This Is So Good

This is so good 🥵🫠🥵🫠

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | CW: Joel Miller x fem! reader; smut WC: 1.0k

I don’t know where I was going with this but it just came to mind on the fly and I felt the need to share before I went to bed so yeah. We are simply here for the vibes.

It was a mistake initiating this, that much you knew but you stopped giving a fuck after the second beer you downed. The transitions from point A at the Tipsy Bison to somewhere else for Point B seemed like a blur, a stop-motion film of your bad decisions playing before you on an endless loop.

Not that you cared enough to stop and watch.

Strong calloused hands dug into the skin of your thighs, nails pressing into the thick muscle and pulling you forward, ever closer. Needy fingers reached downward between your legs to grip onto graying curls and tugged with a soft yank, the other gripped on the old sheets underneath that smelled faintly of pinewood.

You could hear him, the loud slurping bordering on obnoxious with the circular movements of his tongue against your cunt. His grip was harsh if it wasn’t deprived, and as your heart pounded in your chest you finally opened your eyes to look at the culprit.

Joel Miller.

They warned you that he was dangerous, a man of terrifying stature. You heard stories about him in passing as if he were some folktale told to scare the children before bed, envisioning a boogeyman without a soul. It wasn’t until you arrived at Jackson and met him face-to-face on your third assigned patrol that you realized just how wrong they were.

Sure, the warnings matched somewhat. He was ruthless, a man with impenetrable skin despite the multitude of scars you counted from afar. You watched in awe at how efficiently he could bring down a clicker, or how the blade of his knife stained with crimson as he cut through a raider’s throat from behind.

There was a darkness in him, reminiscent of someone who had been tormented by his own demons for years. In a world like this where one already had so little, you took what you could get, and this wasn’t any different. He commanded any room he was in even if it were unintentional, it simply came with his reputation.

Joel made his bed years ago, and now he has to lie in it. But with you lying alongside him, the sentiment was preferable.

It should scare you, the twisted edge you could feel wash over him in waves with every step he took. You spotted it earlier when he walked through the doors of the bar and quietly sat himself down towards the far end. The last thing that should’ve happened was you striking up a conversation, attempting to grab his attention.

That darkness shone bright like a beacon in the night, and you were merely a moth to a flame.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned out loud, guiding his head right where you needed him and shifting your hips against the faded cut on the bridge of his nose.

He groaned against you and sucked harder at your clit, fingers working in tandem to bring you closer to the precipice and drink more of you. You tasted better than the stale beer he drank, and he ignored the bubbling guilt tearing at his gut by digging his face into you with an intense hunger.

Joel didn’t know how this happened, not that he was complaining. One minute, you were talking to him with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes that sent all the blood in his body drifting South. The next, he found himself plucking at the top of your shirt, meshing his lips hard against your mouth and grinding his hips with force.

Regardless of his rough exterior, he was a weak man to your charm and intrigue, and perhaps that constituted him as a selfish one too. But in this reality, the only thing one could do was take and take and take.

Another soft cry filled the four walls of his bedroom, huffs of your breath on par with the flicks of his tongue against your aching core. You were so close you could taste it, the pleasant contrast of Joel’s facial hair rubbing into your pussy making you crave more. You silently hoped to leave your mark and claim him for yourself, praying that he could still feel your presence when you left in the morning.

Two fingers thrust into you then, back arching off of the bed at the intrusion. They curved into a come hither motion, finding that hidden spot tucked away inside you with shocking precision, focusing all of their attention on pressing right there nonstop.

“Joel,” a broken gasp of his name drew his blackened hazel eyes to take in the bliss written over your features. He hummed in acknowledgment, trained ears playing the sound of your voice endlessly in his head. He couldn’t get enough, and from the way your lower stomach flexed, he knew you were about to cum by his touch.

“C’mon, give it to me sweetheart,” it was an order, a command, a dying man’s last wish. You couldn’t help but oblige.

Your thighs shook on his shoulders the moment your release hit, hands clutching at his scalp as he ripped one final moan from your throat. A feeling you’ve almost long forgotten coursed through you from the balls of your feet to the very top of your head. Like a tide hitting the shore, it flowed over you in calming motions until the water stilled and the pleasure simmered into numbness.

Joel placed a soft kiss against your twitching pussy one last time as you basked in the aftershocks, kissing your thighs and hip and trailing a path up your body before his lips met your own. You could taste yourself on the entirety of his upper lip, and as he grinned at you, your gaze held the same satisfaction he carried.

Who knew a bad idea could have such a pretty face?

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

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nightly

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader word count: 1k summary: Joel is a mistake you just keep making. content/warnings: no specified Joel era so take your pick, dirty talk, literally all just smut, big dick, daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon undertones, Joel is an asshole a/n: I have been struggling to focus on writing for a minute now, but the horny gods smiled upon me and let me get this together. Praise be to @ozarkthedog for always letting me run my godforsaken ideas past you. Love you lots 💕

You can feel the wet spot on the bed against your back. Joel has you folded like a pretzel, backs of your knees resting on his sun-freckled shoulders, wrists pinned above your head and ass suspended in the air as he drills into you. A single curl bounces at his temple, separate from the rest of his hair that's plastered with sweat to his forehead.

If you make the same mistake five days in a row, can you really still call it a mistake?

He's far too old for you, and a little too mean for you, but damned if he isn't the best lay you've ever had.

Eight inches, uncut, a dick so fucking fat you can barely wrap your hand around it. You can hardly believe he's buried balls deep in you right now. That your body can even take it.

"C'mon, honey, that's it-" Joel's voice is a growl, punctuated by heavy panting, "This pretty lil gash is fuckin' droolin' baby, my own personal slip 'n slide-"

"You're a crass old man," you whine.

"I sure am, honey," he agrees with a grin, "But don't think I can't feel the way you soak me whenever I talk crass, sweetheart."

"I hate you."

He laughs, and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple and along the curve of his nose, splashing onto your cheek. Unthinkingly, you dart your tongue out to catch some of the sweat. Joel's grin turns to a smirk.

"Hate me all you like. You're the one who's come over every night this fuckin' week. Monday through Friday, baby. Hate me so much you can't get enough of daddy's big dick, huh?"

"Fuck you, you're such an asshole-"

This jab is even less effective, punctuated with a moan and a whimper.

"Sure, sweetheart, I am. But don't pretend like we don't both know--you don't have to come here at all."

He grinds against you, coarse hair rubbing against your mound as if to further his point. Pressure hits your clit just right and it's bliss. You have to fully restrain yourself to stop from howling, and even then, you let out a ragged moan.

Joel clamps a hand over your mouth and looks you dead in the eyes.

"I love those pretty sounds, baby, but remember I got neighbors? Thought you said you'd die before anyone finds out about us."

