes his cock out of his boxers. he positions his thighs so that they’re surrounding your shoulders, and he rips your panties out of your mouth. he strokes his cock with them for a second, speaking as he does it.

“if you don’t shut the fuck up-“ he pauses, groaning, “I’ll do it for you.”

your eyes widen. he’s getting mean, and you like it.

“mm?” is all you can say, pushing him to get meaner. he throws the panties to the side, then rubs his cock against your lips, now closed. his precum makes them glossy and shiny.

“so now you shut your mouth?” he says, cocky. it’s what he does next that really shocks you - a large hand comes down on your face, slapping you against the cheek.

“fucking open up.” is what he commands, and god you listen. his cock immediately goes all the way down your throat, a hand gripping at your hair.

“made me wait, so fuckin’ long- and this is how you treat me when i finally get to fuck you?” he growls, cock hitting the back of your throat again and again. you’re overwhelmed by the sensation of him using your mouth like it’s your pussy, barely giving you time to pull off and breathe, but god is it hot. his balls slap against your chin with each thrust, nose touching his thick pubic hair.

“fuckin’ choke on it- good girl.” he says, a finger playing with a loc of your hair. you love the way he praises you even when he’s being rough. at the end of the day, you’re still his princess.

his eyes flutter shut, hips stuttering and head rolling back when he cums, filling your mouth and making you choke. he pauses for a minute, cock sensitive, moaning at the feeling of you swallowing. there’s a long string of a spit and cum mixture that trails out of your mouth when he pulls out, coating your chin. he uses his dick to smear it around a little, making a mess. you smile, dizzy.

he stares at you in a haze, placing a soft kiss on your lips - he’s as sweet as he is rough.

“still wanna fuck you,” he whispers in your ear, voice deep and raspy. “until i’m fucking cumming dry.” god, the way he talks to you is so fucking hot.

he’s manhandling you again, flipping you over onto your stomach. you think he gets an ego boost from the way he can just grab you and throw you around. you’re not complaining either, to be fair; it’s hot.

you stick your ass up in the air, arching your back, knowing the sight is gonna turn him on. your thoughts are confirmed when you hear him groan, spreading the cheeks out to see your pretty pussy leak for him. he grabs his cock, sliding the tip against your folds, being careful not to slip in with how wet you are. you look back at him from behind, biting your lip and making eye contact.

“you look like a braindead fucking slut right now.” he says, out of nowhere. it’s dirty, a gross way to talk about you, but god does it make you wetter. he leans down, planting kisses on your neck, before wrapping his hands around your throat.

he’s sliding his cock in while he chokes you, and if your throat wasn’t already cooked from all the face-fucking earlier, it definitely is now. the stretch feels good for both of you; you know by the way he’s already setting a fast pace.

you can barely speak from the way he’s taking your breath away, from both the choking and the way he’s pounding into you, but you manage to choke out a strangled “hit me.”

you’re craving the roughness, and it makes him fucking feral. before you know it a hand is coming down on your ass, smacking you while his hips do the same. he continues until your ass is bright red, taking pride in the way he knows it’s gonna be bruised.

he moves his hand from your ass to your hair, gripping at the ends of it. your head is pulled back, accentuating the arch of your back, and it only makes his pace faster.

your hips are grinding against his, feeling your insides squeeze around him. your clit meets his hips each time he thrusts into you, and god, does it feel good. your vision spots as you feel your pussy flutter around him, and before you know it you’re cumming around his cock.

he pulls out moments after your orgasm, but you know he isn’t done with you yet. he flips you around and kisses you, picking you up by the ass and lifting you into his arms. your legs wrap around him instinctively, kissing him even deeper.

his hands move from your ass to the backs of your thighs, and you’re in awe of how he’s even capable of holding you up like this. you jolt as you feel him slam your back against the wall, and all of a sudden he’s holding you up against it with just a single hand. god, he’s so fucking strong.

he used the other hand to stroke himself (barely) before he pushes his cock back into you, both hands moving to your body. he thrusts into you, pinned up against his wall. his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, adding more than a few hickies. he likes to claim you like that, show everybody that you’re his. as much as it is scandalous, he fucking loves it when you show up on the podcast or in a video with hickies; he wants everyone to know that you’re his baby.

“h-hamzah,” you whine, overstimulated by the way he fucks your sensitive pussy even after your orgasm.

“yeah baby?” he asks, voice breathy as he thrusts into you, keeping his rapid pace.

“want you to cum inside me- fuck- so ffucking bad. don’t care if you get me pregnant.” you cry out, feeling his dick twitch inside you at his words.

and fuck, that does something to hamzah’s brain. hypothetically, he knows that probably isn’t a good idea, but god does the thought of it make him feel fucking feral. he decides between it for a few seconds in his head, before going with the option of “fuck it, we can get plan b after.”

you feel the drags of his cock inside you slow down, the “plap” sound of his thrusts getting deeper and louder, and suddenly your insides are warm and wet, being filled up by hamzah’s hot cum.

he takes a second to breathe, hands shaking a bit, but doesn’t pull out. you wrap your hands around his neck, keeping yourself upright. he’s already moving, cock still inside you - you give him a confused look as he opens the door and brings you out to the kitchen.

he grabs onto your thighs, picking you up and pulling you off his cock. he sits you right down on the kitchen counter, and suddenly you know exactly what he’s trying to do.

he crouches down onto the floor, getting on his knees. he’s face-to-face with the counter now, and about to be face-to-face with your cunt as he grabs your hips and pulls them to his mouth.

you expect him to dive in again, tear you apart, but he takes a different route. he spreads your lips apart with his fingers, gently thumbing your clit. you watch him, staring at your pussy, still sort of confused, until his cum begins to drip out of you.

he latches on to your pussy, licking at every drop of cum leaking out of you. not only does it feel good, but they way he’s lapping at his cum mixed with your juices is really, really fucking hot. you reach a hand down to your own pussy, rubbing yourself while he eats you out.

he continues until he’s nearly licked you dry and you’ve both settled after the intensity of the last few rounds. he kisses you, softly. it’s different from the rough tone of before, more like a “thank you” kiss.

he rests his head on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses over the deep red hickies he had left before. a soft hand massages your back, and you hear him whisper.

“think you can do one more?”

a blush creeps onto your cheeks at the question. you’ve never gone this long before, but the idea of fucking while still extra sensitive from the overstimulation is a lot more tempting than it should be. you smirk, deciding that you’re up for it.

“as long as you cum inside again.” is all you have to say before he’s lifting you up again, throwing you down onto the couch. he crawls on top of you, placing calloused hands on your small hips.

“all I have to do is touch you, and you’re already sounding so fucking pretty for me.” he mumbles when he hears the soft noises that come out of your mouth. he latches onto your collarbone, leaving more marks before he shoves his face into your titties. he’s such a fucking fiend, it makes you giggle a little.

you buck your hips up, too horny to be embarrassed by the moan you let out from him simply sucking on your nipple. a hand suddenly comes down on your pelvis, hard. you try to roll your hips, but his strong grip keeps you in place.

“gonna fucking break you.” he says, and god you need him more now than you ever have before. you watch him grip his cock in his hand, hard as a rock. your hips roll up for him, and he can’t help but force his cock into you with one big, long thrust.

“fuck- hamzah-“ you say, blood rushing to your head. he’s kept his hand on your lower half this whole time, pushing low on the place where his cock bulges against skin in your stomach, and god he’s so fucking big and it’s so sexy.

he’s pounding into you, fat cock twitching inside you and you can’t help but already feel a burning heat in your stomach, clenching hard around him.

“hamzah!” you nearly scream, the coil snapping in your stomach. you feel yourself drench his dick in your juices, pulsing around him - like a chain reaction, it only makes him cum even harder inside you, spilling his seed into your insides.

he rides out his orgasm, collapsing next to you. heavy breathing, he brushes a hand through his messy curls. he does that thing where he nuzzles his head in your neck again, and you lean into the touch, playing with his hair. you kiss him on the forehead, trying to convey all the love you felt in that moment to him.

he looks up at you, soft. it’s almost submissive; you can see the love in his eyes.

“you okay?” you ask, making sure he’s not dissociating too badly.

he nods. “can I- can- can you kiss me?” he mumbles, causing you to melt a little bit at the softness. you pull him in for a soft kiss, moving slowly. you savor the taste of him in the moment, taking it all in.

“love you.” he mutters as he pulls away. “sorry if i was like- too rough. I don’t wanna actually hurt you, I just like, stop thinking when i get a certain amount of horny, it’s like-“

you cut off his rambling with a kiss, smiling against his lips.

“you’re fine.” you giggle. “it was hot anyways.”

[thewordypeach]

Milk

Milk (Cream)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 3.3k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, fingering, slight orgasm count, oral fixation??, titty sucking (lactation kink), fingering, implied breeding kink?!? summary: Joel doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done. author's note: i should be studying for my finals next week but joel miller sucking titties is obviously more important, and i just couldn't help myself! i just had to write it!!! the result? it's hot. maybe too hot - can you handle it? i know i couldn't. xoxo the wordy peach <3

“Only nine weeks left!” Ellie says excitedly, peering at your protruding stomach with wide eyes of wonderment. She can’t wait to meet her little sister or brother, and each week since announcing your pregnancy, Ellie crosses off a week in her little calendar. 

Fondly, you smile at her. She’s been your saving grace during this pregnancy - distracting you with every question possible. She even managed to get it out of you when you and Joel convinced the damn thing (“It was that night at the stables, wasn’t it?”)

“Nine weeks,” She repeats with a confident nod; she glances at you, a single eyebrow raised, “Have you looked at the list of names I gave you?”

You let out a chuckle, nodding, “Yes, Ellie - I look at it every night,”

Her eyes widen, “Every night?”

“Every damn night,” Joel grumbles as he walks into the room. He’s exhausted from the extra shifts he’s been putting in because he wants time off for the baby. With tired, bleary eyes, Joel looks at Ellie, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She glares at him, points directly at your belly, and speaks with conviction, “Well, technically, I am in health class, and if I have to learn about procreation, Joel, I want her to teach me,"

Exasperated, Joel sighs. He shakes his head with frustration, and briefly, you can see the hint of annoyance on his tired face. He looks at Ellie with his eyebrows knitted together - she knows better than to argue with him. She purses her lips into a thin line and begins gathering school supplies. Ellie ignores Joel and starts idly chatting about her day and her plans.

She’s looking forward to the new reading assignment and asking if you’ll help her later with something. You rub your belly and nod, “Of course, Ellie - you know where I’ll be,”

A flicker of concern mixed with panic crosses her face. She glances at you; you know she’s asking if you’ll really be here when she returns. Ellie confirms, a slight wavering in her voice, “You’ll be here, right?” 

You feel a pang of empathy for her. The world you live in is uncertain - even here, in Jackson, there’s no guarantee of safety. You understand her fear, and reassuringly, you tell her, “Yes, Ellie - I’ll be home all day,”

She nods, and her shoulder’s visibly relax at your confirmation. But before leaving, Ellie just has to turn to Joel and says, “She isn’t feeling good today, so don’t be a dick - or else I will know, and you’ll have to deal with me,” 

As Joel sips his water, Ellie shoots him a stern look. Despite what your partner likes to think, you both know Ellie is in charge. Her gaze holds a silent warning, and you stifle a chuckle, watching as she finally leaves the house. Once the door is closed, silence falls between you and Joel. It’s tense; his eyes penetrate you, noting your skin's paleness and its sickly sheen of sweat. Usually you’re glowing -

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks in that demanding tone of his. 

You sigh, shaking your head, “It’s nothing,”

“Babe,” Joel warns, and you hear him shuffling over before the chair next to you pulls out, and he’s sitting there. He places a hand on your thigh and repeats his question more gently this time. 

“I’m…” You think about the right words, carefully selecting them, “Uncomfortable,”

Confessing this to your partner is almost embarrassing. Maybe it’s his rough exterior that makes you feel like this. Joel, who is waiting patiently, peers at you. His eyes soften, and he looks at you with such tenderness. You’ve been missing these moments because he’s never home anymore. 

He presses, “C’mon, darlin'… tell me what’s wrong,”

Your cheeks flush pink, and after a minute or two, you admit: “My boobs hurt,”

Joel gives you an incredulous look, and his cheeks blush too. His gaze turns to your breasts - even he can’t deny how much they’ve grown in the past few weeks. Joel knows they’re swollen with milk for the incoming baby, but he doesn’t understand how uncomfortable you are. He probably never will because, biologically, he’s a man.

He watches as you reach up, adjusting your tits, groaning out a slew of complaints: “My nipples are so fucking sensitive and hard all the goddamn time! I feel like I’m in that stupid Austin Power movie with the fembots and their machine gun titties,” Joel knows the movie you are referring to, and he can’t help but chuckle and hearing this makes your eyes narrow at him. 

“Are you seriously fucking laughing at me, Joel?” Your voice is emotional, and you attempt to stand, but it’s useless. Your stupid round belly makes it impossible to do anything, and sadness floods your hormonal body. You whine, “I am so fat -”

Joel shakes his head, watching as your face goes through several emotions simultaneously. There’s not much he can do, but he does reassure you that you are not fat - “You are pregnant,”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You grumble, arms crossing over your chest. You wince because you’re nipples feel like they’re on fire, and you feel like they’re about to burst at any second. You wiggle uncomfortably and pout at Joel. He’s thinking of ways to help and can only think of a single thing that might help but is hesitant about bringing it up. 

