#I'm honored to be witness of that
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I can say it now even if it's a bit late
But here's end this year's aftermare (a bit longer) week!
@nothotfish (day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5-6, 7)
You were new to it and you did awesomely! Traditional and digital paintings, crossover, animatics!!!! What a splendid diversity!
@orange-dreamzer (day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)
You dived in with enthousiasm and all the fun in your heart, drawing what you like! That's the spirit ;3 Splatoon crossover, funny lil' jokes, specific aesthetic... You even drew my babies and made an animation! <3
@zu-is-here (day 1, 2, 3, 4-5, 6, 7)
You made absolutly fabulous art of my fic and my heart warmed with each. You get lil' kisses on the forehead for this. I am going to put them in my chapters with the others >:3c
(slight spoilers of my fic in these (≧▽≦) )
@dragon-tamer-1 (day 1, 6)
You might not have show us many days but they were all mighty! A cool unexpected crossover taking the platonic road and a (quite big) writing of another plot idea of these two uwu Awesome!
@amarald (day 2, 3, 5)
You had fun with pixel art this year and shared your (poetic) thoughts. Simplicity didn't stop you from creating great pieces! Symbolic and videogames style were on your side this year ;3c
Thanks for participating! I loved what you had to show us ^^
You were so creative, I can't be prouder of that!
Geno!Sans belongs to loverofpiggies Nightmare belongs to jokublog
Of course, even if the week ended, late arts are no problem! The prompts won't move, anybody can use them whenever they want uwu (and I'll reblog it if tagged ;P)
Fun and peace in my house
#Haha sorry my reblogging was a bit chaotic#me doing artz#my gifs#aftermare#aftermare week#aftermare week 2024#Nightmare#Geno!Sans#waaa you all' poured so much heart in all this#I'm honored to be witness of that#I did that gif very fast#lil' guys#I was waiting a bit before posting this :]c#if any of you do a late one I'll edit the list
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I love how Emma encouraged Dev to go for Minthara romance scene in Act 1 during Dev's stream, and both of their reactions when the explicit scene played out should be framed in a museum. "I'm worth it love" to "Oh my God!!" in the span of a few mins.
Meanwhile Dev's face turns RED in less than a min lol
#out of all the female companion Minthara definitely has the spiciest scene#I used my data to watch the stream I'm honored to witness that live#minthara#Emma Gregory#Devora Wilde#bg3 stream
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lesbian masterdoc and the unforgivable damage of making people hear compulsory heterosexuality and think of "can lesbians have crushes on men?" (no) instead of "are heterosexual women settling in unhappy marriages with men bellow their worth because of economic and social pressure?" (yes)
#not claiming the theory was without flaws but it sure didn't describe some virus mental affliction that exclusively plagues lesbians#for starters the theory was primarily about marriage. so it did recognise the historical fact of lesbians forced into marriage to avoid#honor killings and the still present possibility and threats especially when it comes to cults and strong religions#(once again mentioning as a Jeová's witness in a brazilian periphery my girlfriend accepted the tool of losing her entire family and social#circles to reject an arranged marriage at the age of 17. and she's bisexual. but THAT is what compulsory heterosexuality alludes to)#but more often than not when it addressed lesbians it was as the inherent threat they pose to heteropatriarchy#that they mere existence proved women were not all born to serve men. and that their lives often proved women are much happier and#accomplished when away from the burden of men.#and this acknowledging just how much loneliness was a reality through lesbian's experiences#at the same time I can understand the frustration of that feminist theory being reduced to 'comphet is when lesbians in high school were#pressured into picking one of the Backstreet Boys to lie about finding attractive'. and even more so when that non universal and much less#serious example somehow morphed into 'comphet is when bisexual women either lying or confused about being lesbians have sex with men and#find it unfulfilling' because accepting that narrative erases and harms lesbians#so I understand the 'comphet isn't real' posts especially because written like that it tends to refer to lesbian masterdoc and following#fiasco. but at the same time that wasn't the original intent of compulsory heterosexuality the actual feminist term#this is just me complaining about how social media butchers theory tho unless they are specifically naming Rich and the many other feminist#who wrote about heterosexual marriage as an institution I won't bother lesbians for venting frustration about neoliberal erasure of lesbian#the original theory sure didn't claim lesbians were immune to all this misogynistic violence but the term was never exclusively about them#and tended to ask more of 'where do we stand as women and feminists as a group much more interested in destroying heterosexual marriage than#simply making it more bearable?'#this got a little messy and senseless I'm tired#.txt
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are there any books you'd recommend for Isabelle of Angouleme?