You try to roll your eyes, but he thrusts again and you're caught in another moan. The glide of his body against your clit, especially when he's stretching you out so exquisitely? It's overwhelming. You try to stay quiet, you really do.

It's not your fault though, not when Joel's fucking you silly.

Now, though, he's frustrated.

"Quiet now, settle-"

"I'm not a fucking dog, Joel, I- ahhh-" you mumble and moan between his fingers, barely muffled at all.

"Oh really? Not a fucking dog? Wanna tell me then why you're tryna get bred like a bitch in heat?"

He smacks your cheek, drawing out another pathetic whine that only seems to cement his point.

He sneers. "Those pretty lil noises you're makin' for me? That don't sound like a good girl. That sounds to me like a nasty fuckin' slut who can't help but keep her legs spread so her daddy can fill her up good. Huh? C'mon baby. Tell me to cum inside."

"Fuck you Joel."

Suddenly, cruelly, he stops. Ceases any movement. Relaxes the grip on your wrists.

Panic overtakes you.

"What the fuck-?"

"Sorry sweetheart," he shakes his head, "You don't want this? You can see yourself out."

"No, I-"

You notice he's still sheathed inside you. You feel him do something, flexing his dick inside of you. Frankly, it's cheating.

"Please don't stop."

"What was that, honey?"

"Joooeeel-"

"Quit your whinin', use your words."

"Please fuck me."

"That ain't it, you know whatcha gotta say."

He starts rocking his hips gently, a slippery glide. It's not enough to stimulate. Just enough to make you want more. Need more.

The way you clench around him tells on yourself more starkly than your words ever could.

He's grinning again. "That's it, baby. You ready to admit what you need?"

"Come on, Joel."

"Cum where?"

You sigh. But you know you aren't gonna hold out any longer. He's pressing his thumb just above your clit and the glide of the motion is so fucking delicious it's hard not to buck against it.

Rut against it.

A bitch in heat.

"Fuck me, daddy-" you whine.

"You sound real pretty beggin'. Nearly got it honey. One more try?"

"Cum inside me."

"Mmmmm-" Joel groans, and the grip on your wrists tightens again. "Music to my ears, honey. Tell me where you want it?"

"Inside me, cum inside-"

"You want me to cum inside this lovely lil' pussy?"

"Please Joel-"

"That right?"

"Please cum in me, fill me up, fuck it deep-"

With that, his composure breaks and any restraint he had crumbles. Folds you deeper, fucks you deeper, pins you down and jackhammers into you.

You couldn't move, even if you wanted to, and that knowledge somehow heightens everything. It's blindingly bright, dizzyingly addictive. You barely notice the way Joel's lavishing you with praise, each deep thrust punctuated with good girl, good girl, good fucking girl-

When you cum, you feel the way his balls tighten as if in response, tipping over the edge mere moments after you. It could be romantic, finding yourselves cumming together, if there was any romance between you.

As you start to fade back down, you're able to pay attention again.

"That's it," he's praising you, and you realise his cock is still pulsing. You make to start moving, but he growls and holds you still. "That's right, sweetheart. Gotta let me fill you all the way up. Gonna make sure it takes."

Clarity starts to overtake you and you know that you've made a big fucking mistake. By the time you've come back to yourself, though, your pussy's flooded and pulsing oh so nicely, and Joel's pulling out of you. He moves into the other room and you hear him turn on the shower.

"You can let yourself out," he calls to you. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Your panties are sticky the whole way home.

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I absolutely love this!!! So fucking hot and that ending?! So clever!

teach me, general

hi: i wrote this because general acacius is still making me feel hornee things®. I don't know shit about roman gladiator times, about the language, about a n y t h i n g this is just a debauched excuse to think of this man naked and fucking.

You've been promised to another man to save Rome, but you have no desire to become his wife. Marcus Acacius has been assigned to ensure you do not flee before your wedding. Things happen.

trope: enemies to lovers

pedro character: Marcus Acacius x female reader (you)

warnings: innocence kink, age gap (not specified, but he an old peepaw just how we like him) , Marcus tries to be good but we like him bad, AU as fuck because i have no idea what happens in the movie, virgin bullshit, eating out, allusions (are what whores do for money or candy) to other sex, , i think that's everything.

RATED 18+

wanna see my other stuff?

"I will not play nursemaid to a spoiled child."

Marcus sweeps the scroll from the desk angrily, standing and stalking to the window, his cape fluttering behind him. 

Commander Cassius, an older man and one of The emperor's most trusted advisors stands in the corner, his gnarled hands folded in front of him. 

"She has not been a child for quite some time, General Acacius," the commander replies, a smirk crossing his lined mouth. 

Marcus only makes a scoffing noise at that, refusing to turn around and give the older man the respect he thinks he deserves. 

"She is desperate." the commander adds, walking in Marcus direction. "She is to be wed tomorrow."

"The city talks of nothing else." 

Marcus is sick to death with talk of your marriage to a neighbouring royal family. The marriage means bountiful coin and harvest for Rome. It's a step towards unification and the future. 

But for the last several months it's all he's heard of between battles. The dress, the food, the entertainment. It's all so grating to hear about when he throws himself into daily combats. 

"She has made her feelings on the matter quite clear," the commander says with a gentle exhalation. "There is concern she will flee in the night."

"Why?"

"She has no desire to marry. No interest in continuing the bloodline."

There are rumors of course. That the Prince you've been promised to is dim, that he drinks too much, that he has an eye only for men. It's no wonder you don't look forward to such a union.

"She says she will study at the universities instead," Cassius chuckles. "A silly fantasy. She is a woman after all." 

Marcus is quiet with contemplation. He'd just returned from battle days ago. He was still weary, his patience thin. The poor reception home from his family adds to his bitter mood. 

"But she is wise beyond her years," the commander says. "She has managed escape more than once, as you well know. It was you yourself who retrieved her the night of her eighteenth birthday in the olive grove was it not?" 

Marcus rolls his eyes recalling how you screamed and punched his armour as he dragged you down from the branches, throwing you over his shoulder. You screamed until your voice was hoarse as he carried you home that evening, shouting obscenities in his ear the entire way. 

All because you'd wanted a chance to see the Gladiators. You'd begged your parents and they'd been quite clear that it was no place for you. You'd snuck out anyway, caught by Marcus before you could even get to the Coliseum. 

When he does not reply the older commander stepped forward, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. 

"You have your orders from the Emperor."

Marcus shrugs off the older man's touch, his dark eyes sharp. 

"And why must it be me?'

'"Because, General Acacius, you are the one man that cannot be fooled by her."

The slave is at the door when Marcus knocks at your bedroom. Their face is covered; their stance cowered when they open the door widely. 