“What if…” He trails off, swallowing the dry lump growing in his throat, “What if I help… relieve some of that pressure?” 

Your eyebrows furrow together, confused. “How?” 

“Umm,” He glances around. He knows it’s just the two of you, but he wants to make sure because he’s about to suggest something crazy. His voice drops an octave, suggesting, “I can milk you,”

Your jaw slacks, and you hiss, “Like a cow?”

“N-no!” Joel sputters, hands waving aimlessly around, but it dawns on him it’s exactly like that, and sheepishly, he says: “Okay, yeah… it might be similar to that,” 

“Joel,” Your voice wavers, hot tears swell in your eyes. You feel stupid! And your emotions won’t stop. You know he’s just trying to help, but dammit! Joel just called you a cow - “I can’t believe you think I’m a cow,” 

Joel gives you an apologetic look. He’s sympathetic to your situation; he knows you don’t mean to be this hormonal, and he knows it’s his child doing this to you. He places a hand on your belly and gently rubs the fabric of his stretched-out shirt (the only one that fits!). He leans over, “Darlin’… you’re not a cow. You’re growing a baby. And I think, from what I read, that your milk ducts need to be expressed,”

“What does that mean? Expressed? Are you going to suck the milk out, Joel?” 

Joel's cheeks redden, and the sultry tone in your voice surprises him. He thinks he has imagined it, but then, Joel sees how your eyes darken into a lustful frequency. He reads your message loud and clear. 

Without hesitation, Joel captures your jaw between his rough fingers and kisses you. It’s sweet. Gentle. Exactly what you need to forget your frustration with him. But of course, you want more. You deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue across Joel’s lower lip and dipping your tongue into his mouth. Ever so slightly, he groans. He loves it when your forward. 

You’re leaning over, as far as you can with your belly, and place your hands onto Joel’s jean-clad thighs. You must hold onto something for balance because your stupid belly messes with your center of gravity. You have yet to get used to it. You’re trying to climb into Joel’s lap, but it’s useless. You’re struggling to lift your body into his, and you pull back, huffing in frustration. 

“This stupid belly!” You mutter while rubbing it. Joel finds your annoyance cute, and despite his best effort, Joel’s cock is already stirring inside his pants. It’s been a while since you two had sex, and today is the day that he’s going to fuck you after weeks of hiatus. 

“Babe, it’s not stupid,” Joel coos and helps you stand. Your belly knocks into his, and it makes him smile. His teeth flash, and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He can’t believe he’s going to be a father again. He can’t wait to meet his little one. But, for now, Joel must give you some relief because it is his fault that you’re in this position. He’s the one who kept pumping his seed into your womb. 

Joel knew the consequences of not using a condom, and here he is - reaping what he sowed. He begins leading you to the bedroom, insisting, “Let me take care of you,” 

“We shouldn’t - I have to meet Maria in an hour, and it’ll take me at least 45 minutes to waddle there,” 

Joel ignores you, pulling your body into the room and shutting the door swiftly behind you. He doesn’t need prying eyes on what he’s about to do. Joel starts by showering your jaw and neck with kisses, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of his shirt before tugging it off. He nearly gasps from seeing your breasts, practically spilling out of the tiny bra that once fit your tits so perfectly. 

You feel Joel devouring your body, noting how his hungry eyes stare at your chest. You mutter, “They’re massive, aren’t they?” 

“They’re perfect, babe,” Joel nods and wraps an arm around your body. With a single finger, he unlatches your bra, and your tits spring free as the garment falls to the ground. A groan of surprise escapes Joel’s throat, and his hard cock strains against his zipper. He marvels at your milky skin, strewn with veins and stretch marks. He reaches and cups them, his fingers ghosting over your nipples, which are a deeper colour than before. Even in these short weeks, your body has made changes he wasn’t even aware of. 

You hiss, “Joel,” but your eyes close because the relief of him holding your breasts has taken the strain off your back. He blows a soft gust at your left side and watches as your face twists into discomfort. 

“Shit, darlin’… are they really that sensitive?” 

You whimper, “Yeah - they’re that sensitive,” 

“If it hurts, tell me to stop,” Joel instructs before he lowers his mouth to your breast. He kisses the skin, and you melt beneath the attention. When Joel swipes his tongue across the rock-hard nipple, you bite back the yelp that threatens to come out and instead focus on how Joel gingerly kneads the pillowy flesh that drapes from your chest. He’s listening to you, waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you don’t. You’re bearing the torment he's putting you through because you know it will feel good at some point. And eventually, it does. 

It’s undeniable: Joel’s hands on your breasts feel amazing, and his warm mouth working on your right nipple is starting to create wetness between your thighs. As his fingers continue, you notice a new sensation in your breast that makes you squirm. At that moment, you feel a release as something emerges from your nipple and shoots into Joel’s mouth. You gasp and watch as he finally yields, pulling away from your body. You see the slightest evidence of white dew on his lower lip, and when you look down at your nipple, it's leaking with the same substance. You are shocked, unsure of what to do. 

“Does that feel better, darlin’?” Joel hums. Hastily, you nod and swallow dryly. It does feel better, but you need more relief. 

You gaze at Joel, eyelids cutely fluttering at him. You sheepishly ask, “What about the other side?” 

Joel just smiles and helps you onto the bed. He places two extra pillows behind your back, ensuring you’re comfy before he settles down. He raises his head again, latching his mouth onto your other breast. Once more, the feeling is overwhelming. Almost too much to bear. You grit through the discomfort, relenting to the sensation of Joel’s mouth and hand as he works. Soon enough, another squirt of hidden cream comes forth. 

It has you moaning this time, and you bask in the momentary relief. And instead of leaving your breast unattended, your hands thread through Joel’s dishevelled hair, and you keep him there. Breathlessly, you demand, “Don’t stop,” He listens and continues to work your breasts until your moans are frantic and your thighs continuously flex. Your arousal has grown to great heights, and an aching desire radiates in your core for the first time in a long time. 

You reach down, fingers dipping into your sweatpants - again, it’s the only thing that fits - and notice how soaked your panties are. Of course, these days, it's a common occurrence. Pregnancy has your body changing in ways you didn’t even consider. Some of them are shocking, and some of them are annoying. Since the first trimester, the idea of sex repulses you. And it made you feel guilty because you live to please Joel. But your lovely partner doesn’t mind; he’s just been taking longer showers, which has been pissing Ellie off because there’s often no hot water left for her - 

Joel notices your hand sliding into your pants and wants some of that action too. He takes one hand and places it on top of yours. Sharply, you inhale. You love how Joel is guiding your hand to his will. With his skillful touch, it doesn’t take long to reach the peak, turning you into a groaning mess as waves of pleasure swell and roll across your body. You notice how your belly quivers with delight too.

As you descend from the peak, you let Joel go. He lifts his head and wipes his milk-laced mouth before kissing you on the lips. You taste yourself. It’s sweet and creamy, reminding you of something you can’t quite place. As Joel’s tongue explores your mouth, you relish the feeling because it’s been too long. You missed his passion, and you missed him ravishing your body. 

“Joel, I need you,” You whine through kisses as your hands wander up and down his back, attempting to undress him. He moves, and his shirt and pants are on the ground within seconds. With no underwear in sight, your eyes lock onto his dick, hanging freely. The presence of it never fails to make you drool. 

Despite his quick movements to undress, Joel takes a slower approach with you and leisurely removes your sweatpants. His hands work with delicate precision, especially when he’s around your stomach. It’s incredibly frustrating for you, and you’re huffing in annoyance. It’s never been like this before. He’s always so rough, taking on a lusty savageness, and Joel would be inside by now. However, he’s still working off your panties. 

“Joel,” You whimper. Your body vibrates with anticipation, and you don’t know how much more you can take. You need his cock, and you don’t care if something goes wrong. Months of built-up horniness are making you reckless. You beg, “Please just fuck me already,” 

His eyes snap to yours. They’re dark with desire. As he places his body between your thighs, he murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” Joel anticipates your reply - stupid belly - and hushes you before it can come out: “It’s not stupid - it’s love,”

“Love?” You whisper, confused. It’s not common, and Joel has only used it once. Morning sickness took over, and you were throwing up for weeks. Ellie and Joel thought you were dying. And, of course, for a little while, you believed them. It wasn’t until Maria asked when your last period did you clue in. And when you relayed that message to Joel, his grumpy face went unusually slack before joy took over. He swept you into his arms, kissed you, and said: 

“I love you,” He repeats while wrapping a hand around his cock, lowering it to your glistening, swollen exterior. Expertly, he glides the crown of his cock up and down, watching as your juices coat it. You moan because your pussy is so unbelievably sensitive that another climax is blooming in your core. Joel finds himself commenting: “Goddamn… Your cunt is soaking wet,”

You squirm, hips wiggling as you spread your thighs further apart. You hate begging for it, but your cunt yearns for fulfillment. “Please!”

Joel presses his big, round tip against your tight entrance. You bite your lower lip, eyes gazing down at the penetration point, but your belly is in the way. You can’t see what’s happening but don’t have to because you suddenly feel his cock pushing through. At first, your velvet channel is resistant, but that doesn’t deter Joel.

As your walls grip his cock, coating it in a creamy warmth, Joel tosses his head back and sighs with satisfaction. It’s been so long. His hand has nothing on your pussy. Joel delves his cock as deep as possible, and you can feel it practically bulging inside your stomach. And when Joel places his hands on either side of your protruding belly, your impending orgasm rips through.

“Mmm, cumming already,” Your pussy convulses and clenches as a powerful wave of immeasurable pleasure crashes. White, hot flashes across your vision, sweeping you into a moment of intensity. Joel admires as your body undulates beneath him, studying as your belly ripples. He knows the pregnancy is the reason for your quick orgasms, and he wonders how many he can get out before he cums. 

With a mission in mind, Joel lets you come back down before he starts to rock his hips back and forth. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling with a third orgasm. You cry out, hands gripping the sheets below. You barely have time to catch your breath before Joel ups his pace, and he excitedly speers your pussy with youthful energy. 

Hypnotically, Joel watches as your tits bounce with each thrust, and soon enough, his fingers are back on them. He squeezes and kneads until the milk sprays out with a such force that it sprinkles across your chest and coats his hands. A feral growl escapes from your mouth, “Joel,” 

Your vision swirls, and your body shivers with ecstasy as a fourth orgasm rolls through. You gasp, sucking in as much air as you can. You look at Joel, marveling at his skin's sheer layer of sweat. He has a look of concentration on his face, and you know he must be close. You encourage him to cum, repeatedly. 

But before he can, a fifth and final climax hits your body. It has you swearing and calling Joel names, “You fucking bastard,” as your pussy floods and swells around his cock. By this point, there’s a growing puddle beneath your ass, and Joel’s cock is exploring your molten wetness with ease. His flesh claps against yours and echos across the room. His groans are uncontrollable now, and he screws his eyes shut, trying to hold back. 

The effort is futile, and he slams into your body, forgetting about being gentle. A stern look of arousal etches upon his face, and a deep, low guttural grunt spills from his lips. He doesn’t have a chance to warn you because his cock surges with a thick, plentiful rope of his cum, and floods your cunt with a warm stickiness. His hands are back and resting against your belly. Joel juts his hips forward, pushing a second load of cum deep into your cunt. He doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done.

[toxicanonymity]

raider masterlist

dark!Joel x f!reader | updated: August 29, 2024: calling him daddy

moodboard by @milla-frenchy 🖤 a rb will not stay up-to-date.

SUMMARY: He's a bad guy, and you're his good girl. Joel saves you from bad men, but claims you for himself. His persona starts to crack, but he gets even more possessive. You're his world, and he'll do anything to keep you. Emotional slow burn but smut the whole time. WARNINGS: 18+ canon-typical violence, noncon via implicit threat, evolving to enthusiastic dubious consent (stockholm syndrome), depraved use of praise and pet names (sweet pea, baby), unsafe P in V, exhibitionism, extreme possessiveness, dark fluff (🖤), angst, and more. NO USE of Y/N, No physical description of reader.

Spotify: raider, sweet pea (smut) Optional reference: trailer floor plan

Carter masterlist

main story

Note, non-bold links in this section were written out of order and may contain spoilers or references to future events. their placement in this list is based on timeline.

Raider: (Mar 24, 2023) - He "saves" you, then has his way with you but is kinda sweet about it. Joel POV (Oct 3, 1k)

Failed Rescue (Apr 8 - 1.9k) Your bf tries to save you. Joel makes him watch then keeps you.

Stash House (Apr 11 - 850)- Joel takes you to the stash house and shows everyone you're his. Wash Bin 🖤 (Aug 27, 1k) Shooting Practice Drabble(Jul 28, 1.6k)

Failed Escape (Apr 23, 4k)- Joel saves you from FEDRA, bathes you, amd edges you.

J. Miller (May 19, 2k) - Joel labels you with his switchblade and claims all your holes. dark. Can be skipped.

Home (May 29, 1.3k) - Joel makes dinner at home, cleans your chest, and tucks you in. 🖤

Company (Jun 9, 2.2k) - Joel brings home a girl to distract his men. dark. Extra Scene - angst.