Hi! I’m really not an expert on Isabella of Angouleme so I'm probably not the best person to ask for recommendations for her. Here are some I've heard of, though I haven't read all of them:
"Isabella of Angouleme: John's Jezebel" by Nicholas Vincent (King John: New Interpretations). I haven't read it myself but I've heard good things!
“Maternal Abandonment and Surrogate Caregivers: Isabella of Angoulême and Her Children by King John” by Louise J. Wilkinson (Virtuous or Villainess? The Image of the Royal Mother from the Early Medieval to the Early Modern Era). It focuses more-so on Isabella's tenure as queen, the period shortly after John's death, and her decision to leave England. Despite what the title may imply, it's sympathetic to Isabella and analyzes her situation in detail.
“Co-Operation, Co-Rulership and Competition: Queenship in the Angevin Domains 1135-1230” by Gabrielle Storey, her PHD thesis which collectively focuses on Isabella of Angouleme along with Empress Matilda, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and Berengaria of Navarre. You can read/download it here, it's an excellent piece for all four women.
Sally Spong has written/is writing:
Isabella of Angouleme: The Vanished Queen (Norman to Early Plantagenet Consorts). You can see her conclusion here. It's nuanced and sympathetic, though not without its issues and pre-conceived notions.
Isabella of Gloucester and Isabella of Angouleme: Female Lordship, Queenship, Power, and Authority 1189-1220 (PHD thesis University of East Anglia).
“Isabelle d’Angouleme, By the Grace of God, Queen” by William Chester Jordan. You can read it online here, though I will say that it's ... very very questionable, accepting the sensational claims of lot of unreliable sources (including the idea of John abducting Isabella in a fit of uncontrollable infatuation) entirely at face-value.
“The Marriage and Coronation of Isabelle of Angouleme” by H.G. Richardson, available here on JSTOR.
Isabella has also been the subject of two complete French biographies till date:
"Isabelle d’Angoulême, reine d’Angleterre" (Aquitaine: 1998) by Sophie Fougere.
"Isabelle d’Angoulême, comtesse-reine et son temps (1186-1246)" [Actes du colloque tenu à Lusignan, 8 au 10 novembre 1996] by Gabriel Biancotto, Robert Favreau and Piotr Skubiszewski.
There are also a few blog posts about her (here and here) which may help if you want a brief overview of her life, though they can get a little sensationalistic sometimes.
Hope this helps! If anyone knows any others, please feel free to add on!
#I'm so sorry it took so long to answer! I'll add more if I find them#ask#Isabella of Angouleme#angevins#Sally Spong's chapter on Isabella is...complicated#It's detailed and sympathetic and I think it highlights some interesting aspects of Isabella's life#But it's also dependent on her own very fixed pre-conceived notions re Isabella's role as queen#Spong takes issue with other historians' observations about Isabella but...doesn't actually try to debunk the views herself?#It ends up seeming as though she's deliberately missing the point#And I think by reading things in the best possible light she ends up downplaying what may have been complicated experiences for Isabella#For example she disagrees with the idea that John was constraining Isabella's role by highlighting her ceremonial presence at court#But historians like Wilkinson HAVE highlighted this as well and emphasized how the 'ceremonial importance of Isabella's position as queen#consort and the dynastic significance of her maternity' were recognized and honored#But that does not discount or nullify the way Isabella's role does seem to have been constrained elsewhere by John#Namely her lack of control over her lands (many of which were granted away by John) and probable lack of access to queen's gold#Along with her absence from charters and the notable lack of prayers for her welfare save a single exception in 1204#Spong also disagrees with the idea that Isabella was excluded from her son's governance after John's death by highlighting her#presence at his coronation and (months later) at the peace talks between England and France#Which is - again - sort of missing the point??