"General Acacius," the quiet voice observes eyes on the ground. Marcus is grim-faced, entering into the room.

"I have been instructed by the Emperor to keep watch tonight."

"I see," the woman nods, her face still tilted respectfully to the floor. "I was just about to fetch her dinner."

Marcus steps further into the lavish room with its bright, white walls and smooth marble floors. 

"Where is she?" 

"She is in her bed," the slave replies bowing even more lowly. 

Marcus' dark eyes move to the bed, seeing the sleeping figure's chest rise and fall through the gauzy curtains that hang on all sides. 

"The sun is not yet set."

"She is overcome. Her wishes for the marriage to be called off have been ignored."

Marcus nods, watching as the slave goes to move past him. Her feet slap the floor slowly, everything in her body suggesting an unhurried dedication to her position. 

She brushes Marcus' sleeve and he sniffs the air, a familiar scent wafting over him. Roses. 

Without warning his large hand darts out, grabbing the slave by the arm and dragging her back into the room before she can leave. The door is slammed shut, her exit blocked. 

"General-"

Marcus says nothing; he simply rips the veil from the woman's face, shaking his head in frustration as your uncovered visage stares unblinking back at him. 

He watches as you sneer, your irritation clear. 

"How did you know?" 

"Rosewater," he replies in a husky murmur. "No slave could afford to bathe in such luxury." 

You pull your elbow from his grasp, furious at being caught. You call out to the girl in your bed. 

"Amilius you are released." 

A taller woman a haggard face and wild hair rolls out of the bed. She is clearly a slave but wears an embroidered toga meant for royalty. 

"You will still be paid," you assure her as she approaches you both, her eyes on the floor. You retrieve the pouch of clattering coin from your locked cabinet, placing its heavy bundle into her shocked hands. 

"It is too much."

"Not at all," you insist. "I thank you for trying. You may keep the clothing as well." 

"You are most welcome." 

The smile the two of you exchange is sweet and Marcus is furious at the sight of it. How dare you think up this scheme and how dare this slave go along with it? 

"You are bold," he says, stepping towards her. "To defy the word of your Emperor and not expect retaliation." 

"She did it only to defend me," you break in, stepping between Marcus and the girl. "To give me a chance at escape."

"Treason," Marcus snarls, his eyes still on the girl behind you. "You will be put on trial."

Amilius shrinks back, her eyes wide. The thought of punishment like this never occurred to her. She simply follows what you tell her, as she always has. 

"I will say I drugged her," you shoot back. "I will be put on trial. I will be sentenced to death. I choose that. Anything is better than a marriage to that self important caenum!"

Your chest heaves with untapped anger. Marcus knows that this is true. You are just stubborn enough to choose death but it would mean only calamity for Rome. 

"Leave us."

Amilius nods and shuffles from the room, closing the door behind her. You watch as Marcus locks it before coming back to you. 

"So they sent the General," you say with a laugh as you remove the slave’s cloak you were wearing. You drop it into a chair before looking at him. "How fearsome a creature I must be if the strongest General in the army is sent to watch me."

"Fearsome I think not. An annoyance to be sure." 

You roll your eyes, going to the table that holds the wine and other spirits. Several chalices are there, empty and ready to be filled. 

"Some wine, General?"

Marcus shakes his head. He would never drink when on such a job. He doesn't trust you. You shrug, pouring two glasses anyway. 

Marcus is surveying your room, quietly taking in all the personal touches. He notices you position your writing desk to the east, to enjoy the midday sun. Your bed is soft and layered with furs to keep away the chill. 

You walk back over to him, holding out the larger chalice to your guest.

"Here." 

You watch as Marcus takes both chalices in hand, swapping the one you poured for him with yours. You go to deny him this but he's already taken a deep pull from his glass, smiling at you when you make no move to do the same.  

"None for you?"

You try to keep your voice even, not wishing to show your hand. 

"I find my thirst rather quenched." 

"Is that so? Or is it that I caught onto your pathetic ploy to drug my wine?" Marcus smirks, taking a deep sip.

You say nothing; you bite the inside of your cheek instead. Marcus digs the blade in a little deeper. 

 "The vial made a rather obvious noise when it hit the rim of the chalice." 

You bite so harshly you draw blood. 

Its hours later and the fire has been cracking for the better part of the evening since the sun went down. 

Marcus sits on an ornate chair before the fire, his body stoic and broad and strangely intimidating despite his continued silence. He has the chair facing you, not letting you out of his sight for even a moment. 

You sit at your writing desk, hunched over parchment as you write hurriedly. The scratch of the stylus is the only sound in the bedroom. 

Marcus exhales slowly, irritated at needing to be here at all. Knowing his luck, he'll also be forced to be at the royal wedding as well. 

You stand and take a stretch, cracking your back as you arch your spine. The flowing fabric drifts over your body pooling at your feet. Marcus takes note of your head tilted back, eyes closed. He doesn't remember your profile being this striking. He muses it is one that should be etched onto roman coins, remembered by those to come forever after. 

You walk over to him with a tired look in your eyes. 

"It is late," you tell Marcus. 

Marcus doesn't reply. He simply sits there, waiting for you to tire of whatever game you've begun. 

"I thank you for the fire, General." 

"You are most welcome."

He isn't expecting you to walk behind him pretending to stoke the fire. And he can only blame his lack of focus on his extreme lack of sleep. He'd managed none during battle and at home it seemed he was more than a little restless. 

He feels your hand slide the dagger from his hip, realizing too late. You go streaming across the room, your eyes wild when he races after you. 

"Impudice fur!"

"I have stolen nothing," you shoot back at the insult. 

The two of you circle what another in the room like your own miniaturized version of the Gladiator pit. 

"You have stolen years off my life," Marcus growls. "You have turned my hair silver."

You look at the dark hair threaded with grey in parts. 

"You have done that yourself, General, thanks to your love of bloodshed and the battlefield."

Marcus rolls his eyes. "Only a stulte would think my strategy anything other than necessary."

"If you insist," you say rolling your eyes, clearly disbelieving. 

"Return the weapon."

Marcus is strong, he is quick and you will have to submit to him. There is little else to do, aside from throwing yourself out the window behind you. The thought of that horrible childish man being your husband makes you seriously consider it.

You can't help it, thoughts of being his wife, of being tethered to such a man disgusts you. You would more readily marry Marcus Acacius if you had to. At least the man had honour and dignity.

And then all at once the answer is clear to you. You drop the knife onto the floor, hearing it clatter as you spin and throw yourself towards the large open window. 

Your feet slap against the stone floor as you fling yourself towards the open air. The realization that before you die you will know what it is to fly. 

Marcus is on you almost immediately, grabbing you around the middle before you can tumble to outside. He yanks you back, tackling your unwilling body to the ground. He pins your hands to the ground. You attempt to wrench from his grip, squirming under him. 