Close (Jul 3, 2.7k) - close call with other raiders. You-almost-died sex, and later, tender sex 🖤

Gun Hug (Jul 31, 3.7k) - Joel traps 2 bad guys with some help and kills them while you. . .🖤 If you want him (1.5k) - he holds out to see🖤

Night Air (Aug 30, 3.5k) - Joel is brutal with a bad guy and his POV reveals some feelings. 🖤 Bonus blurb, wakeup pwp drabble

Hunger (Sep 29, 7k) - Joel takes you on a trek, comforts you, kills a guy, and gives you head. 🖤 He's only human (1.1k) - 👱‍♂️Carter POV, overlaps w/ hunger.

Bodies (Dec 3, 7.8k) - Strangers show up and cause a shitstorm, but Joel takes a big step. 🖤 Raider POV

No cliffhangers. Bulletin from Tox

more (drabbles, etc)

🔥 smut

Trying to use him (800) (riding) 🔥

House meeting drabble 🖤

You get sick at night drabble 🖤

He goes down on you (oral f) 🔥

If you touched his scar

if men had hurt you in the past

if you got your period 🖤

magazine and makeup 🖤

yoga pwp drabble piv 1k 🔥

boots drabble (oral f receiving) 🔥

graveyard blurb (spice)

if you bit his arm drabble (p in v) 🔥

If you snapped (emotional spice) 🖤

face sitting on sofa 🔥

being bad, looking good (2.8k, smut) 🔥

Van ride drabble (800) 🖤

sleeping beast (<1k), PWP 🔥

If Joel was sick 🖤

If you were annoying

cutting his hair 🖤

waking up on top 🔥

tired 🖤

waking up on top again 🔥

Sweet pea overhears Joel 🔥

Choking on his dick (600) 🔥

his birthday 🥺

if she called him daddy 🔥

Note: not all content is linked. Asks can lead to lore, snippets, and previews or hints of future plot points, etc. which are not added here.

Headcanons (not written like fic)

If another man has his way (Q&A)

dacryphilia - evolved update (Q&A)

if you had scars or tattoos (Q&A)

👱‍♂️raider carter Qs, face claim (Q&A)

sweet pea by herself

If you sketched Joel and Jack

Apple picking 🖤

Responding to a Nightmare

accidentally hurting her

Analysis (#raider!analysis)

why does he keep her

why did he snap (in Company extra scene)

his eye contact

his affection / feelings, trajectory 🖤

falling for sweet pea

his self hate and her feelings

the dog and joel's concern for you

awareness of growth / why keep her

Raider Tommy

Birds of prey (2.6k)

Art, etc.

Mattress by esquire magazine

Stitches by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

collage by @milla-frenchy

lose control edit by @survivingandenduring

🌸 sweet pea mood boards by various

6 month collage by milla-frenchy

6 month cake by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

🌸 sweet pea cosplay from night air

👱‍♂️carter mood board by @romana-after-dark

pts. 1-3 rb mood boards by @iamasaddie

night air gif by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

raider/sweet pea collage by milla

sweet pea's pup by @dark-scape

want it that bad gif by @dark-scape

Bodies gif by not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

👱‍♂️carter mood board by milla-frenchy

Then and now drawing by @romana-after-dark

Raider/sweet pea drawings by @lumoverheaven

our stars moodboard by milla

raiding edits by gasolinerainbowpuddles

under the anger by iamasaddie

🎥 Trailer (video) by @carminepoison

birthday sketch by @lumoverheaven

In love w raider by @milla-frenchy

✨ checks that you're ok 🐺 by milla

If I've left yours off please lmk I prob tagged improperly

Back to Joel Masterlist

Fic recs: other raiders

🖤 If mine or another writer's work has inspired yours, it's always better late than never to share / shout-out 🖤

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Fifteen

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: Stalking

Mafia AU

1.4K

Warnings: Smut, p in v

Series Masterlist

A guy had never asked her to move in with him before. She hadn't spent much time imagining how it would go, but she had some sort of idea.

A guy getting down onto one knee and presenting her with a key. A guy asking her after a good bit of sex. Asking over dinner, asking as they just watched a movie. Simple things like that.

She didn't imagine it like this. Didn't imagine standing by the front door of her apartment, her boyfriend looking through the peephole with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. He held her against his chest as his other hand reached for his gun.

They were silent, waiting. All the time that Lando looked through the peephole she knew that the stalker was still there, was still watching them.

Tears ran down her cheeks. She gripped his white shirt, the shirt that he wore beneath his suit, and cried.

But then Lando let go of his gun and wrapped his other arm around her. "Baby," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "It's okay. He's gone."

"He followed me from the shop, Lan," she whispered, head against his chest.

He kept his nose against the top of her head and breathed in. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, his own eyes falling closed. It was his fault. His fault that she was getting followed home. If he'd just left her alone that night at his club, she'd be safe.

"Move in with me," he said suddenly. "My house is safe. I've got a new security system set up. It's, uhm..." He squeezed her as he searched for the words.

She wiped her tears away from her cheeks. "Impenetrable?" She suggested as she looked up at that.

Lando scrunched his nose up as he looked down at her. "Yeah, that," he said and kissed her.

He stayed by the door while she packed a bag. His eyes were on the window, gun at the ready, or he was looking through the peephole.

Emerging from the bedroom, she walked over with her bag on her shoulder. "Is that everything you need?" He asked as he took the bag from her.

She looked around her apartment, lip pulled between her teeth. Breathing deep, she nodded. "I can move out of here when I'm not being stalked," she mumbled and took his hand.

Lando held her hand. He had his gun out as he led her down the halls. The entire time they were walking down the hall, she squeezed his hand tight. But Lando didn't much care. He squeezed her back the entire way to her car.

Throwing her bag into the back, Lando drove. The car was silent, and she looked around everywhere like a startled deer. "I've got you," he said quietly, hand coming to settle on her thigh. She clamped her legs together but it wasn't sexual. No, it was just to keep him there. The way his thumb moved was so soothing, but it did little to calm her.

She hardly recognised the area Lando was driving through. She may have lived there for her entire life, but she didn't know this area in the slightest. And then they came to the grand manor house, surrounded by high gates.

They drove up to the gates and Lando pulled his hand from between her thighs. He punched the number into the keypad and the gate swung open. Lando drove through.

God, he didn't think he'd be back here so soon. As he drove towards the house, towards the garage, he couldn't stop himself from wishing for just five more minutes in the save haven of her apartment. But it wasn't a safe haven anymore, was it?

Lando parked in the garage. Her car amongst his expensive and beautiful collection looked ridiculous, but she didn't notice it as Lando grabbed her bag from the back of the car, took her hand, and led her to the house.

The house. It was beautiful, but she couldn't take that in, either. Every little noise had her jumpy. With his arm around her, Lando took her straight through to his bedroom.

Lando's bedroom was not the bedroom of a man. It was the same bedroom that he'd had since he was a teenager, with posters of actresses and race cars all over his bedroom. It was so cute and somehow comforting. It was cute. It was Lando.

"Sorry," he said and pulled at the bottom of one of his race car posters, pulling it away from the wall. "I meant to take these down but everything got a bit..."

She grabbed one of his pillows and squeezed it against her chest. "Leave it," she mumbled as she touched his duvet. It needed a wash, not desperately, but she knew that the smell was going to comforting.

Lando stepped away from his posters. He sat beside her, pulled the pillow away from her chest and took her trembling hands. "You're okay, baby," he said, thumb moving over the back of her hand. "You're safe here. 'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

She looked to the shut door and back at Lando. And then she was on him, pushing him down onto his back as she climbed on top of him, straddling him. "Help me take my mind off of it?" She asked as she pulled her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor.

Lando's hands grabbed her hips and squeezed. "Are you sure, baby?" He asked as her hips slowly began moving.

Instead of answering, she leaned forward, hands on his chest as she kissed him. Lando kissed her back. He moved his hands from her hips, cradling her against him.

But then his hands travelled down. Down over her shoulders, down to her bra strap. He fiddled with it until it gave and let his hands travel further, down her back and into her trousers. His hands settled over her ass as she opened the buttons on his white shirt.

The minute she got her hands against her skin, she dragged her nails down his chest. A groan left his lips and she pulled away from him, sitting up straight. Lando sat up with her and she pushed his suit jacket and shirt from his shoulders.

"Wanna mark you up," she whispered as she leaned forward again, pressing her lips against his neck.

She had the leader of the Norris family beneath her as she sucked dark purple marks all over his neck and shoulders. Moans and gasps and whines left his lips as she worked him, hips moving.

Even as her hips moved, Lando popped the button on her trousers and pushed his hand beneath the fabric. "Fuck!" She gasped as he felt through her folds. But her lips quickly returned to the purple bruise on his shoulder.

"I got you, baby," he whispered and pushed her trousers down with her underwear. "Need you bad."

She pulled away from his shoulder and sat back, admiring her work. "You look so pretty," she whispered and ran her nails down his chest again.

It didn't take long before Lando was naked beneath her. She held him still as she sank down onto him. A sigh left her lips and she threw her head back, eyes shutting. "Fuuuuuck, I love you," she whispered and looked down at him.

"I love you," he replied and look her hands in his own.

Lando held her hands in his own as she rode him. It was was slow and sweet, every movement sending sparks up their spines. They didn't speak outside of their 'I love you's', moans and whines filling the bedroom.

Lando's bedroom.

No, their bedroom.

Lando touch her, his hand on her clit as he tried to ensure that she came before he did. She pitched forward, whines high pitched as Lando pushed her over the edge.

He came not long after her. As soon as she had finished she stilled, energy drained. But Lando held her, moved her body on top of her as he spilled inside of her.

He didn't pull out right away, kept her held against his chest, cock still inside of her. "'m gonna protect you," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. She looked up, slowly blinked and moved her lips towards her own.

Permanent taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool

@rewmuslupin

@prettiest-at-the-party

@hellowgoodbye

@minseok-smaus

@formulaal

@darleneslane

@hiireadstuff

@urfavnoirette

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@andydrysdalerogers

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@llando4norris

@evlkking

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@hollie911

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Series Taglist (CLOSED): @millinorrizz

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@lifelessfan

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@ladymarvel27

[anyarose011]

Agape

Pairing: Lucius x Reader

Summary: After the Roman Empire had fallen, birthing the Republic, you and Lucius had finally found a moment to breathe in each other's presence. Over a few years' journey of healing, you find that is both exhausting, yet all the more fulfilling at the same time.

Part 2 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past SA, Depictions of Grief, Violence, Angst, Miscommunication, Historical Inaccuracies [I tried my best to make it kind of accurate], Nudity (sexual and non-sexual), Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex (f receiving), P in V Sex

Paul Mescal's facial hair in All of Us Strangers, if you can hear us, please save us. Nobody ask me how I went from "’Oh, I’m just gonna write some scenes about healing from trauma, and the rest is smut! Easy!" to then making it just a little longer than the first part. I'm a yapper, but holy shit XD. Anyway, this is just shameless pRopAgAnDa at what I personally view a husband to act like (even in modern times). So, without further ado, thousands of words of hurt/comfort and smut.

Word Count: 16.4k

You were a lucky child. When you were twelve and your friend was married off to a man who was forty-two, you asked your father when you would be married.

He tucked you in that night, saying that he wasn’t certain, and that you had nothing to fear; for he wouldn’t promise you to a man who was in a war the same year you were born. He would have to know him personally as well, saying.

“It’s easier to like a man than have to plan his assassination if he dared lay a hand on you.”

You like to think he would have approved of Lucius; he was the once heir to the Roman Empire.

You don’t think he would have approved of your…informal marriage.

“A year.” Lucius stated as the two of you sat together in one of the piazzas. “As long as we are not separated from each other for more than three days, Rome will view us as married if we live in the same household for a year.”

You hummed. “And why should we care what Rome views?”

“Men won’t stop their advances on you if they saw you as my sister.” he explained. “Even as a wife, that doesn’t stir them.”

“It’s a very Christian belief of you to have.”

“But it makes them think thoroughly on if they want to risk tainting you.” Lucius finally looked at you. “Knowing that I would break every finger they touched you with.”

Even with his proclamation, you merely shrugged. “Being the emperor’s favorite whore, I doubt they would care.”

He sighed. “Do you want to know what my mother wrote? Her final words that will forever be with me because they are in ink? ‘Take her as your wife.’”

It had only been one day since Lucilla’s death, since Rome had become a Republic, and no one knew exactly what to do.

Yet…even at the mention of her presence, you felt tears spring to your eyes.

How you hated crying; and crying and crying.

“It is wise.” You finally settled on. “The people here too must see me as a traitor.”

“You would be dead if they did.”

“It’s still early.” You smiled sadly. “I desired to be free of the emperors, but all they must have saw was lust for power.”

Lucius sighed. “If it is a concern, then I believe it is best to leave Rome.”

Suddenly, you were no longer afraid for your life. You scowled. “Leave the city you risked your life to liberate?”

“It is not just my own life I need to think of now, is it?”

“Then think of mine.” you began. “I don’t wish to leave. Where would we even go? I know nothing outside of Rome.”

This would have been solved if you somehow still had the house you grew up in. The moment Geta claimed you, it was gone. Even with the fall of the Empire, and the birth of the Republic, you could not take it back.

Among many other things, you could not take it back.

“We’ll live just outside the walls.” Lucius suggested. “A farm perhaps a few miles from here-.”

“-A farm?” You questioned. “You know how to farm? Because I sure don’t.”

“I’ve lived longer on a farm than I have in a palace.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. You also weren’t in the position to bargain. Even though it wasn’t going to be what most would deem an ‘official’ marriage, he still owned you. That was how it always was, whether living outside of the Roman walls or not. Still, you had to try.