#*Yes* - Isabella's presence in both those occasions is certainly interesting and important when talking about her life#But that does not change the fact that Isabella seems to have been either remote or excluded from central government#She was not directing or working with the council in terms of governance but seems to have been at a distance from power#Which is made even more clear when we look at her charters: her witness lists were comprised of more or less politically insignificant#figures and included no men associated with her son's regency council#It's a striking contrast to the former roles that Empress Matilda and Eleanor of Aquitaine had for their sons#With those very dynamic precedents in place I do think Isabella's remoteness from her son's government is very notable#And I feel like that's...very important when discussing her decision to return to Angouleme?#But because Spong is keen to view Isabella's circumstances in the best light possible she sort of dismisses these discussions#& potential difficulties#It got rather frustrating to read
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as I'm going back over my past history and items and journals and years, I come across all sorts of things, like the pencil I saved from that so-precious memory from second grade, and a pair of flip flops I've been missing for two years, and [checks notes] the modern-high-school-AU-kidnapped-by-a-serial-killer story I wrote in late high school jdfsjdfsjkjlksfd
#i can't wait to find out what red flags I didn't see in my own self back when I last read this thing in 2015 hfdhfdhjsfd#also. there's gonna be like a good sentence here and there and then CRINGE. the whole rest of everything is just me still trying to copy th#breathing pace (essentially) and ways-of-describing-things of mainstream authors like I thought I was supposed to#so this'll be somewhat painful but also god what a joy and a gift and an honor and a delight to get to hold this close to my heart#and witness it with understanding and empathy and slow reflection and care like my past younger self deserves#i'm so lucky i'm alive to be here and do this#i'm so grateful i'm headed towards welcoming back and embracing the last little girl i was that still felt a lot of things#so excited for her focus and precision and tenacity and constant curious joy and movement to be back someday#i'm afraid people won't like the me i was before rule after rule and then dangers#but my god it'll feel so good to be the fully-flowing energy machine and dance and conduit again how will I have enough bother to care?#people who are good to each others' nervous systems cumulatively feel better and better#if i'm not good for you and yours then you really truly SHOULD go elsewhere and find someone who makes YOUR self feel right and light + war#anyway now that i wrote an essay in the tags as usual [nervous laughter]#personal#add to journal#words n rhythm#WHY DID I FEEL CAPABLE OF UNDERTAKING A STORY LIKE THIS#cradling my past self gently but also BANGING my HEAD against the WALL lmao#i'm proud of myself for writing and sharing this and its creative ideas. even if i don't like it now or feel ashamed or see mistakes.#anything. it mattered that it came to me and it mattered that i explored it and it mattered that i poured myself through it to help shape i#and it mattered that I left it on the internet so that now it still exists. i'm going to honor this story no matter what current me would#objectively think about it if it was written by anyone else.#this is a gift i give myself now.#this is a lot of what I learn and learn to do#trauma evolution#mosswrites
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yes yes hel has two mommies, the unbroken queen and the gentle manipulator.
not enough people talk about her two daddies though (the one who taught her better and the one who forced her to be worse)
#IN THE LESS METAPHORICAL...#thinking about how boda's kids being two beasts and then the death-aligned humanoid had a few in court side-eyeing odin's reaction to her -#to wit: mine was a death god before he took up his crown. what he gives hel is literally his former home base.#i'm just saying between the way he 'honors' her and given his dynamic with several fluid l0ki's....#there's probably a contingency that say that is his daughter outright.