"Stop these foolish games."

"It is no game," you shout. "It is my life! I will choose if I live or die!" 

All at once Marcus is very aware that you are not the child he once saw in the halls or at events. The child and then teenager he found so grating with her questions that he took to ignoring her. 

"Still yourself."

You wriggle in his grip like a worm. As you do your hips graze his cock and he's shocked to find a stab of arousal hit him. 

It's as if for the first time he sees that you've become a woman. A beautiful one at that, all soft curves and kissable mouth. He stares at the damp plump of your lips and realizes that he's growing hard under his toga. 

He throws himself off of you, hunched over until he gets to the window. You're rubbing your wrists, completely unaware of what happened as you stand, glaring at him. 

"It is what is fated," Marcus barks at you. 

"How easy for you to say!" You scoff disgusted. "Tomorrow I will be the wife of a childish boor who would rather chase cock than spend a moment with me. Rome will be safe for a time, yes, but at the cost of my entire being. And you, General Acacius, will go on living your life free of restraint." 

"I come with my own shackles, believe me."

"And what is that? Too much coin for wine? Too many prostrating followers who blindly obey you?"

"A wife who married me for my title. Two stepsons with the combined intelligence of a pomegranate seed.” Marcus shakes his head. "You act as if everyone may rule their destiny but true freedom is granted to only the few." 

He can see the fight leave your body. 

But he knows you’re still upset. He moves over to your desk, needing a break from your smoldering glare. The parchment you were working on earlier sits there, writing unfinished. Marcus takes a scroll in hand, squinting down at it. 

"What are these?" 

You rush over, your face red as you rip the scroll from his hands. 

"Nothing!"

Seeing your weakness Marcus holds it up out of reach, a childish grin on his face as you leap up, trying to grasp them. But it's no use, he's taller, stronger and you fall back, defeated. 

“Tell me and I will return it to you.”

"They are poems," you mutter exasperatedly, feeling shy.

"Your own?"

"Yes."

"I wonder what about," Marcus says and he reaches into the desk to find several more scrolls. "What dress to wear to the market? How best to complain about having everything?" 

Marcus takes them in hand, a sneer evident in his face as you reach for them again.

“You promised!”

“As you promised your fidelity to the prince.”

“My father promised him. I promised him nothing.”

Marcus lets out a small huff before turning his back to you. You can see him unrolling the scroll, beginning to read.  You watch him, feeling both furious and anxious. These are some of your innermost thoughts that he’s reading.

There is a long bout of silence. You watch his broad shoulders sag, his hand flipping the page over and continuing to read. He does this through several sheets until you can't stand it anymore. 

"Give it here!"

You pause with your hand on his elbow. He's solemn, but that's not what shocks you. It's the tears that he wipes quickly away with his free hand. 

"Are you---"

"No."

You step backwards, your hands falling to your sides. You have known the general since you were a child of thirteen. Over ten years you have been in his company and only now have you seen him lose his composure. 

As a child you were convinced he didn't feel true emotions. He was always this tall, impressively stoic figure. You never spoke to him outside of your father's company. You only heard everyone talk of his skills on the battlefield, of his keen mind. The only time he truly emoted in front of you was when he ripped you from the warm embrace of the olive tree, forcing you back to your boring life. Hissing at you that you were ungrateful for all you'd been given. 

"This is very beautiful," he admits in a voice dragged over sand. "The way you describe death is very," he searches for the word. "Vivid." 

"Thank you," you reply dumbstruck. 

You've never received praise for you writing outside your friends. So to receive it in the form of your current enemy is more than a little shocking. Marcus has no allegiance to you, in fact, his response is so genuine because you know he's fighting against his inner desire to chastise or condemn. 

Seeing this hulk of a man with tears still damp along his waterline has you softening everywhere. He's looking at the pages and then back at you. 

"Have you any others?"

"Yes," you nod.

"All on the same theme?"

"A variety."

"May I see?" 

You walk to your writing table, pulling out the parchment you hide from prying eyes and pass them into his outstretched hands. You wait with your lower lip lodged under your top teeth, your fingers twisting together. You don't know why but you crave to know what he's thinking. 

You don't need to wait very long. 

"It is clear there are limitations to your skills."

He has the familiar arrogant expression on his face as he says this. You bristle sharply at his words and he notices. 

"You write of death, you write of jealousy, you write of fear,"' he says. "All of these you compose with obvious talent, with a voice I feel here." 

He taps the centre of his chest before he holds up some of the pages you laboured on. 

"But these? The poems of love, of desire? They feel false."

You take a moment to digest what he's saying. He's treating you like an equal, as if you're someone who can take the criticism. It propels you to explain instead of running away in embarrassment. 

"People want poetry to transcend them, to deliver them somewhere beautiful. How else to do that other than with poems on such topics?"

He holds up the pages. 

"It clearly does not come naturally."

"It is a challenge at times."

"You write of loss with such acuity," Marcus explains. "Why then do you describe the action between a man and woman so stiffly?"

"I have experience with loss."

Marcus stares at you, surprised.

As the daughter of the emperor he'd just assumed you'd have your fair share of romances. You're a beautiful woman and if you were anyone else but the Emperor's daughter he might have pursued you himself. 

You feel his gaze trained on you and you walk to the fire. The flames reflect in your eyes as Marcus continues to watch you. You swallow your embarrassment and look over your shoulder at him. 

"Will you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"What I am to expect on my wedding night." 

Marcus lets the scroll fall from his hand onto the stone floor. At the sound of its contact he shakes himself, retrieving them and placing them on your desk. 

"You have not known the touch of a man?"

With cheeks stained in embarrassment you shake your head. 

"I have not. The life of the privileged daughter isn't one that allows for entanglements," you sigh. "I fear for what awaits me."

Marcus thinks of your future husband, a man who doesn't want any part of you. You'll wither on the vine, ripened and juicy and waiting. 

What a waste. 

"I cannot," Marcus says. "I am simply here to ensure you do not flee."

"Perhaps I will not flee if I know what is to occur."

Marcus sighs and strides towards you. You watch as he pulls over one of the chairs you had at the window, placing it across from the chair you sit in before the fire. 

"You will be wed; there will be the wedding celebration with most of Rome at your unity. Then he will take you to his chamber." 

You lick your suddenly dry lips. 

"I am no fool. I know what the day’s events will be, General. I want to know what happens in consummation."

Marcus inhales deeply. He can feel himself growing stiff. You are a delectable thing, forbidden in so many ways. He itches to touch your skin and taste your cunt. 

"He will, he will press his mouth to yours."  

"Show me."

"No."