“I will learn as much as I need to,” You shook your head. “but I will find a job in the city. You cannot believe I will be shut out-.”

“-Do you want to share a room, or would you like your own?”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

Lucius restated. “We don’t have any money to buy a farm, so I’ll build us one. Do you want your own room?”

You had only known him for a grand total of a day and a half (if you were to add up all the previous times you had spoken to him before Macrinus’ death), so needless to say, his offer shocked you; more so, it impressed you.

“Isn’t it odd for a man and wife to not share a bed?” You asked.

“So, you want to share a room?”

“No.” was your immediate response. “I just…”

Am not used to compromising with men without them threatening my life.

“Won’t it cost money to build a house?” You asked instead. “None the less, more for another room?”

“I only want you to be happy, if we’re to be married.”

There you were, asking every question and not being satisfied with his answers, yet he was remaining patient.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head in thanks for just a second before questioning. “I am still allowed to have a job in the city? It will help with the cost, of course.”

 “Where exactly do you intend to work?”

He said your name; not ‘Julia’, the name you had whispered to him in his cell. Lucius was the only one who had said it to you, for you did not even tell Lucilla or Marcus. It still felt strange hearing it on your lips, nonetheless, his.

Still, shaking your discomfort away, you hummed humorlessly. “I know two women who run their own businesses; hairdressing and tailoring. I’m better at hair than clothes, but not so much. And you?”

He sighed. “I’ll see if there’s any other farmers needing a hand.”

“You’re going to work for a farmer to build a farm?”

“It sounded more bizarre in your head than when you said it aloud, did it not?”

That was the first thing you found out about Lucius after all the bloodshed and heartbreak of the last week:

He spoke with such a straight tone, you did not know he was joking until he would smile just a hint; you couldn’t really call it a true smile.

You managed to grin. “I suppose it makes sense. You should find one that will let us sleep there.”

And he did. A farm just a few miles outside of Rome took both you and Lucius in. It was substantial, housing five chickens, two cows, three pigs, four horses, and seven human children. Albeit the children helped with the chores, but the eldest was only ten and could not manage any of the heavy lifting whatsoever, which was where Lucius came in.

From sun up to sun down, he’d work on the farm. The farmers, Atticus and Diana, let you sleep in the barn of all places. The hayloft was nice for the both of you; enough space to spread out but not be right next to each other. There was also somewhat of a wall between the two of you, giving the illusion of separate rooms.

It was certainly an adjustment for you; had been sleeping on the softest of beds for months, but even so, you just missed the bed from your old house.

Lucius fell asleep the second he laid on the hay.

Dreams and nightmares were always a peculiar thing. Some days, you would dream of your mother and father, some days, they would be of Lucilla and Marcus.

You had nightmares of what befell you before coming to the farm; Macrinus and his manipulation, Caracalla’s temper, Geta…

Yet, the worst that would happen would be you waking up more tired than the night prior. You knew Lucius was having nightmares too, but every time you approached him, he would lie and say he was fine, or simply not want to speak of it.

You stopped asking.

For the first few days on the farm, you were put to work by watching over the younger children when their mother was busy. Somehow, it was the older ones you didn’t mind, it was the youngest baby who was a handful.

It’s morbid to say, but you always wondered how any of them survived infancy.

Luckily, you managed to get back to Rome after perhaps a week of being stranded on the farm. It was almost an hour walk, and you had gotten up even before Lucius had, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t that you felt dead as you were on the farm per say, but walking through the streets brought a certain kind of life back into your steps.

You spent a good portion of the day trying to find the hairdressers you talk to Lucius about. Just as you were about to give up and try again tomorrow, something caught your ear.

Hebrew.

You turned over your shoulder and saw a man speaking in Latin to another man and a pregnant woman. The father had spoken in broken Latin before turning to his wife, speaking quickly in Hebrew as if to ask her what to say.

One of the men began to yell, and you rushed over, speaking to the patriarch of the family.

“What’s going on?” You asked quickly.

His eyes grew as if you were the first person in Rome to understand him (you probably were). “I paid for a bag of peaches fairly; two bronze, yet they’re saying it wasn’t enough.”

You turned to the men behind you. “He says he gave you two bronze for the peaches.”

“It was three.” The Roman man gritted his teeth.

Tilting your head, you tried. “Show me your stand so we may see.”

It was perhaps stupid of you to challenge him; yet, he controlled his tempter and led you to his fruit stand. The sign by the peaches indeed said ‘2’, but there was also a good amount of peaches blocking the bottom half of the sign.

When you moved a few, it read ‘3’.

You smiled, looking at the man who spoke Hebrew. “It is three, but it’s not your fault this brute didn’t notice either.”

He nodded, returning your grin before handing the men another copper. With an few mumbled exchanges, the man and his wife were on their way.

“You have Judeans in your family?” The man crudely asked.

Still, you decided to reciprocate his crassness with kindness. “I actually speak five languages.”

He rose his brows. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

He hummed, holding his hand out. “Isidorus.”

“Julia.” Was your immediate response as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles. It wasn’t even your own choice to say that name; it was what you lived by. Retracting your hand, you shake your head and said your own name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“-All of Rome knows who you are.” He interrupted. “Do not be afraid of your own people. Most of them were there simply a week ago when you tried to slay Macrinus but was there to comfort lady Lucilla in her final moments.”

You only nodded, not wanting to be praised. “I thank you for your kindness.”

“With certain.” He nodded. “You are with child; only a monster would harm a woman carrying.”

The events of the past weeks had made you forgotten about the false babe. Luckily, the fear upon your face could be used to your advantage.

“Are you not well?” Isidorus questioned.

You dropped your gaze, stammering your tone. “The…I lost the child.”

He looked down as well. “Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you shook your head. “it’s…it feels odd. His father was terrible but…”

“Why are you perusing Rome unchaperoned?” He changed the subject.

 “My betrothed is being put to work,” you immediately answered. “and I am scouring the streets to find my own.”

“What has your luck been?”

“Nothing.”

Isidorus hummed. “I could change that.”

Even at the thought of what he was alluding to, you smiled. “Good sir, I am not in the position to sell my body-.”

“-None of that.” he waved his hand. “My brother works down at the entrance of the city gates. They’re always in need of translators.”

You nodded, considering. “When may I meet with him?”

“Tomorrow?” He asked. “Midday at the gates with many people watching so you do not feel threatened?”

The two of you laughed, and you agreed. “I shall be there. Thank you.”

“Anything to help a woman of the people.”

You walked all the way back to the farm with a skip in your step. Even at dinner, you were more talkative with the rest of the family. Lucius certainly took notice as the two of you were settling down for the night.

“You seemed better today.” He complimented, laying onto his bed of hay.

“So, I’ve been absolutely horrible the rest?” You teased, peeking around the wall of the hayloft.

 “No, just what I think you were like before everything; more yourself.” He explained. “Did the hairdressers go well?”

Leaning against the wall, you crossed your arms. “I’m actually working as a translator down by the city entrance.”

He gave you a look. “How’d this come about?”

“Well,” you began. “I overheard two men arguing, one was speaking Hebrew, and I asked him what was wrong. There was a misunderstanding over peaches of all things, I helped them talk it out, and it was solved with no bloodshed. The vendor said his brother works at the gates and is always in need of translators and offered to meet with him tomorrow. It will be midday and so many people around; do not worry.”

Lucius nodded. “I’ll accompany you.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? I shall be fine.”

“I have no doubt you would.” You knew that was a lie. “One of the scythes broke today, I’ll need to buy another one in the city.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not, but it wouldn’t surprise you if Lucius would sneak out in the night and break equipment simply to go with you.

Sighing, you went behind the wall to your side of the hayloft. “Fine.”

To no one but Lucius’ surprise, Isidorus had not lied about his brother, nor the job offer. Of course, the brother had been off put at a woman being the translator (because everyone knows that they are the lesser sex). Still, after some convincing (you talked to a Greek family, a man from Anatolia, and two brothers from Persia), he said you could be put to work.

Lucius stood there the whole hour you had proved yourself.

“You couldn’t have gotten the scythe while I worked?” You questioned him while walking home.

He kept his gaze on the road before him, carrying the farm equipment. “It was engaging to watch.”

You hummed. “I could see how engaged you were while you stood like this.” You crossed your arms and scowled.

“I did not look like that.” He scoffed.

“You did so!” You refuted, lowering your voice. “My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, the Last Gladiator, son of Lucilla and Maximus, grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

He looked down, mouth upturning a little. “I do not sound like that.”

“Is that a smile?!” you gasped. “Gods above, I never thought you could unless you were attempting humor!

“Away with you, woman.”

You only laughed as the sun was starting to set.

There was something called a “Fullmoon” period in a marriage. Most now would say it’s “Honeymoon”, but the period in time where a man and woman were in a complete state of euphoria together was called “Fullmoon” because it only lasted for a month.

You and Lucius (even with your strange circumstance) were not immune to this.

A month later, when you had fully settled into a mundane life of working in different areas for hours upon hours, the only times you saw Lucius was when you ate dinner with the farmer’s family, and before going to bed.

It didn’t’ effect you that much for the first three months, as you both were still on good terms and were fine simply cohabitating without affection. This marriage was purely for protection and to honor Lucilla’s wishes.

Then…Lucius came to you one day, saying that together, you both had enough money to build a farm. He already had a patch of land picked out from the help of the famer who employed him. It was five miles away from the farm you stayed at. Five miles more of a journey to the city.

You would move in once the walls were built, which he said would only take a week or two.

It was too fast for you.

Still, you had to go along with it, because you were to be his wife; nothing more. Even so, nothing out of the ordinary besides your hidden, simmering annoyance happened between you two.

The first day construction was to be done was when light was shed upon it.

“Lucius!” You called his name as you approached him and a few other men hauling the wood and stone that would be used. It was mid-twilight when you ran to them.

He furrowed his brow, walking towards you. “Aren’t you meant to be in the city?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shook your head. “I asked for the day off because of the house. He said I-.”

“-You need to go back and tell him you’ll work.”

Your smile fell from his usual, monotone demeanor. “He doesn’t expect me to come in today-.”

“-Then he’ll be happy to see you.”

“May I just talk for a moment?!” You yelled.

His said nothing.

Sighing, you began. “I will be useful in any capacity. If you need me to help dig for water, measure supports, lift anything-.”

“-Your shoulder cannot carry-.”

You retorted. “-It might be the shoulder you shot, but it’s the shoulder I have to live with, and I will tell you if something is too heavy to carry.”

It hadn’t been the first time you brought up your shoulder after Rome was free. Yet, in the past, it was always out of good fun; something to say to him when you didn’t want to carry as little as an egg from the chicken coop. You told the children the story too why you had to set one of them down after carrying her for so long.

You expected them to cower away from Lucius when he returned for supper, but instead, they all tackled him to the ground to defend your honor.

They didn’t hurt him of course, and you laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

Yet, at that moment, you said it with nothing but disdain; and he heard it in every word. You thought it would have been enough to guilt him into letting you help, you made sure of it.

Lucius titled his head back toward the main road. “Go on, now. The sun will be up soon, it’ll be better to walk without daylight beating down on you.”

The audacity he had. Usually, on the times you’d have disagreements of sorts, you’d try to leave with dignity; perhaps a word of sarcasm or two.

No, you simply turned on your heel and marched away in a huff.

You were harsher that day when translating, and you were still angry by the time the day ended. You ate dinner outside by yourself (until three of the seven children came outside to eat with you), and did not utter a ‘goodnight’ to Lucius before laying down to sleep.

Neither of you spoke to the other for days after that.

It was one morning, not even when the sun was out, as you tried to tiptoe around him, did he ask from his makeshift bed.

“Do you remember where the house is?”

You nearly fell off the ledge of the hayloft. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes!” you whispered, afraid to wake the whole farm. “Why?”

“We made the water pump, and the walls and floors are finished. We’ll be able to sleep there now.”

“I don’t see the appeal in sleeping in a house with no roof.”

“I’ll put half of it on today. Tell your foreman too that you won’t be able to work for the next week.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“I’m teaching you how to tend to a farm.” He wrapped his blankets tighter around him and turned his back to you.

And you continued on your way; making the long trek to the city, which would only be longer when you moved to the house.

When your work was over, you walked and walked. You took a short break at the farmer’s house, making your final goodbyes to the children, and gathering what little belongings you owned.

As you tried to leave, Diana stopped you. She was leading one of the horses, a berber, behind her.

“Take her,” she handed you the reins. “you shouldn’t have to walk so far.”

You shook your head. “I simply cannot-.”

“-I insist.” She smiled. “She’s yours now. Think of it as payment for helping me with the little beasts that are my children.”

Smiling politely, it soon faded. She took notice. “What is it?”

“…I’ve only ever ridden once, and I was a child.”

She sighed yet was still kind. “Come on, my husband’s horse is at your farm. I’ll ride back with him.”

Despite your inexperience, it was actually nice riding a horse. It was perhaps the closest you could ever come to flying in your lifetime; maybe that’s why you enjoyed it. As you were nearing your soon-to-be home, you saw a familiar silhouette along with some others.

Atop the house, against the setting sun, you watched as Lucius continued to add tiles to the unfinished roof. His shirt was off, and even with night beginning to set in with the cold air, he was still breaking a sweat from the rigorous work. You would be a liar if you say that you didn’t catch yourself staring, and it was Diana who had to take the reins.

“What a fine home!” She broke you out of your trance, and when Lucius looked in your direction, you snapped your gaze away.