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How would Gumball react to this image? :)
(assuming that you mean this in a /lh way)
i think Voidball would be flattered, considering most of their characterization is inspired by Megamind (and Nimona, to some extent) who would consider something like this a compliment
in fact, this sorta reminds me of that scene in Roxanne's apartment with all the hanging scraps of paper where she finally solves the big mystery... god i love Megamind its so good you should go watch it. why has this blog just become me telling you guys to go watch movies recently. what is wrong with me (its The Mucus)
#if you SOMEHOW haven't seen Megamind yet#go and watch it RIGHT NOW#(or whenever you have the chance)#i promise you will NOT regret it#its one of my favorite animated films probably ever#and it has one of the most well constructed narratives i have ever had the pleasure of witnessing and the honor of analyzing#yknow now that i've put them both side by side#Nimona and Megamind actually have a lot in common#both were placed in unfortunate positions when very young due to circumstances beyond their control#have an appearance which is deemed as “strange” or “menacing”#and regardless of their intentions-despite their best efforts-they are labelled by their society as a dangerous threat#an obstacle who serves no other purpose than to cause misery and destruction#someone who can only be defeated by a brave noble and (most importantly) perfect hero#since they are given no other choice they both embrace the title of villain (either consciously or unconsciously) as a coping mechanism#to me the only major difference is that nimona is trans-coded and megamind is autistic-coded#anyway i'm feeling very gross and sniffly so to avoid contaminating my tech any further i'm going to stop typing now#the amazing world of gumball#tawog#danny's roleswap au#drsau#voidball#voidball drsau#ask box
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cue Kevin being a snarky shit <3
#i love him your honor#it's actually making things difficult for him and the team but well i guess he learned that from nathaniel#its ok he'll get his comeuppance in a minute#i'm only gonna be a little mean to him with it but we gotta be honest here </3 so sorry kevin#shh ac#(wit)jitp
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brb crying over something ultra adorable and sweet that happened at work today
#sometimes people are so nice fr#i feel so honored i was there to witness that moment#also feel so happy for my coworker for getting some recognition for always being so fun and sweet w/ customers#idk it simultaneously feels like that moment healed something in my heart#but also made me a little jealous because I've never experienced something like it firsthand#ANYWAY my point stands that humans are so great sometimes actually#and i am Emotions over it#feels like i'm filled to the brim with love and affection and nowhere to put it so my chest hurts a little
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LOVED your Milagro analysis! I recently showed the episode to a friend who's not an xf fan, and she was bothered by the lack of emotion from Mulder and i was like...whatt. how can you not see how bothered and jealous he is from the minute he discovers it was padgett who sent the charm. his expressions in the elevator, breaking into his apartment to find Scully there, every time Scully defended padgett, like I was eating that shti right upp so I was so confused. I think it's difficult for people who aren't used to watching DD's acting (especially as Mulder) to be able to see the subtleties. I actually think Milagro's quite significant in terms of their emotional arch as well, I know he ditches her again the next episode but I feel a definite shift in their energies, like some things had been cleared, and then he does come back to her (baseball scene), whenever he can find the headspace to get away from his obsessive need to search and find, he always comes back to Scully (touchstone I actually cannotttt). anyway, I feel really validated in my emotions after reading the post so sorry for the rant but really appreciate it!!!
I get the same thing-- I also have someone I showed the series to, and she, unironically, falls into the "MSR wouldn't last and is surprised that it did" noromo camp.
DD's acting as Mulder is soooooooooooo great: even compared to his earlier work, there was a flatness undercut by jocular tongue-in-cheek teasing that makes it so memorable. But I found, even when watching a scene, that if I take random screenshots they STILL don't capture the emotion-- I have to be very careful which expressions to pick because they're "flit and they're gone" reactions.
And thank you for liking the Milagro analyses! It was an out-of-left-field for me, and surprisingly a lot of (not hard) work, two parts turning into three and 30 screenshots turning into 30 sets of 3 squished together screenshots. Love the feedback, and rant anytime~! ;)))))
#asks#txf#jharu#DD#and his subtle acting#thanks for writing in! send me alllll the review! >:))))))#saw a description of David Duchovny once: “the man the myth the monotone” and thought it was hilarious#and Geoff Peterson poking fun at his voice on Craig Ferguson's show is a highlight I never want to forget#the whole scenario was hilarious#excuse me while I get sidetracked:#Geoff (Josh) has an amazing ability to mimic guest's voices#doing Morgan Freeman to Morgan Freeman's face and shocking him so much that it wasn't a recording#then when Craig sets that bit up for DD ���he can listen and do your voice RIGHT now!”#Geoff DOESN'T EVEN TRY#doing the most shaky monotone “I'm not even cognizant” voice with such a California surfer dude:#“Hey what's... going on... man?”#which almost killed Craig#AND THEN DD STOOD UP TO CONFRONT HIM AND RESTORE HIS HONOR#and then Geoff brings it all around to a joke DD made earlier-- that sharp wit carrying the whole joke home
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Blue eye.... samurai.......
#yeah i can't remember the last time i felt this attracted to and exhilarated by... everything that's going on here really#i'm one episode in and this shit is insane!!!! fucking insane!!!!!!! holy jesus magnets!!!!!!#This series started on f u c k i n g u n b e l i e v a b l e grounds it's so smart and intricate i'm eating my entire arm as we speak#TRIANGLE OF HONOR OF ALL TIME#LIKE FOR FYCKS SAKE THIS SERIES COULDN'T GET ANY SEXIER IF IT TRIED#DONT TALK TO ME I NEED TO THINK ABOUT BLUE EYE SAMURAI FOR THE NEXT 79 YEARS#like fucking hell i feel blessed witnessing this masterpiece of a story#finger crossed it stays like that!!!!