"Please," you beg, coming to stand closer to him. "Once I know what is to come I will feel more able to conquer this fear I feel."

Marcus debates this as he stares at you. And it's his cock that does the thinking for him when he steps closer to you. 

Marcus sighs heavily through his aquiline nose. You hold your breath as he grips the back of your neck, like you're a bothersome kitten. Holding you there he lowers his face to yours, grazing your lips with his. 

You coo gently at the sensation, your nipples hardening as he wraps his arms around you. He's so broad, so muscular, you feel so vulnerable and yet safe in his arms. 

You cling to him, body immediately wrapping around his, pressing so tightly to him that you feel everything. Your hips roll against his and you shudder pleasantly when you feel his breathing hitch. 

"More," you beg. Marcus groans, his large hands coming to cup and knead your breasts as his tongue invades your mouth. 

He's murdered men, he's plotted army overtaking, and he’s attacked the unarmed, but touching and kissing the virgin daughter of the emperor? This is the most corrupt thing he's ever done. 

And you're so desperate for him, no hesitation in any part of you. You just allow him to plunder your body, his mouth moving down your jaw to your neck and then the barely concealed valley of your breasts. 

His hands move around your body, pressing and caressing and skimming until they land at your backside. You kiss him fervently, feeling his palms tug you against his hard cock.

You whimper, eyes rolling back as the two of you grind against one another. It feels so sinfully good to do such a thing. 

"That is enough," Marcus says stiffly, pulling back from you when you make that sound. He looks at your swollen lips and dazed expression. 

"Please, show me everything," you whisper. "Teach me." 

Marcus has a fairly good idea that your wedding night is going to be brief and awful. The least he could do is give you some pleasure before you're thrust into a lifetime of timid touches and non-existent intimacy. 

Just once, a sinful voice whispers. Fuck her just once to see how it feels. 

"I cannot." 

You feel insecurity wind its way around your ribs before tugging brutally. Its clear Marcus does not find you handsome enough to tempt him or he still sees you as a child. In humiliation you turn from him and take a seat before the fire once more. Your shoulder sag as you gaze down at your clasped fingers on your lap. 

You hear Marcus sigh from the window before you sense his approach. He comes to sit in the chair opposite you, his gaze so serious. 

"It would be wrong."

"But I desire it."

"It would be dishonourable." 

"Please," you beg him again, finally raising your head. "My entire life you have been there for me, coming to my aid. And now I turn to you for the final time, General. Please help me." 

"I cannot do it."

"But why?" You demand now, knowing that your patience is wearing thin. "Give me one true reason." 

He lifts his muscular frame out of the chair, crossing until he gets to you. You gaze up the length of him, not flinching when he drops to his knees between your parted thighs. 

Marcus tilts forward until his body nears yours, his hands on either side of your chair arms. His body is so warm, so broad. You fight the urge to touch his chest as his swollen mouth brushes your ear. 

"Because if I were to start, it would take the entirety of the Emperor's army to stop." 

You blink slowly, your eyes trailing over his face and body. Your entire body is fizzy, like lightning is coursing through your veins instead of blood. 

"I would pull you apart," Marcus hums against your skin. "I would draw noises from you that you cannot begin to imagine. I would have you shaking and begging for more and I would continue."

You can't breathe. 

“I would fill you with my seed, marking your womb as mine. I would do it over and over until I was spent, only to do it all again at dawn." 

Marcus groans softly, his dark eyes scanning down your toga to the swell of your breasts. 

"And even then I would not be able to cease," Marcus says as he squeezes your breasts through your toga. "I would train your mouth, your cunt, every hole you possess in the ways of pleasure. All would be mine, nothing left for another." 

You stare at him, unblinking.

"And so you see why I must refrain," he finishes huskily. "Why I cannot give you what you believe you desire."

When did he go from the scowling general to a real man with such a filthy mouth? You’re quivering all over, desperate for him to be even closer. Your eyes drop to his full mouth, aching to feel it again.

"What if that is what I crave? What if I have no desire for you to cease?"

Your fingers go to his, pulling one hand under your toga, leading him up between your silken thighs. Marcus allows it, eyes on you but his hand inching towards your centre. 

"You do not know what you ask."

"Show me, Marcus," you whisper, your mouth nearing his. "Make me yours if only for tonight."

Your lips slot between his, kissing with uncertainty as your hands go to the buttons at his shoulder. His fingers are slowly teasing your entrance as he stares at you. 

You arch as his thumb begins to circle your clit, his long fingers starting to nudge your liquid heat. 

Marcus knows that every inch of you he touches is another year in the pit if he's discovered. You are the most forbidden fruit in Rome. Yet he continues to slide two fingers to the knuckle into your core, curling them as you cry out for him. 

At the sharp sound of your cry he withdraws his fingers, glossy with slick. He stands, needing to clear his head. He feels your confused gaze on his back. 

"I cannot defile you before your wedding," he explains. "Your chastity is of the utmost importance." 

"The slaves tell me of ways to circumvent such an issue," you tell him as the cape he wears falls to the ground. 

He watches you untie his toga, urging it from his body until he stands there in nothing but his gladiator sandals. 

He is truly a sight to behold. Golden, muscled, captivating in the same way blood along knuckles shine in sunlight. You take your time to walk around him, admiring the tight taut of his ass, the breadth of his wide shoulders littered with scars and the curls that tease the bottom of his neck. 

You save his front for last, taking your time to watch the trail of hair move from his navel downward. 

His cock is hard, thick and heavy. It weeps at the tip, already so eager. It hangs there; too large for you to imagine entering you as you reach out and touch it. He hisses at the first point of contact. 

He watches as you carefully touch him, marvelling at the iron of his cock until the silk of his skin. You trace the vein on the underside, trailing it from the base to just below the mushroom head. 

You slide down to your knees, fascinated. Amilius has spoken to you of men when you’ve asked.  She has been married and has a child. You know a bit of what men like but only in theory. You lift your eyes up to see Marcus staring down at you with a heated gaze. Your hands go to his thighs, gently resting there. 

You grin before leaning forward and placing the sweetest peck to the tip of his manhood.  

Marcus growls softly in the back of his throat. His eyes close briefly before opening, looking darker than before. You watch as he takes his cock in hand, gripping it by the base and pulling it towards you. 

You part your lips, ready to take him on your tongue and are surprised when instead he drags the tip along your bottom lip, leaving a trail off pre-cum there. You lick the remnants, curious at the salty taste. He watches you with increasing interest. 

"Irrumabo," Marcus murmurs, his cock tapping against the full of your bottom lip. "Yes?"

You nod, opening your jaw. Marcus smiles, thumb tracing the curve of your mouth. 

"Not tonight," Marcus says as he shakes his head, bringing you to a gentle stand. "Tonight is your pleasure." 