Lucius nodded. “All that needs to be done is the roof.” He jumped onto the ground just as you were sliding off the horse. He gave you his hand as you were, and you took it.

“Thank you.”

Atticus and the other workers went to a lone tree where their horses were tied. Atticus then approached both you and Lucius.

“Well,” he smiled. “it was lovely hosting the both of you. Please come back as often as you can; I’m sure the children will miss you.”

You all exchanged your final goodbyes, and it when everyone rode off away from you, did you realize something. This was the first time in a while you were alone with Lucius that wasn’t when going to sleep or waking up.

“Do you have a name for the horse?” Lucius asked.

Turning over your shoulder, you led the steed to the tree, petting her as you began to tie her up. “Not at the moment. She’s yours too, do you have any?”

“You’ll be with her more; you should name her.”

Humming you looked at him when you finished securing the horse. “You asked them to give her to me, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “They asked how they could repay you for taking care of their children, I mentioned how it would be a longer journey to the city once we moved here. That’s all I did.”

…He was better at asking for forgiveness than for permission; that was another thing you learned about him. Still, you nodded your appreciation, inspecting the area around you. It was quite beautiful even with its plainness. The fields stretched on for miles, and there were no tall buildings to cover the night sky. Even the unfinished house brought a sense of happiness to you.

Something that was, at least partially, your own.

“Where will the barn and chicken coop go?” You questioned.

A hint of a smile played on his mouth, but in Lucius fashion, did his best to hide it. “You were complaining about not having a roof, and now you wonder about things for the animals?”

“Perhaps I’m more interested in farming that you are.”

“I’ll teach you.” he led you into the house. “Come on.”

 The front living space was large, and in the corner of it had an oven, so that was where the kitchen would be. Lucius showed you the two rooms as well; each having a single pillow and a blanket.

“We’ll begin planting tomorrow.” he announced. “I don’t think I’ll have to wake you up.”

“You won’t.” You nodded. “Goodnight, Lucius.”

“Goodnight.” He said your name.

You didn’t think you’d ever get over the sound of your own name from his lips.

You named the horse after your mother. Well…not the exact same name, but a similar one. It was quite a scene too when confessing to Lucius you could exactly remember how to ride a horse by yourself.

He didn’t laugh at you, that was what greatly surprised you. He spent an hour teaching you, and you were able to ride her on your own.

Farming was more difficult than you thought it would be, but not so horrible either. Yes, where Lucius was patient with you for the first few days, he made a few snide comments as time passed. Nothing outright mean, but still enough to get under your skin.

Still, you managed to pick it up within the few weeks after that.

He had even let you help him finish the roof of the house; something you didn’t expect him to do. After living in the house for a month, both of you managed to buy actual beds for your rooms, among other luxuries like a few tables and chairs for the main living area, and utensils both for cooking and for eating.

The bathroom was completely bare. Having spent all the money on everything else, it would take time for the both of you to buy a bathtub. Bathing wasn’t a problem back on Atticus and Diana’s farm, but now being away from them, you would be forced to rely on the public baths in the city…

Even with some bathhouses having baths only for women, that did not stop men from forcing their way into them.

You didn’t mind being dirty for weeks on end.

The two of you fell into another pattern of life; you going into the city and spending hours translating foreign dialogue, and Lucius working on the farm for most days, sometimes accompanying you.

There was…something else strange as well.

It was always a coin toss on what weeks Lucius would speak to you or not.

Yes, he was always a man of few words, but this was different. There were some days when you asked him about his day, he would tell you what boring tasks he did. Than, on others, it was just one word: “Good.”

Never “Bad”, never “Just okay”; only “Good”. Even when you knew it wasn’t, that’s all he would say.

And you could endure it.

It had already been a little over half a year since the two of you started living together. In the eyes of Rome (as mere Plebians), you would be married once a year passed.

This was perhaps the best marriage you could as for as a Roman woman. Still…every day that Lucius would not speak to you only brought more dread upon your shoulders.

When he stopped even looking at you, that was when you went to Diana one day.

“It’s so lovely to see you.” She smiled, setting down two cups of wine and sitting. “It’s felt like ages!”

With her youngest baby on your lap, you chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “You honestly didn’t need to get the wine out.”

“Nonsense!” She waved her hand. “It’s a celebration just to be in your presence. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

“How’s the farm? Lucius?”

“Well,” you took another sip, setting your cup down. “the farm has been alright. I know at least how to properly water crops and know when they’re ready to harvest or not. I help Lucius sometimes, but…he likes things his own way. He was a farmer too, I understand.”

She hummed. “And as a betrothed? I hope having your own home would help; to me, you two treated each other more like acquaintances than anything else.”

All you could do was avoid eye contact and bounce the giggling baby on your knee.

“Ah.” She sighed. “So not much has changed?”

“We both talk more than we had at your far, but somehow, less at the same time.” You explained.

Diana reached over and held your hand, asking softly. “When was the last time you were intimate?”

As if she were a man, you tore your hand from hers. “What?”

“I do not wish anything to be forced upon you,” she stated first. “especially with what has happened to you. But…it is still important, especially to your future marriage.”

“We…we haven’t done anything in…months.” You were not going to tell her you hadn’t even seen him naked. You were not going to tell her you hadn’t done you “duty” as a woman.

She nodded. “There must be something plaguing his mind terribly.”

“I know that!” You cried. “He just won’t tell me.”

“Men do not like talking,” Diana sighed. “I have been married to Atticus for fifteen years, and even after ten children, there are parts of his past I still do not know of. What Lucius frets over is important though. You must dig your heels into the ground and let him know you are not doing anything until he tells you what he has issue with.”

The baby on your lap cooed as you held her, reaching for parts of your clothing. Diana took her from you once the baby started fussing, and you offered her a grateful smile.

“I’ll try my best with him.”

She squeezed your shoulder. “He will come to his senses. If not, then he truly hit his head too hard in the Colosseum.”

Except, you couldn’t confront him when you got home. Even though the sun was only beginning to set, when you arrived, the house was silent. You peeked into his bedroom and saw that he was already fast asleep.

With a sigh, you finished your nightly activities, and when the sun went down, you were in your own bed.

The nightmare was unlike any you had before.

Hands from all around you reached out to you. Some grabbed clumps of your hair, stuck their fingers into your mouth, caressed the most intimate parts of your body, or even tear your skin off.

You blinked and then you were in the palace, surrounded by cloaked figures. Someone forced you onto your back, and you looked up and saw Geta, raising a knife high above his head before diving it into your stomach. He carved it out before digging his hands into the opening he made and pulled out your womb.

After sitting up in bed, you had thought you awoken. When you opened your bedroom door, you were welcomed to a field of reeds, seeing nothing for miles. All but a silhouette in the distance. You could not make out it to be a man or a woman; all you knew was that you needed to run to them.

Yet, even as you dashed through the fields, calling out a name you do not even remember, your feet sank into the ground with each step.

The earth swallowed you whole before you could even reach them.

You didn’t awake with a scream; you didn’t even awake with a cry. You did awake in a sweat. Sitting up, you slowly pulled the blanket away from your body. Your stomach was unwounded, and nothing had happened.

Without knowing why, you rose from your bed and slipped on your sandals. Not even putting on a robe, you walked out of the house into the cold, night air. Numbly, you treaded through the tall grass away from the house and stopped.

The stars above you watched as you fell to your knees, and the past finally had the last laugh.

You wept for your mother (whose touch you never felt).

You wept for your father (who you had to take care of the same way he took care of you).

You wept for Marcus (the first man outside of your father to ever see you as a person).

You wept for Lucilla (the woman who saved you in more ways than one).

You wept for the innocence you lost to the twin emperors (and how you mercilessly killed them).

You wept and wept, until you felt bile claw its way up your throat and out of your mouth.

The tears did not stop even after you were finished.

Two hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you tried to tear yourself away with a sharp cry. You were turned around, and even though your tears blinded you, you could see that it was Lucius.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes grown.

You couldn’t speak clearly, only shaking your head and saying ‘No’ over and over. Lucius led you to the water pump and sat you down by it. Cranking the handle until the water flowed freely, he cupped his hand to catch some of it before gently washing your face.

The cool water grounded you, and your sobs began to slow. Once you were only left with shallow breathing and a stuffed nose, Lucius finally sat beside you.

“What happened?” He asked again, although, returning to his normal, straight-toned self.

“Bad dream.” Was all you said.

He said nothing at first. Then, looking down at the grass beneath him, he said. “Would talking about it help you?”

It was meant to be a helpful question, but it only angered you. “You ask that now? After I run out into the night screaming?”

Lucius squinted his eyes. “Why does that bother you?”

“I know you have nightmares too.” You scoffed. “I have asked you dozens of times if you wish to talk to me about them, and you have always said no. You’ve never once asked me about mine, so how dare you expect me to tell you about it now when you cannot even share yours with me!”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head.

You stood up, walking back to the house. “You’re right, it isn’t fair.”

He jumped to his feet. “You can’t walk away without telling me why this is troubling you.”

“You first.”

“What?”

You turned to face him. “We are to be married in less than a year, at least ‘In the eyes of Rome’ as you say, yet you do not even look at me anymore!”

His shoulders fell, and he shook his head. “I am looking at you-.”

“-I ask you how you are these days, and you lie to me every time.” You interrupted. “The few instances you allow me to work beside you, you criticize every little thing I do. I understand that I am the farthest thing you wanted for as a wife-.”

 It was that word that struck a chord. Despite saying it every so often those past few months…it was only then it occurred to you that where Lucius was your first husband…you were not his first wife.

He tore his gaze away from yours, as if he knew you had figured it out. You sighed. “Gods above…I’m sorry for what has happened to her, and I will never know the loss of a love like that…but I cannot be viewed as her replacement-.”

“-Who told you that you were?” He sharpened his tone.

You swallowed, knowing that this would all end in tears no matter what you said. “You do not tell me anything. I will never ask you to care for me the way you cared for her, but she is gone-.”

“-I couldn’t do anything after she died but weep and watch her body float into the ocean.” He hissed. “I vowed to kill the man that slaughtered her, and I didn’t. It had been perhaps just a month since her death, did I promise myself to another woman. I have dishonored her memory three times.”

“I do not know how long you need me to apologize for something I could not control, but I will if that means you will stop hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You hate that I will be your wife!” Your voice was growing hoarse. “I don’t understand it at all. I will be whatever it is you wish me to be in few months’ time, because you will own me. Even if you wish me to be dead, it shall be done because what I want will not matter-.”

“-Must you make everything about yourself?!” He finally yelled. “Would it soothe you if I said I despised every part of you? That if Jupiter himself came down and offered me my old life in exchange for you, I would give you up to him?! Would it give you any peace of mind if I told you I would have rather died in the arena than live a thousand years with you?”

You had expected him to at least pause after he made his confession. To at least have the courage to look you in the eye and watch as the words sunk into your being. Yet, as soon as he finished, he stomped back to the house; and you were alone outside again.

The tears upon your face glimmered from the light in the sky above you, for all you could do was stare at the little farmhouse Lucius had built for you.

How strange that something you once saw as a sign of devotion, was now revealed to be one of complicity.

He had admitted his disdain for your future marriage. You knew that it would be loveless (you would never escape that), but you wished at least for respect. Seeing as how you were not even going to have that, you dragged your feet over to the tree where your horse was tied up.  Mounting her with nothing but the clothes on your back, you raced down the pathway.

For the first day, you had stayed at Diana and Atticus’ farm. You said nothing about Lucius, and tried to spend the most time with the children to avoid any questions.

On the second day, you finally went back to the city. Even though the man in charge of you yelled louder than Lucius had at you, it did not phase you. You merely nodded and returned to work. With what money they paid you for the day, you spent it on a room at the safest inn you could find. You had another nightmare that night. Not as horrible as the one two days prior, but awful enough for you to lay awake until the sun rose.

The third day seemed to be ordinary, until you finished your job, and you were promenading along the market. As you eyed the fruit at Isidorus’ stand, a man came to stand beside you.

“Good sir,” you heard Lucius’ voice. “do you have a wife?”

Isidorus nodded. “I do.”

“What from your stand would you give her if she was angry at you?”

He eyed you before smiling at Lucius. “My ears to listen.”

You turned, promptly walking away. Of course, Lucius followed.

“I didn’t know you confided into strangers about our qualms.”

“He’s not a stranger.” you kept trying to lose him. “And gifts will not suffice for an apology this time.”

He got in front of you, uttering your name. You stopped, sighing. “What else have you come to say to me?”

“That I am a fool.”

Although you weren’t necessarily expecting him to admit it, you only nodded. “You very much are.”

He began. “For my entire life, I was not allowed to be entirely truthful with others. Whether it was how I felt in the moment, or even my own name. I’m not used to the freedom of being candid with one another. And I have been mistreating you; I have provided a home, but I haven’t provided your wellbeing. Ari-.” Lucius paused, breathing through his nose. “Arishat and I lived on a farm, that was all I knew while being a husband. I will love her until the end of my days, but that does not give me the right to neglect you. I will…I will try with all my being to share my thoughts with you.”

You stared at him, feeling as if you would blink, and you would awaken from another dream. Yet once you did and saw that he was still in front of you, you said.

“I didn’t mean to insult your memory of her.”

He shook his head. “I believe she would hit me if she were here and saw how I treated you.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “Truly, for everything. I…it’s not only you, I don’t know if I will ever feel like myself after…everything.”