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女性
#ISTG WHY ARE YALL SO CUTE AND PRETTY AND😭😭😭#Also yeah that includes david bowie#MAN THE HAIR AND THE PRETTYNESS AND THEM 女性 WITH BANGS#AND LIKE--WHY#I believe in one god--the father almighty#I'm sorry I just have like...3 女性 stcuk in my head and idk if I'll ever see them again😭😭😭😭😭😭#That one model-esque arabic girl who's the daugher of a family owned bareque business#That one pretty one I saw from youtube shorts who's sitting on a bar stoll and she witnessed that bar stoll prank that went up a dude's @$$#I REMEMBER THAT SHE HAS LONG BLONDE HAIR AND WAS WEARING A WHITE SHIRT AND SHE LOOKS LIKE BELLA THORNE#That one I saw from facebook reels who was reading a book on the floor of a library or a book store#MAAAAAAANNNN#YALL PRETTY#Honorable mentions:#Cate Blanchett#My crush#Karen Gillan#Elizabeth Debicki#David Bowie in 1970#Linda Hamilton in terminator 2 ;-;
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There's no way to say 'This song was made for mashups" without sounding like an asshole but I honestly have no better way to describe the phenomenon of the vocals ruling and the instrumental fucking so damn hard and then the combination sounding depressingly mediocre for no reason
#im sorry y'all but this is how you all get to learn my opinion of 'psychosocial' by slipknot#I love the vocals#I am desperately in love wit the instrumental (esp the drums ngl they mesh so well w/my pacing stims)#but the combination then sounds weirdly eh for how good all the components are separately#and then you listen to any fucking mashup and it rules so hard#best ones are psychosocial sexy back || toxic psychosocial || psychosocial romance || and honorable ment. to psychosalad#anyways yeah have fun knowing this about me#im really hoping this doesn't actually show up in the official slipknot tag cause its meant to be my rambling#not public opinion#im only sharing in the tags bc I'm pretty sure none of you listen to slipknot and will therefore not be annoyed by my stupid opinions
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Get ready for a ROYal Rumble 💪
It was a pleasure to be part of this wonderful event, and lots of fun! I've always been a huge M&L fan and it makes me so happy to see this series making a glorious comeback.
Can you guess my favorite entry hehehe 😁
Happy Brothership Day!
Thank you everyone for participating in the Mario & Luigi: Art Collab (-Ship)! It's been a wonderful journey for us all, we hope you had a great time and enjoy the canvas with everyone's wonderful work on it!
You can find the full canvas and credits to all of our participants here!
Edit: We've made a few minor changes for version 2! Check out our newest version of the canvas!
#mario & luigi#roy koopa#my art#collab#had lots of fun drawing this guy#oomfs if you can see this THANK YOU for doing this event#you poured lot of your hearts on this and i feel honored to witnessing it from the start#this series is simply fantastic and so wonderful to defy death#i'm sorry but m&l games mean so much to me...
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ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴀ ғᴀʟsᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀ
⤷ Credits: Pinterest
Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 8.5k | Proof read : YES | Navigation | Notifications | series masterlist
Summary : Your father is fed up with your shenanigans, so he arranges a marriage to Rome's famous general and gladiator, Marcus Acacius.
Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage) SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Oral F and M, Implied age gap, Scars, Misogyny, Spitting, both give switch vibes,
A/n : I put a dub-con warning just because it is a forced/arranged marriage also ty and enjoy @multiversed-daydreamer for listening to me yap about this all day luv ya 💕
The table was set, lit, and ready for a feast. Grapes, wine, cheese, and meats lined the table. Being the daughter of a powerful general had its perks, not that you liked the kind of life you had. You understood you were privileged, your place in society clear. You knew that if it weren't for your father's position, you would probably be a slave to the hierarchy. But it didn't mean you had to like your life.
You were 18 and shockingly unmarried—not that you cared. You had more fun sneaking away to the parties that would happen late at night. You were happy for the fact you weren't tied down yet. The thrill of escaping your father's watchful eye and diving into the forbidden world of Rome's underground festivities made your heart race.