He tugs the gown from your body, letting the silk pool on the ground beside you. You shiver under his gaze, noticing his length which twitches. 

Marcus feels his breath leave him as your nude body is bared to him. You look so innocent there, waiting for him, gazing nervously at him through your lashes. 

"Goddess," Marcus hisses, his hands coming to cup your breasts. "I am a condemned man for even looking at you."

He lowers his head eagerly, nipping and licking your nipples as you cling to him, urging him to take more as you arch your spine. 

"Marcus, please more," you moan. 

Unceremoniously he pushes you back to sit in your chair, your legs splayed in surprise. He drops to his knees, moving your legs to hook over his wide shoulders. You allow this, your body limp and eager to be posed by his strong arms and hands.

He looks up to see you panting, staring down the length of your body at his face between your legs. Without breaking eye contact Marcus dips forward and licks a stripe up the centre of your sex. 

Your eyes immediately shut as pleasure ripples through you. His wide hands grip your creamy thighs, holding them in place as he continues to probe his tongue deeper into your channel. 

Your hands grope the air around you fruitlessly. You don't know what to do with them. Marcus notices and he takes your wrists between his grips, forcing them to card through his hair. 

He goes back to sucking your clit and you feel your hips buck. Your fingers dig into his skull, holding the curls and you understand why he placed them there. 

"Harder," he tells you sharply as he peppers your inner thighs with sweet kisses. You tug harder on his curls and he groans softly in approval. 

You make a shuddering noise of pleasure and it dies in your throat as he pulls back from you. His eyes are stormy as he looks up the length of you to give you a disapproving shake of his head. 

"Silence, cherub. We do not need the guards coming to investigate your shrieks." 

You nod breathlessly, clapping a hand over your mouth as he continues. The sounds are muffled against your palm as he brings his hands to slide under your ass, pulling your sex deeper into his mouth as he consumes you, groaning into your cunt when you cum. 

"Marcus!" 

"Quiet," he reminds you between licks. 

As you sit there in the chair he brings you to a second steady orgasm, revelling in the muffled yips you make when you begin to writhe against his face, coating him in your essence. When your shuddering ends Marcus slowly withdraws his tongue from your cunt, gazing up at you with a dazed look.

"My husband will do this to me?" You pant; your body shiny with perspiration. "It was so pleasant. I felt the sun within my body." 

Marcus remains on his knees, his mouth glistening with your arousal. He gives you a pitying look, knowing full well that your husband to be likely won't see you past your wedding night. 

The thought enrages him as he sits there, cheek against your thigh as you give him that hopeful expression.

"No," Marcus finally admits. "I believe his actions will be more perfunctory." 

You frown.

"How? Show me."

"You ask too much."

"Yes, I do," you admit with no hesitation or embarrassment. 

Marcus gives you a calculating look before standing. You sigh, waiting for him to leave when he crouches down beside your chair, sliding his hands behind your back and under your knees and hoists you into his arms. 

"I will give you what you desire," he tells you gently. "I can deny you nothing." 

"You have denied me much over the years," you remind him with mirth. "When I tried to see the Gladiators fight and you pulled me from that olive tree?"

"And I never heard the end of it. Imagine denying this request? You'd have me hanged."

You give a shy giggle before lacing your fingers behind his neck, your mouth finding his with ease as he carries you to the bed. 

The two of you lay in the twisted blankets of the bed, bodies gleaming with sweat. Marcus did exactly as he promised. For hours he took you apart, forcing you to come on his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You took him at every turn, eyes shut and your mouth covered by his palm or his lips. 

And now that the dreamy haze bleeds into reality you find yourself frowning. Marcus, with his arms holding your body to his notices immediately. 

"What troubles you?" 

“Tomorrow I will be another man's wife," you say with tears in your eyes. "Rome will be saved for a time but at what cost? I'll never feel pleasure like this again. I'll never have you in my bed again."

Marcus feels a pull behind his ribs, and he leans forward to kiss you gently. You respond, your tears damp on his cheeks.

"Your lessons will continue," Marcus promises, kissing behind your ear. "I will make sure of it." 

"My husband--"

"Will be thankful when you are with child," Marcus tells you in a hush, his hand curving over your stomach. "My child."

Your eyes are luminous. 

"After your wedding night he will not come to your chambers," he promises. "But I will. I will drink the nectar between your legs and I will spill myself down your throat. I will have you everywhere and when we pass in public although there are no words to be uttered you will know I think only of you. That I am yours and you are mine."

He wipes away your tears with his large thumbs before pulling your mouth to his. You fall asleep in his arms, the sensation of his body there to protect you through the night. 

Marcus stirs the next morning to the sound of birds outside the window; it's cheerful and bright as the sun that hangs high in the sky. 

It feels right that your wedding day should be beautiful when you yourself are so exquisite. 

Marcus feels his cock hardening immediately at memories of last night. Of the sounds you made and the way you felt. He looks forward to a life with you, even if it must be in secret. You are something special, something like freedom.

He cracks open his eye to take in your sleeping face, but your side of the bed is empty. A scroll is there beside him in the empty bed instead, his name written. With a panic in his heart he unrolls it, finding a lock of your hair tied with a ribbon inside. He takes it, pressing his lips against it as he reads the words from your hand. 

Carissamus General. I know that as you read this you will think me a villain, but I promise that my words were true and my body forever yours. Please understand why I could not possibly allow another to touch me. Freedom is for those who take it. I leave you a piece of me in exchange for the piece of you I will carry in my heart. I owe you everything and perhaps in the next life we will have the future you dream of. Until then I wish you the same joy and pleasure you gave me. With all my love, and all that I am. 

Marcus reads the beautiful words over and over. They spin around his skull as he dresses, pulling on his toga and cloak. But instead of anger in his expression he smiles serenely. 

He's always enjoys a good chase. 

Well I’ll be damned! 😮‍💨🥵 This was delicious!

The nap

0k8 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: you wake up after a nap, and use Joel to get off Warnings: 18+ mdni. Established relationship, somnophilia, dirty talk, piv, creampie

a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but can be read alone I had another fic in mind for them, but here we go Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕😘 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

You woke up in the afternoon after a nap. Joel's cock was still inside you after he fucked you thoroughly, lying against your back, breathing and covering your skin with kisses. And you both fell asleep.

When you moved slowly, his cock twitched inside you, and grew slightly. Slick ran down between your thighs, as you felt him swell against your walls. Slowly, you moved back and forth to feel his shaft harden. It throbed, taking its natural place between your folds. Gradually filling your pussy.

It felt good and so hot, that effect you had on him. To take advantage of him.

Joel had fucked you in your sleep countless times. But for some reason, you never used him while he was asleep. You knew he’d love it.