Lucius already knew. Still, looking around himself, he then said. “Where is your horse?”

“The inn I’ve been staying at has a stable. You walked the whole way here?”

“It’s what I deserved.”

“You smell horrible.” You mustered a shy grin.

He mirrored you, looking away. “I have for a while.”

“I do as well. I was…I was going to brave the baths; would you like to join me?”

Your offer took him by surprise. Usually, a question like that would be an invitation to more salacious activities to take place. Still, what took him aback more was how you were initially so afraid of the public baths, yet there you were.

“I shall.” He agreed.

Thus, the two of you walked beside one another. There were many baths in Rome, yet it would be challenging to find one that had a separate bath for women and one for men. By the time you reached the third bathhouse, you sighed.

“This will do.”

Lucius shook his head. “I’ll ask the workers at this one if they know-.”

“-No.” You stopped him. “It’s fine. I wish to speak more with you.”

He was still hesitant, but gave in. The two of you entered and drifted off to the separate changing rooms. It was strange that the bathhouse had rooms for the different sex to disrobe, but not baths itself.

After locking your clothes away, you ventured out into the main pool. You were welcomed to an array of naked bodies. You weren’t entirely innocent of course, even before everything. You were never to see any of these people again; it was Lucius you would live with.

Quickly, you disappeared half of your body under the surface of the water and clung to the wall of the large bath. Other people around you laughed and socialized, only putting you more in the eyes of men who only came to the baths for one thing.

Yet, before you could take a moment to worry, your eyes fell to Lucius who entered. You soon averted them and felt the water shift beside you as he entered. You turned to look at him, leveling yourself with the side of the pool, essentially shoulder to shoulder with him. The hear radiating off of his body onto yours reminded you too much of that night months ago; the one where you whispered your name into his ear.

“What were you like as a boy?” You questioned in an attempt to hide how flustered you were.

He hummed. “Why do you ask?”

“If you wish to be more honest with me, than I think it should be best to stary with something minor.”

“I understand. I was spoiled growing up in the palace. Still, I wished nothing more than for adventure. All my life, the mere thought of war and battles were taught as a way to bring glory to the empire; pride for one’s family. I had gotten my foolish wish when Maximus died, and my mother sent me away from Rome.” He paused momentarily, before continuing. “I ran all across the land until I was thirteen, where I finally settled in Numidia. I had changed my named too many times to count and settled upon Hanno.”

Your attention did not waver for a moment. When he was finished you asked. “How old were you when you left?”

“Eight…” There was a sad silence between the two of you. A silence held in almost reverence for all the troubles he had been through. “What about you?”

Even with your uneasiness to answer your starkly different childhood, you did so; also have been promising to be honest with him. You spoke of your father, your past friends, the house you grew up in. He never once looked upon you with envy or hatred.

“Your father sounded like a good man.” He said.

“He was.” You nodded, feeling a weight settle in your chest. "I think he would have liked you.”

“I can only hope.”

The conversation halted after that, unknown if you should wait for him to ask a question, or for you to ask another. Both of your eyes drifted around the bath house as people filtered in and out. When your gaze fell back onto Lucius’ you watched his eyes flicker to something behind you. Before you could utter a word, he placed his hand upon your bare back, bringing his lips to the space between your ear and your jaw.

It all happened so fast you had no time to react, and your body shivered upon the feel of him being so close to you.

“There’s a man eyeing you from behind.” He whispered into your skin. “Don’t look at him, just keep looking at me. I’m sorry.”

You pulled away slightly, doing as he told. He traced circles on your back with his thumb, staring intently at you. Even as you shrunk under his eyes, they did not frighten you.

Deciding to play along, you trailed your hand up his bare arm until resting on his shoulder. You felt his skin erupt into goosebumps and he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Okay?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just…it’s been a while.”

Anyone with any sense knew that meant more than one thing. It had been a while since he felt anyone’s touch; nonetheless, a naked woman’s.

From behind him, you saw a small group of girls all looking at you. They all looked a little younger than you, and acted like so, giggling loudly and talking without a care in the world. It was only then that you noticed they were looking at Lucius.

“Is there someone eyeing me now?” He attempted to tease you when he noticed your gaze.

You nodded, no hint of humor behind your voice. “A good few of them.”

“Is that so?”

You removed your hand. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“Wouldn’t mind what?” He pinched his eyebrows together.

“…Getting your release from a woman that isn’t me.” You were puzzled by his seeming ignorance. “You’re a man, I understand-.”

He said your name with somewhat of gasp. You didn’t listen one bit.

“No, I mean it. I will not be more selfish than I already have been, expecting you to remain celibate because I don’t think I will-.”

Lucius said your name again and you stopped. Even when you did, he said it a third time as if to know he had your attention. He continued to run his fingers up and down your back.

“I will not dishonor you-.”

“-I have been dishonored several times before, it does not matter-.”

“-Listen to me.” He said softly yet firmly. “Even if I desired someone carnally, it is not selfish of you to want my loyalty. I’m not a boy who wishes to bed anything that breathes. I don’t think I can do so with someone I do not have any deep feelings for. You are my wife, and I will not treat you less.”

He didn’t call you his ‘betrothed’. As if, the moment you accepted his apology, you were already his other half. To hear him speak with so much certainty after neither of you knowing what any day would bring…it brought an astonishing comfort you never knew you needed.

“Thank you.” You felt like your heart could beat again.

“You don’t-.”

“-No but I do. I don’t…I don’t think I could give you anything of myself if you wanted it. It’s still…I remember a lot of what Geta did to me, and I forgot it at the same time. It doesn’t happen a lot in my nightmares, but it still does. That one night you found me he…he cut out my womb and held it in his hands. I thought I woke up, but I didn’t, and I think I was in Elysian Fields, but I only saw a shadow. I don’t know what any of that means.”

Lucius let you finish all of the anxiety you had thrown onto him. Still, releasing a shallow breath, he said.

“You die in most of my dreams.” He clarified. “The bad ones, I mean. A lot of people do, but you’ve been in them the most. There are times I see both you and Arishat, or my mother, or all three of you and…those are the worst. The night I found you outside, I couldn’t…I had a horrible dream that I couldn’t even see your face, but I knew it was you when I found you hanging in the Colosseum.”

If the both of you weren’t naked and, in the bathhouse, you would have embraced him. Yet, with the most understanding look in your eyes, you brought your hand to the base of his neck, his loose curls between your fingers. You swore you felt him relax into your touch for just a moment.

“I’ve known everyone to have their own beliefs of dreams.” You whispered. “They’re meant to predict the future, they reflect the past, they are punishments, they are blessings, and they mean nothing. I wonder if it’s possible they are all of them.”

He nodded. “I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

“I do.” Lucius unknowingly leaned into you just ever so slightly. You grinned from ear to ear, pulling your hand away from him. “I believe you need to cut your hair.”

He chortled. “I’m not spending anything on cutting it. It’s fine.”

“I’ll cut it then.”

“I would rather be stabbed.”

“Oh, quit being dramatic.” you playfully swatted him. “There’s a reason I would’ve been a better hairdresser than tailor.”

The two of you teased one another for a minute longer after that. Than, even though the conversation died, it was not in vain. There was a quiet gentleness and protectiveness as you both shared a short distance between each other while bathing. Lucius kept his eye on you more than you did him, knowing that it was always possible a man could try to take advantage of you.

When all was said and done, you got your horse from the stable at the inn, and the two of you rode back to the farm with a newfound understanding of each other.

More than a year and a half have passed since the fall of the Roman Empire and its subsequent birth of the Republic. Your strange marriage with Lucius grew into a friendship of respect and understanding. You both talked more than you had when you were first betrothed, even if your busy schedules remained the same.

The farm had improved after its first harvest, even raising enough money to build a chicken coop and house a few chickens. The house itself was more furnished, and the two of you managed to purchase a bathtub, no longer needing to use the public ones in the city.

Both of you had changed as well. Even with what minimal farm work you did, it built both your strength and stamina. Lucius had begun to grow out his facial hair; not much for it to be an actual beard, but more so just under his nose. You’d joke about it looking like a caterpillar, to which he would lightly shove you away.

After the intimate discussion the two of you shared, it was only then you both realized you still didn’t know much about each other. Most importantly, the little things that made each of you a person.

So, you’d take time to get to know one another.

You were helping Lucius pull weeds around the crops when you found out he had ripped a monkey’s throat out with his teeth during his very first gladiator fight.

You were reading a collection of poetry one night when Lucius told you that you mouth the words of whatever you’re reading if you find it most interesting.

During supper one night, Lucius ate the entirety of the plate only to then eat whatever else you hadn’t. That was when your theory was proven right; he does forget to eat sometimes.

Both of you had tried to keep the housework to an equal amount; if he cooked one night, you’d clean the kitchen and vice versa. Yet, some remained stagnant; you always cut his hair, yet he always changed the horses’ shoes.

Cutting his hair was perhaps your favorite way to speak with him.

“Remember to clean your sandals before coming in next time.” He reminded you as he sat on a tree trunk outside. “You tracked in mud.”

Standing behind him while trimming small hairs, you shook your head. “My apologies, master of the house; it was downpouring and I was freezing.”

“Serves you right, I’d say.”

You placed the tip of the shears against his neck. “What else do you have to say?”

He snickered. “That you’re an astonishing woman who I am blessed to have.”

“Wrong answer, all lies.” You pretended to stab him, only to bring the shears back to his hair.

“I’m not lying!” Lucius laughed.

You only gave him a ‘tsk’ before continuing. “Are you sleeping any better?”

He said nothing at first. Your eyes drifted down to his hands and saw him pull on his tunic; another telltale sign of his nervousness.

“I keep seeing my mother’s face.” He admitted. “Only her face, nothing else.”

“It was the third night last night, right?”

“Yes.”

You sighed. “Would you want to hear a dream I had a few days ago to make you feel better?”

“Better because it was happy, or because you think I’ll feel happy I wasn’t you?”

“The latter.”

“Tell me.”

You turned his head to the side gently, continuing your work. “I stood in front of the entire senate of Rome, and they were all laughing at me. I don’t even know what I said, they only laughed and laughed.”

“Is that not what happened to you in the waking day?”

“No, they listened…I think.” You shook our head. “It more so angers me that, in the waking life, I presented logic to them, and they still chose Macrinus who showed nothing of the sort.”

“Some men like to speak of only desiring logic yet run away with their emotions once it is presented.” Lucius stated. “What had you told them?”

“That all of Rome would continue to riot if they killed Lucilla.” You said grimly. “I still don’t understand; they had their proof of the rage Rome’s children could feel when their general was killed, the only reason the city did not fall was because Macrinus was slain. I’m done.”

You set your shears down and Lucius stood, shaking the fallen hair off his clothes. He turned to you.

“If it matters at all, I think the only reason this house hasn’t fallen is because of you.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shoved him playfully. “Away with you, you’re just as much of the reason as I am.”

“I do all that I can.”

There were moments like this where you would not speak of childhood memories or events of your day. These moments were reserved for the days where it felt like time slowed down just to give you two the grace to speak about them in more detail.

With only a single candle between the two of you one quiet night, you told him how you have to walk a different path in the city sometimes simply to avoid brothels; hating the sounds you would hear from inside, the stench of cheap perfume and sweating bodies burning your nose, the men who would brag to their friends about the women they had.

At breakfast one day, before the sun had even rose, Lucius told you about a time when he was ten, still on the run. He had gone into a man’s house with the promise of food, only to then be hit the head with something so heavy, he was knocked out. He had awoken in a dark room, but managed to find a curtained window, and escaped. He never knew what would have happened to him if he had woken up just a minute later.

There was tenderness you shared with him that you had never shared with anyone in your life.You sht

That was only more apparent on one fateful day.

The first bad omen for the day that morning was when you had run out of sugar for breakfast that morning. The second was when your horse was extra stubborn as you rode her into the city; it was so out of the ordinary, you wondered if you did something to make her hate you.

Still, everything was fine once you went to work. At least it was for the first half of the day.

There were aggressive people from across the land coming into the city you certainly had to deal with, but the worst was when a man twice your size bluffed you with a slap. Even so, the other men you worked with had yelled and sent her away.

That day though…there was a woman with a look in her eyes.

You thought you had seen pure rage when you had been with Geta. Yet, that day was a lesson to you; wrath had many faces.

She mumbled in Greek, but you did not know what she said at first. Then, she attempted to speak Latin. You politely told her you could speak Greek, and so with exhaustion, she told you that she was going to visit her mother.

When asked for her mother’s name, she didn’t say it. After asking again, she became enraged, yelling at you that she should just be able to be let in. When you resisted, she grabbed your bad arm, yanking it to pull you closer to her.

The pain shot through your shoulder like a bolt of lightning, and you cried out. She tugged on your hair as the men beside you tried to pry her away from you. Luckily, she didn’t manage to yank any of it out once the men forced her away from you. Tears fell freely over your face as you cradled yourself, unable to stop the sobs from leaving your lips.

They let you leave early yet paid you as if you were there the whole day.

The ride back to the farm wasn’t any better, but at least your steed took notice of your heartache and was more merciful to you. When you made it home, you slowed her down when you saw Lucius limping towards the house.

You both stopped where you were, staring at one another as if you weren’t supposed to be seeing the other.

“Why are you back so early?” He asked first.

“Why are you dragging your foot?” You asked second.

Lucius took a deep breath, and you saw tears in his eyes. “I fell.”