You had a reputation, one that was far from ladylike. Wild child, they called you, and you wore it like a badge of honor. You knew what sex was, what things happened in the dark corners of those parties, but you were still a virgin. Your knowledge came from observation, whispers, and the daring escapades you had witnessed, but you hadn't crossed that final threshold. Not yet.
Your father, a stern and formidable general, was a man who worked with gladiators and other powerful figures in Rome. His influence was vast, and his expectations were high. He had grown increasingly frustrated with you lately, and you couldn't quite understand why. His annoyance with your antics was palpable, but there was something more, something beneath the surface that gnawed at him.
As you sat there, wine goblet in hand, you sipped slowly, savoring the taste. You knew he would tell you to only have a single glass, a rule you delighted in bending. The door to the grand hall burst open, and there he was, your father, his expression a storm of irritation and something deeper, something darker.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Drinking again?"
You looked up at him, feigning innocence. "Just a single glass, Father, as you always insist."
His eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room with swift, purposeful strides. "You think I don't know what you get up to, do you? Sneaking out, causing trouble. Do you have any idea how this reflects on me? On our family?"
You sighed, placing the goblet down. "I know, Father. But you can't keep me locked away forever. I'm not a child anymore."
He stood before you, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're my daughter, and you will behave with the dignity and decorum befitting your station."
You met his gaze, unflinching. "And what if I don't want that life? What if I want to be free, to make my own choices?"
His frustration seemed to boil over, and for a moment, you thought he might explode. But then, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "You don't understand the dangers out there. The people I deal with—the gladiators, the politicians—they're not like the ones at your little parties. They're dangerous."
You softened slightly, sensing the genuine worry behind his anger. "Then tell me, Father. Explain why you're so frustrated lately. What aren't you telling me?"
He hesitated, the walls he had built around himself momentarily crumbling. "It's complicated," he finally said, his voice quieter. "There are threats... to our family, to our position. I'm trying to protect you, even if it doesn't seem like it."
You reached out, touching his arm. "I want to understand. Help me see what you see."
He looked down at your hand, then back at your face, a mixture of anger and sorrow in his eyes. "Maybe it's time you did," he said, his voice resigned. "But you must promise me, you'll be careful. This world is not as kind as you think."
You nodded, determination filling your chest. "I promise, Father. I'll be careful. But I won't be caged."
Your father's expression hardened once more, and the momentary softness disappeared. He sat down at the table, grabbing a handful of grapes and popping one into his mouth. "Enough. This isn't up for discussion," he snapped. "You are to be married."
Your heart plummeted. "Married? To whom?"
His eyes were cold as steel. "To a man who can protect you, who can secure our family's future."
You jumped to your feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "No! I don't want to be married off like some piece of property. I won't do it!"
He towered over you, his presence suffocating. "You have no choice. This is for your own good."
"Who is it then?" you demanded, your voice rising in defiance. "Is it Lucius? That lecherous old man who can't keep his hands to himself?"
Your father shook his head, his jaw clenched. "No, not Lucius."
"Is it Gaius, then?" you asked, pacing around the table, barely noticing your father grabbing a slice of cheese and eating it with deliberate calmness. "The pompous fool who thinks he's the smartest man in Rome but can't even string a coherent sentence together without tripping over his own ego?"
"Not Gaius."
"Then it must be Quintus! The brute who only knows how to solve problems with his fists, who would treat me like a possession rather than a person."
"No, it isn't Quintus either," your father snapped, his patience wearing thin. He took a deep drink from his own goblet, trying to steady himself.
"Who then? Who could possibly be suitable in your eyes?" you spat, your desperation clear.
Your father took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's Marcus Acacius."
The name sent a jolt through you, and you took an involuntary step back. Marcus Acacius, a name whispered in both awe and fear throughout Rome. A man known for his prowess in the arena and his cunning outside it. A man with a reputation as cold and unyielding as stone.
"Marcus Acacius?" you echoed, disbelief coloring your tone. "You can't be serious. He's a gladiator, a killer."
"He's more than that," your father insisted. "He's powerful, respected, and capable of protecting you from the dangers you don't even know exist."
You shook your head, your mind reeling. "No, Father. You can't do this to me. I won't marry him."
"You will," he said firmly. "And you will do it for our family, for our future."