Your wetness was now covering his cock, the heat from his chest warming your bare back. You kept moving, slowly, very gently, so as not to wake him. You felt his cum dripping down to your thigh. A moan escaped your lips and you stopped for a few moments.

Feeling him grow inside you as he was sleeping made you shiver, and you held yourself back from fucking yourself harder on his shaft. To give your pussy what it was begging for. You breathed slowly to calm the fire, the desire and the need inside you, before resuming the roll of your hips. He was fully hard now, his shaft tight between your soaked walls.

“Can’t get enough of that cock, mmm, sweetheart?”

You stopped when you heard him, wondering how long he had been awake.

“Don't stop,” he said in a firm voice. “You wanna fuck me, baby? Come on then, fuck me.”

A new moan escaped your lips and you started sliding down his cock again. Harder. Your fist that had been clenched against the pillow released it, and your hand slid down to your crotch. Until he firmly grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t. You’re gonna come on my cock, without touching yourself.”

“Joel! Please, I don’t know if I can...”

“Keep moving, baby. Let your pussy feel it. She knows what to do.”

He pinned your wrist against your lower back and pulled away slightly to watch his cock disappear into your pussy. It was glistening, soaked with his cum and your arousal.

“God, you’re beautiful. It’s so hot, to watch you use me to get off.”

You whimpered, gliding on his shaft, listening to your sensations.

“Yeah, just like that. Use me, baby. Use my cock.”

He pressed his chest against you, and kept your wrist between you two. Feeling his whole body against yours always intoxicated you, and your pussy squeezed his shaft.

“She wants to come, sweetheart, I can feel it. Always so fucking needy.”

He growled. His nose was pressed to your ear and you could hear his heavy breathing, even if he was trying to calm it down.

Seized by a sudden impatience, as if it forced itself upon him, he thrust all the way in and pressed his pelvis against your ass, before letting you control the pace again. His cock was brushing against your g spot with each of your thrusts.

“Shit. That's good, baby. It turns me on to see you fuck yourself on my shaft. Couldn’t wait uh? No matter how many times I fuck you, you always want me in your cunt.”

“Yeah… yeah. Always need to feel your fat cock filling me.”

“Yeah? Until you come on it and milk it. She's gonna come soon, baby. She's screaming for it. You feel it coming?” He nibbled at your shoulder, making you whine, and his hand tightened on your wrist.

“Yeah, I… Fuck, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come.”

“I know, sweetheart. Come on, soak me. I want you to drool on my cock and balls. Come on, baby.” 

His words were the last thing you needed to come and your pussy clenched on his shaft. He kissed your neck as chills ran through your body, before trailing the kisses down your skin to your shoulder blade, his soft mustache making you shiver.

“Fuck, yeah… Always such a good girl for me. Don't stop moving, sweetheart. Keep fucking me until you dry my balls.”

You kept moving and his breathing quickened again. He let go of your wrist and gripped your hips.

“Shit. I need to fuck you. Can I fuck you, baby? Hard?”

“Yeah, use me, Joel. Take what you need.”

“Fuck…”

His fingers dug into your flesh as yours gripped the sheets. He began thrusting in, fucking your pussy with hard, deep strokes. Then faster, chasing his orgasm, growling, his nose brushing your back. His hand squeezed the back of your neck and used it as leverage, while the other was still holding onto your hip. Your moans grew louder, slowly turning into groans.

“Gonna fill you up”, he growled. “Oh fuck… fuck!” he grunted, as his cum started filling the depths of your pussy. He didn't release you until both of you caught your breath.

“Jesus, sweetheart… can’t believe you never used me like that before. Need you to do this again, as many times as you want.“

Same couple: 5 days collection

Thank you for reading 🙏

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@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

Straight up adorable! That ending gave me a toothache 🥹

Interrupted

18+ account - minors do not interact

joel miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2K

Rating: E

Summary: You and Joel think you are sneaking in some alone time, but your steamy session is interrupted by your daughters barging in at the worst possible moment.

Warning: fluff, language, flirting, pet names, smutty flashbacks (oral sex – f receiving, spanking, unprotected p in v sex), oral sex (m – receiving), mentions of sex shop and adult toys, praise, dirty talk, fucking softnessss

A/N: I don't know if I've ever posted something on a Sunday. Forgive me lord for I have sinned with publishing smut today 💁🏽‍♀️ — This literally exists because of Kyla – she shared some wonderful stories about her and Mr. Enduring with me and was kind enough to let me use it as inspiration… I hope you like this my beautiful queen.

@survivingandenduring

xx

As you slowly opened your eyes, you felt a dull ache between your thighs, and a contented smile spread across your face as you remembered last night.

It was Saturday night and Sarah and Ellie both had sleepovers with their friends. Joel had walked through the door carrying bags of Chinese takeout.

"Hey darlin’, got your favorite," he said with a smile, placing the containers in front of you.  

You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him, thanking him for dinner. You decided to put on a movie and enjoy your meal together in front of the TV, but as you cuddled up on the couch, things quickly took a turn.

The screen was soon forgotten as his lips found their way to your neck, his warm breath sending waves of desire through you. His hands started roaming over your body, and before you knew it, you were kissing passionately, and your clothes quickly came off in a frenzy of desire.

"Fuck the movie," he groaned, his voice low and husky. "I wanna taste you,"

As he went down on you, you couldn't help but moan in pleasure, your hands gripping the cushions of the couch. "Oh god, that feels so good," you gasped, your body arching with each flick of his tongue.

"You taste so good, baby," he murmured against your cunt, sending you spiraling into your orgasm minutes later.

Once you recovered, you straddled him, your movements desperate and eager. He guided himself inside of you, causing you to gasp with pleasure. "Fuck, you feel amazin’… this fuckin’ pussy," he growled, his hands gripping your hips as you started bouncing on his cock.

Your moans filled the room as he spanked your ass, driving you wild with each smack. "Harder," you begged, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. With Sarah and Ellie out of the house, you wanted to take advantage, since you both never allowed yourselves to let him spank you when they were home out of fear that they would hear you, since you were terribly loud. He obliged, delivering even harder spanks that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your arousal grew with each strike, your need for more building within you. You arched your back, presenting yourself for his punishment, craving the delicious sting of his hand on your skin. The sound of his palm meeting your flesh echoed in the room.

"Oh, fuck yes," you cried out, the pleasure building inside of you. "You’re so fucking deep Joel, so deep,”

"That’s it, baby. Take it for me, I know you can," he urged, his own release near. With one final deep thrust, you felt your body explode with pleasure as you reached your peak, screaming his name as you rode out your orgasm. Joel followed soon after, his own release washing over him as he buried himself deep inside of you. Breathless and spent, you collapsed against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you.