The only time you had seen him cry was when burying Lucilla; it wouldn’t be from simply falling. You slowly pulled yourself off your horse but did so quick enough before he could rush to help you. You wished nothing more than to pull him into the warmth of the house, to sit him down and tend to his wound to distract you from your own.

Yet, the moment you took his hand, he began to weep.

“Oh Lucius.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to cradle his face. He wrapped both of his arms around you, bringing you onto the ground with him. You yelped a little when he squeezed your bad shoulder too tight, and he pulled away.

“What happened?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You need-.”

“-What happened?!”

Knowing he wouldn’t stop asking, you told him. “Someone at the gate attacked me. Pulled on my bad arm, my hair…it wasn’t as bad as you’d think-.”

“-Where is he?” He lowered his tone and his demeanor.

Your jaw dropped into a surprised huff. “She is long gone by now, and even if she wasn’t then as my husband, you should stay with me instead of wandering the streets of Rome hoping to find someone to be your anger’s victim!”

Though he still wore that rage upon his face, it soon fell once he saw your own tears fall from your eyes like dewdrops on flowers. Lucius laid himself flat on the dirt, and you sat above him.

“I have been married to you longer than I had been to Arishat.” He confessed. “I knew her for longer, but-but not as deeply; no, I-I knew her more than…I don’t…It’s been long since her death, yet there are moments I think of her, and I cannot stop crying.”

You never knew this was in his heart. You knew to never speak of Arishat, only listen whenever he would bring her up (even so, it was once in a blue moon).

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled, trying to pull himself together. “I know she is gone, and I shouldn’t be-.”

“-You shouldn’t what?” You interrupted. “Remember her? You think I wish for you to forget the woman you so loved?”

He shook his head. “No, but it’s selfish of me to-.”

You were the one to make him lose his words this time. With both hesitation certainty, you placed his head into your lap. It was too late for you to stop once you did, and you felt your own body tense. Then, upon taking a look at his body battered from rigorous work, and another at his face, which relaxed with his eyes fully shut, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Lucius,” you sighed. “never will I think you are a horrible man for mourning her. You missing her shows just how much you adored her, and how she was a treasure to you. In another life, above all, I wish I could have met her. You are not in the wrong for wanting to see her again. I know you do not love me-.”

“-I do love you.” He opened his eyes upon saying it.

Your heart felt as if it was going to beat itself out of your chest and run away when he said those four words. To preserve your sanity, you took it a different way and smiled sadly.

“Not in the way you loved her.” You said softly. “But what else more can I ask for in a husband than one who treats me with a gentleness I did not know was possible? One who has been there to protect me even before we were married?”

Lucius took a deep breath, rubbing his face to clear away his tears. “You’re too good to me.”

“Gods above,” you groaned tiredly. “we can go back and forth on who deserves each other. Let us just go back into the house, have supper, and sleep.”

“I would like that.” He hissed as he went to stand.

Helping him, once he was on his best foot, you said. “You never told me what you did to your leg.”

He looked behind him at the field. “There was a snake and a rock.”

You gave him a look. “And what happened with them?”

“I don’t wish to speak of it.” He said grimly.

In any other instance, you would have laughed. Yet, as his eyes were still heavy from crying, you just nodded. The both of you helped each other into the house, and you sat him down on one of the several cushions in the living area.

“Your arm,” he asked. “how bad is it?”

You shook your head. “Just really sore. I think she might have left a nasty bruise or two somewhere, but I won’t know yet.”

“Put one of the cloths in the pot with water and put it over the fire.” He told. “Take it out after a few minutes, let it rest for another, then put it on your shoulder. It should help.”

“Thank you.” You stood, doing so, saying. “I swore we had bandages somewhere. I’ll make something for you to drink too; I bought some herbs just last week.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of you as you worked. If it were any other man, you would have felt unsafe; yet, it was only Lucius.

Little by little that night, both of you helped heal one another.

Half a year passed since that night, and you and Lucius had only grown closer. Perhaps as close as you could be with a man who was not your husband by choice.

Not much on the farm had changed; you two were living comfortably, and happily, almost making all the turmoil from the first year worth it. The both of you decided to make more visits to Atticus and Diana’s home, realizing just how much you both missed having someone to talk to outside of each other; but that did not mean you had to keep things hidden of course.

If anything, you shared everything with each other.

So much so, that when Lucius asked you why you held onto him longer when he embraced you on your birthday, you told him the truth.

“I don’t want every time we touch to be when it is in turmoil.” You explained, growing meeker. “And I…I’ve missed the feeling of it when it has not been forced upon me.”

Lucius stared at you with a look you had never seen from him. He had been gentle with you many a times, but they way his eyes fell into yours…

He took a step closer to you, and when you showed no sign of discomfort, he took your face into his hands. Your eyes shut at the feeling of him, and he pressed his head against yours. Never in your life had someone’s breath upon your skin feel so immaculate.

From there on out, it always seemed like you had to have a hand on each other one way or another.

It started with holding hands whenever walking through the city together. He used to ‘lead’ you through the crowds in the past, but more so with a hand hovering over your back. No, him holding your hand meant he would have to go where you would go if anything were to happen.

Alongside this, he’d reach over and hold it at Atticus and Diana’s house; whether it was during dinner, or simply just talking. The eldest child had said what the rest of the household had been thinking.

“They’re finally acting like they’re married!”

Because even when there were no other eyes besides yours, he would still hold your hand. You wonder if it ever became a way for Lucius to ground himself; because it certainly did for you.

You hugged him more often as well. Those used to be for ‘substantial’ occasions; those being celebrations or heartbreaks. Now, they were incorporated into greetings and goodbyes. Of course, it only took a few weeks before they were than made into simple desires.

He would be cooking dinner, and you would come beside him to embrace him. You would be gathering eggs from the chickens, and he would wait for you to set the basket down before tossing his arms around you.

At night, it was normal for you both to trade spots as one of you would read a story, and the other would have their head in the other’s lap.

This happened on so many occasions, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise for what Lucius proposed next, but it did.

“If you don’t favor the question I’m about to ask you, then you are allowed to never speak to me again.” He said, his feet hanging off the arm of the lecti couch you both bought that year.

“Well,” you scoffed, sitting on the end of it. “I will have to speak to you again because we live together.”

“Would you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Never in your life had you thought that would have been his question. When you didn’t speak right away, he backtracked. “I don’t expect you to. I understand if-.”

“-The nights are growing colder.” You stated, no visible uneasiness. “I’ve noticed it, and I don’t think any number of blankets could warm me.”

He swallowed thickly, and this was perhaps one of the first times you’d ever seen him like this. “Yes…it’s cold.”

You nodded, and another beat of silence fell between you two. Standing up, you tugged at the seams of your dress. “I-I’ll go change.”

“Yes,” he sat up. “I shall as well.”

Disappearing into your room, you tossed your day clothes off then slipped on a nightdress. After pacing around the floor for a few moments, you gathered the courage to go out into the hall and knock on Lucius’ door.

It was opened as if he was standing right behind it.

He wore just a plain, tattered tunic, and said nothing; yet, you caught his eyes run down you before immediately bringing them back to your face. You were not even in his room yet, and already your body grew warmer.

“May I come in?” You asked.

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside and you entered.

Somehow, you were no longer man and wife; you were two people who had just discovered a strange, yet burning, feeling that you both held for one another. A feeling that you were both afraid to say aloud…because then it would be real.

The only light in his room was from the moon just peeking through the curtain of his one window. Looking around, you saw that it was still just the bare minimum; a bed, a small table beside it with a lamp, and a dresser. The only others things of note were his sword leaning against the wall, and just a few dirty clothes on the floor.

“I-I tried to clean before you came.” He mentioned.

“Is the rest under the bed?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Yes.”

Before you could change your mind, you pulled the covers off one side of the bed and slid under them. Glancing behind at Lucius, you saw him wear a look where you knew he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” You asked.

“That’s usually the side I sleep on but-.”

You rolled over to the other side. “Are you content now?”

He wheezed, moving to his designated side, slipping under the covers. “Very.”

“Good.” You smiled up at him.

His own mouth lowered as you could see him thinking. He then said. “I don’t expect us to do anything.”

You watched as his eyes dropped from you, as if it was too invasive just to merely look. Thinking from only your heart, you scooted closer, resting your hand on his arm. You ran your fingers up and down his muscles, but then guided his arm to wrap around your waist.

“Okay?”

He hummed, pulling you just a little closer. “Yes.”

“And we’ll just lay together?” You whispered. “Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

And that’s what you did. The compete truth was that you would caress him only to remind yourself that it was Lucius and not Geta. His arms, his back, his face…he was nothing like him.

After a few more nights, you told him that as you both lay awake, unable to sleep. He had pulled you on top of him that night, saying that you could see his face better in the moonlight. You only giggled, hiding your face in his chest; even that was too much for you.

It was easier to tell each other things in the darkness. You always knew that, but with being in the same bed (you had not gone back to your room for a week), the words flowed out of both your mouths.

“After my father died,” you said one night as you laid on your side facing him. “I would stroke my own hair or even my arms and pretend they were someone else’s. Even when I was with Geta.”

Lucius stared at you, then immediately began to caress your cheek. You shut your eyes, sighing at the feeling.

“I never thought I’d be able to sleep next to another woman again.” He whispered.

“And now?” You looked into his eyes.

He stopped his movements, but did not remove his hand. You watched every part of him. How his chest heaved shallowly, his arms tensing ever so slightly, but his eyes…gods his eyes. They were heavy as they looked at you; a look that made your heart flutter and not shutter.

Swallowing your fear, you sat up and inched closer to him. Your face hovered above his, and your breath heated his skin. His hand continued to trace shapes about your cheek, and shutting your eyes, you placed your lips upon his.

It was the gentlest kiss you ever shared with a man.

You had pulled away, dreading to see how he felt. When your eyes befell his gentle smile, and his other hand came up to cup your face, you kissed him again.

And again, and again, and again.

You climbed upon his lap without pulling your lips away from him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sat up, his own arm encircling your waist and drawing you impossibly closer.

Lucius parted from you, and as you whined at the loss of his lips, they soon settled upon your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your chin. Your heavy pants turned to soft grunts as he kissed down your neck, his mustache scratching your skin in just the right way.

Your hands settled into his hair the lower he traveled, moving your night gown off your shoulder to kiss your collarbone. You felt yourself becoming intoxicated from him, and only then noticed you had been for a while.

Oh, how you wished you could bottle up his laugh, his strength, his stubbornness, and get drunk every night. His kisses only added fuel to the fire that was your desire for him.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, and your body, once enflamed, ran cold.

“No!” You tore yourself from his lap, nearly falling off the bed.

Lucius said your name, leaning forward on instinct but soon stopped once he saw you crawl away. “I’m sorry.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. All you knew was that you needed to go, so you did. Cradling yourself in your arms, you got up from his bed, rushing out of his room and into yours.

You half expected him to knock on the door, then, when you wouldn’t answer, him yell and curse you before breaking it down. Yet nothing of the sort happened. You heard his own door open, and you saw his shadow on the other side, but he did not touch your door. He left after a moment of waiting.

When his own door shut, did you finally cry.

You told yourself that night, you would wake up far earlier than Lucius would so you simply wouldn’t have to see him.

When you awoke, you did the exact opposite. You laid in your bed, trying to return to sleep, only to be forced to lie in the dark. The sun rose into your room, and you heard Lucius’ door open. Still, you did not get up.

It was quite comedic, actually. With your door still shut, he knew you were still home. How he tried his best to keep quiet for you, yet his footsteps had always been heavy, the front door had always creaked, and you could always hear him cursing under his breath every time.

When you knew he had left the house, that was when you stood from your bed, slipping on your sandals. You didn’t bother changing out of your nightdress, leaving your room, and then the house.

Lucius was amongst the chickens when he saw you. He didn’t bother hiding the surprise upon his face at the sight of you. You walked to him until there was little space between you.

“Last night-.”

You took his hand from his side, placing it upon your face. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb as if it was natural. Kissing the palm of his hand, you trailed it down to your clothed breast. He breathed your name with hesitance, but you shushed him. You held his hand there, not taking your eyes off him.

“I will show you, one day.” You told him. “I will show you the mark Geta had made. The one where I myself can scarcely see it, yet I know that it haunts me. But now…” You brought your other hand up to his face, tracing your thumb over his lip. “I just want you to understand.”

He kissed the pad of your thumb, nodding. You embraced him, and he held you with both gentleness and ferocity. The rest of the day carried on as normal, yet you aided him with the chores on the farm.

You went to bed with him that night, but it was the first time he did not entrap you in his arms. You knew he was still afraid of hurting you, but you would be a liar if you said you weren’t thankful for the space.

Still, he would feel your touch every day; whether it was something as small as brushing his hand, or as substantial as kissing his cheek.

As the both of you lay awake one night, you played with the sleeve of his tunic.

“Could I lie on top of you?” You asked.

Lucius looked over at you, nodding. “You never need to ask.”

“I want to.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “I never want to force you to do anything.”

His eyes fell to your hips before returning them to your face. “I’ll tell you if I wish to not do something. I hope you know you can as well.”

“I do. Would you like to touch me?”

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

You moved his hands to your hips, which he held firmly, yet not enough to hurt you. You leaned down so your lips touched his.

“No teeth.” You said.

“No teeth.” He repeated.

Lucius sighed into your mouth as you kissed. Despite how you were on top of him, the kiss was sweet, shy even. When you pulled away, you trailed your lips from his cheek to his ear.

“Do you dream about me?” You rasped.

He said nothing, and you continued to kiss every part of his face besides his lips.

“It’s okay.” You kissed his Adam’s Apple. “I want you too.”

“Yes.” His breath hitched.

“What was I doing in your favorite one?” You kissed his pulse point.

“You,” he breathed sharply through his nose. “you’re touching yourself.”

“Would that please you?” You sat up in somewhat surprise, resting your hands on his chest. “To watch me do so?”

He shook his head. “I want to do what pleases you.”

It felt foreign to hear someone say they want you to feel good. Instead of cowering from it, you faced it head on. You kneeled for a moment, hiking your gown up to your hips before sitting back on your ankles,  exposing yourself to him. Lucius’ jaw clenched at the sight of your naked center, and he drew his hands away from your hips, falling them into fists upon the mattress.

“I wish to watch you as you watch me.”

Without looking away from you, he drew his hand down to his cock, pulling it out from under his tunic. Your eyes grew just a hint. There was no doubt upon him being more well-endowed than others, but it was still different from how you imagined.

Shutting your eyes, you trailed your fingers over your cunt, your thumb playing with your clit. The sounds of Lucius’ smothered grunts, and the skin of his cock on his fingers only added to your pleasure. Digging deeper and moving faster, you felt a coil within your stomach tighten when you opened your eyes and saw as Lucius’ gaze bore into yours.

Light moans escaped your lips as your hips moved with a mind of their own, watching the man beneath you take pleasure from his own hand. It was him chanting your name like a prayer that sent you over the edge. With your eyes shut, the coil within you snapped, and pleasure filled your veins.

Not long after, you felt a warmth coat your nightdress. Opening your eyes, you looked down and saw the white-hot residue of Lucius’ release. Your gaze drew to his cock, still clutched in his hand, yet red with droplets of white running over his knuckles.

You don’t know what possessed you to, but you lowered your mouth down to clean him with your tongue.

“Gods be good!” He huffed, laughing your name.

“What?” You wiped your mouth.

 “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Grinning like the devil, you slid off the bed, walking towards the door. “I hope it’s a pleasant one then.”

He sat up. “Where are you going?”

“To change. You dirtied me as well.” You teased.

“Take one of my tunics from the dresser.”

It almost made you laugh that he didn’t want you to leave for even a second. You opened the top drawer, grabbing the longest tunic you could find before facing him. “Close your eyes.”

He laid on his side, putting a pillow over his head. Many would find it strange how the both of you would see the most intimate parts of yourself while doing one of the most intimate acts together, yet you didn’t want him to see you naked.

But Lucius never thought of it as strange. He knew what you had been through, and never once judged you.

When you were clothed, you slid into bed, wrapping your arms around his body and pressing a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

“You’re a good man, Lucius Verus Aurelius.” You whispered. “I will tell you that until the day you die, or when you finally believe me.”

He squeezed your hand, relaxing into your touch. You never slept so peacefully until that night.

You always had to see him whenever he would touch you so intimately. There would be nights where there was only a single candle in the room as he trailed his hand up your thigh whilst you sat on his lap.

His fingers were too much for you at first, but he never ridiculed you. When you whimpered at the feeling, he retracted them, kissing your eyes. You asked him again to try, and he whispered praises into your hair as the pain from a dry spell soon turned into pleasure.

It was usually at night did these moments of exploration occurred. In the day, the most you would ever do was kiss. That is, until the first time you cut his hair since the discovery of feelings.

“I don’t want to get hair on your floor.” Lucius said as he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the foot of your bed. It was hotter than sin that day. He wore nothing but a loincloth, but that barely did anything to help him from the heat. You wore essentially a thin shift that would usually be under your dress; yet again, because of the heat, that was all you wore.

You sat on the bed, legs draped over his shoulders as you cut his hair. “It’s your floor too. You built the house.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I haven’t slept here for a while now. Besides, I will clean up.”

“I had no idea you favored doing domestic work now.” He turned and pressed a kiss to your knee.

You slapped the back of his head. “Don’t move! I’ll give you a bald spot if you do so again.”

“Yes, my mistress of the house.” He joked.

“You’re horrible.”

“You just told me I was a good man not so long ago.”

“And I can just as easily revoke that title.”

He stayed silent the rest of the time, but not from any underlining anger. Simply from his at ease posture, you knew he was smiling.

He smiled more those days.

When you were finished, you tossed your scissors aside, but Lucius’ hands settled upon your thighs, not allowing you to get up. You scoffed.

“What is it?”

He turned to face you, kneeling up to meet you. “I wish to try something, but only if you wish it as well.”

You rose your brow, but smiled, kissing his nose. “It will be difficult if I do not know what it is.”

Without drawing his eyes away from yours, he slid his hands up your thighs, bringing the bottom of your shift with it. It seemed normal at first, but once he lowered his mouth, your chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I want to kiss you there.” His breath caressed your cunt and you mewled at the feeling. “I think you’ll enjoy it, but we don’t have to.”

Your heart changed from beating in fear, to then in anticipation. You loved how he kissed your lips, and every inch of your skin that was not covered, what would it feel like to have his lips there?

Kissing the top of his head, you laid on your elbows, nodding.

“Let me hear you say it.” He nosed the inside of your thigh.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Please.”

He lowered his mouth back down, pressing the lightest of kissed onto your center. You groaned through shut lips, only for them to part open as the hairs of his mustache tickled you whilst he began to lap at your wetness.

Tossing your head back, you sat up, running your hands through his hair, unconsciously rolling your hips to meet his mouth. His groan reverberated through your body, only adding to the pleasure you were feeling.

“Lucius, Lucius,” you babbled his name until it didn’t sound like a word.

His nose bumped against your aching clit the same time his tongue penetrated your cunt. You yelped as that familiar, tightening feeling swept over you. His half-lidded eyes would stare up at you every once in a while, as he would continue to drink from you as if he had been stranded in the desert. Just as you were on the brink of release, you drew him away from you.

“What-what is it?” He huffed. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips to his before scooting further up the bed. With one last breath, you pulled your shift over your head, revealing your bare body to him. His gaze ran over your figure unashamedly.

“Come here.” You beckoned.

He crawled onto the bed and over your body, yet still looked at your face. You took his hand and laid it over your breast. His body ran cold at what was on the side of it. A bite mark.

“He branded me all those years ago.” You confessed. “And it has not left since.”

Geta…

You ran your hand up his chest. “I love you, and I trust you with every part of my body. I need you to know that.”

“I love you.” He echoed, pressing the tenderest of kisses to the mark and you gasped lightly. “I have for so long now; I…I need you.”

“Then have me.”

He sat back on his knees, unwrapping his loin cloth and tossing it to the floor. Precum leaked from his sweltering cock as it stood upright like a pillar. You crawled over, kissing every inch of his face and climbing into his lap. He drew his arms around your waist, his finger tracing circles into the small of your back.

“I don’t know how long I will last.” He puffed heavily. “It’s been so long.”

“I just want you inside of me.” You kissed his jaw, taking his cock into your hand and sinking down onto it. It had been a while for you too, and while you were soaked, it was not enough to completely subside the tightness. “Just…wait.”

“I could die happy if all you wanted was for me to remain still as you’re above me.” He said into your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin because that was the only way to remind you that he was still there. The further you sunk down on him, the easier and more pleasureful you felt.

“I’m going to move now.” You said into his shoulder, and you did.

Slowly, at first you relished in the quiet slapping of skin and the breath moans leaving both you and Lucius’ lips. He trailed a syrupy line of kisses down your throat until he bowed his head to place them upon your chest.

“Your name,” Lucius said into your skin. “tell me your name.”

You gave him a look as you rolled your hips into his, yet sighed your name.

“Again.” He breathed, latching his lips around the tip of your breast.

You did.

“Again.” He kissed the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into his touch, saying your name a third time.

He repeated your given name, than following it with ‘Aurelias’. Your movements stilled, yet he did not care.

“You are the most cunning woman I have met, and you are my wife.” He stated, never looking away from you. Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw the same for him, and you gave him a messy kiss before resuming faster this time.

After months of being called a name that did not belong to you, especially whenever in the bedroom, Lucius was doing everything to remind you that you were yourself again as you felt pleasure.

It felt as if, after two years, ‘Julia’ was finally gone.

You chanted his name as if it was your favorite prayer, burying your hands in his hair and kissing his lips.

“Lucius, Lucius, Lucius…”

Because, just like you, how long had it been since his true name was uttered whilst in the throes of pleasure?

He moaned into your mouth, holding onto you tighter. You squealed when he rose up onto his knees, latching your legs around his waist and only crying out sharply when your throbbing clit ran across his pubic hair.

“Come on, come on,” he urged into your ear. “I know you can give it to me.”

“Lu-Lu-!” You moaned, running your nails over the thick field of muscles that was his back.

He said your name over and over again, until it was one word that was the end of you.

“Please.”

You came with your vision blinded from the state of euphoria you had reached. Lucius still held you above him even as his legs began to quake, bouncing you on his cock. You felt as though you were suspended in air when his groans stammered, and you felt strings of his cum paint the walls of your cunt.

Slowly, he lowered the two of you onto the mattress, laying you on your back like you were the most precious treasure in the world. You kept your legs around his waist, breathing with him with your chests glued together from your sweat.

“Lucius-.” You began, trying to shift under him.

“-Just,” he grunted. “just another moment. Please.”

How could you deny him? Every kiss he gave was loving as he laid upon you. His cock had grown soft, and even you were aware that you could’ve fallen asleep if you weren’t careful.

When he pulled away from you, you let out an involuntary whine.

“I thought you wanted me to get off you?” He kissed your stomach when he stood up.

You shoved him playfully. “Just clean me up and come back.”

“So controlling.”

Still, he did what you asked, bringing a soaked washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning you. You groaned out of both the cold water hitting your hot skin, and the heat from the air itself.

“We should’ve waited until night.” You whined.

“Why?”

“I’m suffocating from the air outside!”

Lucius hummed, tossing the washcloth aside and looming over you. “Then that forces us to wear nothing today, so that we might cool down.”

You nodded. “Perhaps you aren’t as feeble minded as I thought.”

He settled behind you, tossing an arm over your waist and pulling your back to his chest. Even though his cock pressed against you, the two of you were completely exhausted from the heat of the day’s work, and the heat of what took place only moments before.

The only sound was that of the cicadas singing in the summertime. Sometimes, a breeze or two of wind would bounce the curtain off the window, but for the most part, just the even breathing you shared with Lucius was all you could hear.

Lucius’ mustache rubbed your skin when he placed a kiss to your neck. “What’s going on inside of your mind right now?”

You grinned. “A proper wife would say that I was thinking of you.”

“But that’s not what it is.”

“It’s something that has nothing to do with anything of note.”

He squeezed you. “Spit it out, woman.”

Sighing, you felt a sense of dread in your heart; both for your thoughts, and also how your husband would react. So, you tried your best to explain it.

“Do you even wonder how you will be remembered?” You began. “Spoken from mouths? Written in books? Painted on walls? They’ll remember Lucius, the Lost Son, the Last Gladiator…What will they remember of me, if anything? Rome’s Cleopatra? Her Delight? A whore to the twin emperors? I like to fantasize that they will name me the first woman who sat upon the emperor’s throne, even if it was as the last of its consul. Yet, even if they name me…I will be Julia. The name of a slave, the name I only accepted when he would press me into the bed so roughly. I only survived because I would need to tell myself that he was doing all of it to Julia, not to me.”

It felt quieter in that room, even though the sounds outside did not cease. Lucius gently turned your body towards him, and he stroked your face with the back of his hand.

“You’re crying,” he uttered your name, frowning.

You wiped your eyes, wanting to hide from him. Yet, he did not allow it, pulling your hands away from you and wrapping them around his shoulders.

“Would you wish I remain silent, or share with you what is in my head?” He asked.

“Talk to me.” You answered.

“I never cared of what history would see of me.” He stated. “Even as a boy. I know that we are different in most aspects of life, but I believe it serves no one to wonder away how we will be viewed long after we are dead. I do not care if or what a stranger thinks of me in a lifetime later. I care how Atticus and Diana see me. I care what their children think. Above all, I care of what you see me to be.”

You pressed your head against his. “You’re pigheaded and quite foolish sometimes.”

“And it matters you say that.” He pulled you closer. “Because that is what you will tell others when I pass on.”

“You know I don’t think that is all you are.” You remined him.

“I do.” He nodded. “I will know you for your wit, and your protective nature, and your kindness.”

“I never truly thought of myself as kind.” You gave a pained smile.

“That is how I see you.” He kissed your brow. “And what I will say with my last dying breath.”

You wondered how such a man as himself could exist at the same time you did. A man who hated you prior to everything yet laid with you in bed. A man who treated you with a tenderness you never thought possible.

A man who could be the last person on earth with you, and you would only feel at peace.

You did not need to say anything to him. Simply by the innocent smile that spread across your lips, did he know. You fell into the most comfortable of silences together as you laid naked in the summer heat.

The both of you were lost to time as we all shall be one day.

Perhaps you lived on that farm for the rest of your days, or perhaps you moved to a different land.

Perhaps you had ten children, perhaps you had only one, or perhaps you had none and were content with each other’s company.

Perhaps you died before him, perhaps he died before you, or perhaps you both passed onto the Elysian fields together.

All that truly matters, at the end of all things, is the life the two of you led together, and what you and loved ones remembered the most of it.