"Fuck, that felt good," he panted, pulling you close in a sweaty embrace, the room filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the lingering scent of sex.

As you laid in bed next to Joel, your mind wandered to the challenges of parenthood. It seemed like just yesterday that you two were carefree and able to indulge in spontaneous intimacy before you had kids. But now, with teenagers in the house, a 16-year-old and a 14-year-old, finding time for each other had become a constant juggling act.

There were some years that were harder than others, where sex had felt like it was only happening on special occasions. The nights when Sarah and Ellie were very young and refused to sleep, the days when Joel was working grueling 14-hour shifts at Miller Construction – it felt almost impossible to prioritize your relationship amidst the chaos of family life and sleep deprivation. You were a professor at UT Austin and there were days when balancing your career, being a wife, and being a mother just felt fucking hard. You always felt like you and Joel were running around working, carpooling, attending one of Sarah’s soccer games, or cheering on Ellie at her music recitals.

You both had lost yourselves a bit when the girls were younger, but thankfully, you and Joel had found your groove again in the last few years and felt like yourselves again. You two had learned to steal moments of connection whenever you could, even if it meant stealing away to the bedroom during a rare quiet moment. You had learned to communicate openly and honestly about your needs and desires, making sure to carve out time for each other amidst the demands of everyday life.

You watched Joel sleep peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The lines on his face showed the years he had lived, but they only added to his rugged charm. Your gaze roamed over his toned arms and broad shoulders; hands calloused from years of labor; muscles defined from years of construction work. You couldn't help but admire the way the morning light played across his features, highlighting his mouth and the curve of his jaw.

As you continued to watch him, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you marveled at how he seemed to only get better with age, growing more and more attractive with time. You knew every inch of him, every crease and scar, and you loved him all the more for it.

He was the sexiest man alive in your eyes, and you couldn't imagine anyone else even coming close.

He slowly stirred from sleep, and you watched as his eyes fluttered open, revealing a hint of drowsiness that slowly gave way to recognition.

Joel blinked a few times, adjusting to the light filtering in through the curtains, before turning his gaze to meet yours. He reached out a hand to gently brush your cheek, his touch warm and comforting.

"Good mornin’, baby,” he murmured, and leaned in to plant kisses all over your face and neck, making you giggle and squirm with delight.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?" you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled and pulled you closer, whispering in your ear, "I could never get enough of y’a. I wanna fuck you again, right now,"

You smirked and pushed him away playfully. "Well, you better catch me first…" With that, you disappeared under the covers, eager to give him a morning surprise.

"Damn, baby, you're so good at that," he groaned as you took him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, bobbing up and down.

You hummed in response, enjoying the way he gasped and squirmed beneath you. “Love you in my mouth," you murmured, feeling his hands grip the sheets in pleasure.

He moaned and tangled his fingers in your hair, urging you on with a string of profanities and praises and you felt your wetness pooling between your thighs. "Fuck, you’re doin’ so well," he groaned, you could feel his arousal building, his hips lifting off the bed to meet your mouth as he moaned your name. You took more of him in your mouth as his cock hit the back of your throat and you felt tears start to gather near your eyes, it didn’t matter how many times you did this, he was so big.

“Oh yes, keep doin’ that,” he begged, his words becoming more desperate. “You look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ me down that tight little throat,” his voice strained with need, and he tightened the grip on your hair. You both were so lost in the moment, and before you could continue, the bedroom door suddenly burst open and in walked in your two daughters. They froze in shock, their eyes wide with horror as they took in the scene before them. Thankfully you were still under the covers, and they couldn't see Joel's... friend.

"Mom! Dad! Oh my God!" Ellie shrieked, covering her eyes with her hands.

Sarah gagged. "Ew, gross! Can't you guys lock the door or something?"

Joel’s face flushed crimson as he stammered. "What the hell?! Can't you guys knock?!" he exclaimed, pulling the sheets up to cover himself. Why were they here so early? They had said they would be getting dropped off in the afternoon; it was only 10 AM.

You came up from under the sheets, but not completely so that you wouldn’t flash your daughters. "Oh, uh, I dropped my wedding ring," you stammered, trying to think of an excuse. "I was just looking for it under here,”

"You’re making it worse Mom!" Sarah said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You guys can't be doing this, you're like too old. Dad could have a heart attack,” her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Too old? How fuckin’ old do you think I am?” Joel snapped, his voice cracked as he glared at them.

“Girls, um, let’s give your father and me a moment to… uh, get dressed,” you said completely mortified.

Ellie crossed her arms, her eyes wide. “Mom, seriously? Ugh, I'm going to go bleach my eyes,"

Joel’s face turned a deeper shade of red, and he fumbled with the sheets and mumbled, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

"Like your father said, you two need to knock before you come into our room," you scolded, covering yourself with the sheets.

This would be a memory that would haunt family dinners for years to come.

Sarah and Ellie quickly exited the room, and you knew they wouldn’t be unable to erase the image from their minds. Once they were out of earshot, Joel turned to you with pleading eyes, "We've scarred them for life,"

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the situation. "Let's start saving money for their therapy fund,"

xx

It probably took an hour before you and Joel finally went downstairs to have an uncomfortable conversation with your daughters. It probably took a week before the girls finally forgot about it and Joel could finally look them in the eyes. It probably took a year before Ellie accidentally opened up an email on your phone from an adult store and saw your order for a clit stimulator set and some lube, and you two just agreed to never talk about it.

Little did you know that 10 years down the road on Sarah’s wedding day, she would stand with you for a quiet moment before the ceremony. She took a deep breath, her eyes filled with emotion, and began to speak.

“Mom, I have to tell you something,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. “Remember that one time in high school when Ellie and I accidentally walked in on you and Dad… you know, being intimate. It was so gross at the time,” she laughed softly, shaking her head. “But looking back, I realize how special it was to see that you two still had that spark, that love.”

You smiled; a bit embarrassed but understanding.

“Seeing you and Dad so in love, even after all these years, showed me what a real, beautiful marriage looks like. It wasn’t just about the romance; it was about the partnership, the support, and the ups and downs you had,”

She took your hands in hers, squeezing them gently. “I hope my marriage will be as beautiful as yours. Thank you for showing me what love truly looks like. I wouldn’t be here today, ready to start this new chapter, without your example,”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes and pulled her into a tight embrace, wanting to hold your baby girl for a moment longer, both feeling the weight and beauty of the day ahead.

Later that night, Joel would make love to you and tell you how lucky he was that you were his best friend and that he wouldn’t want to do this ‘crazy thing called life’ without you.

xx

Tagging some folks that engaged in my WIP Wednesday for this one-shot: @sawymredfox, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30, @luxurychristmaspudding, @pilotispunk

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

the entire fandom seeing pedro as reed teaching a science class