You felt the walls closing in, the life you had known slipping away. You slumped back into your chair, staring at the untouched food before you. "What if... what if I've already been with someone else?" you blurted out, hoping to find some way out of this nightmare.
Your father's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "Have you been taken by another lover?"
You hesitated, the lie heavy on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath kept you silent. "No," you finally admitted, defeated.
"Then it's settled," he said, the finality in his voice chilling. "You will marry Marcus Acacius, and you will do so with dignity."
Tears of frustration and anger welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "I won't be happy, Father. Not with him, not with this life."
He reached out, a rare gesture of tenderness, and touched your cheek. "Happiness is a luxury we can't afford," he said softly. "But safety, security—that is something I can give you."
You pulled away, the weight of his decision crushing your spirit. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be free."
His hand fell to his side, and his eyes hardened once more. "Freedom is an illusion, my daughter. And you will learn that soon enough."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the grand hall, the weight of your impending marriage pressing down on you like a vice.
Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.
Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.
You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.
You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.
Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.
Rage bubbled up inside you, a seething mass of frustration and helplessness. The weight of your father's words pressed down on you like a heavy shroud, suffocating your spirit. With a sudden, violent motion, you swept your arm across the dining table, sending grapes, cheese, and meats crashing to the floor. The wine goblet toppled, spilling dark red liquid like blood across the pristine tablecloth.
Breathing heavily, you glared at the mess you had created, but it did nothing to alleviate the fury burning within you. Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the grand hall, your footsteps echoing through the marble corridors.
You reached your room, slamming the door behind you. The silence was oppressive, the walls closing in as your mind raced. You had to get out. You couldn't marry Marcus Acacius. You couldn't be trapped in a life you didn't choose, a life that would suffocate the very essence of who you were.
You paced the room, the dim light from the oil lamps casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your eyes darted around, searching for a solution, a way out of this nightmare. Your thoughts turned to your mother, a fleeting glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness.
Your mother had been sent to the countryside years ago, a decision made by your father to keep her safe from the political intrigue and danger that plagued Rome. She lived a quiet, secluded life on the family estate, far from the city's chaos. You hadn't seen her in years, but you knew she would help you if you could reach her.
It had been a month of plotting and planning, each day dragging on as your impending fate loomed ever closer. Today was your wedding day, the day your life would be sealed into a destiny you hadn’t chosen. Final preparations had been completed yesterday, and now you were meant to step into the role of a dutiful daughter and bride. You had woken up earlier than your maids would have roused you, knowing your father would want you to rest more so you appeared extra fresh for Marcus. Instead, your nerves had kept you up all night, the shadows on the walls morphing into ominous shapes as you thought of your future.
The first light of dawn crept through the narrow window, and you knew you couldn’t waste any more time. Your small bag, packed with bread, a few pieces of jewelry to sell, and the spending money your father occasionally gave you, lay hidden under the covers of your bed. The plan was simple: catch the slightest bit of rest before your handmaid came in to wake you, then escape before anyone noticed.
The door creaked open, and Lucia, your handmaid, entered with her usual gentle and serene presence. She glided to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, casting a warm glow that felt almost mocking given your circumstances. You sat up in bed, the light highlighting the bags under your eyes from a sleepless night.
"Good morning, my lady," she said dreamily, her voice like a lullaby. "The sun is shining so beautifully today. It's a perfect day for a wedding." She moved to your side, her hands deftly beginning to arrange your hair with practiced ease. You watched her reflection in the mirror, feeling a pang of guilt for the deception you were about to execute.
"Your dress is so beautiful, my lady. It's like a dream come true. You'll look like a goddess, a vision of perfection," Lucia continued, her words meant to comfort but only adding to your anxiety. The dress she spoke of hung in the corner, a symbol of the life you were being forced into.
You let her continue, her words a soothing balm against your churning thoughts. As she began to apply a light makeup, using berries to tint your lips and cheeks, you couldn't help but feel a sense of finality creeping in. "You'll be the envy of every woman in Rome," she continued, her voice full of admiration. "Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You'll be safe with him."
Safe. The word echoed in your mind, tinged with bitterness. Safety was a cage, and you longed for freedom. Suddenly, you sat up, startling Lucia. "I need your dress," you blurted out, your voice urgent.
She looked at you, shocked and confused. "My dress, my lady? Why would you want my dress?" she asked, her hands frozen in mid-motion.
You gave her a reassuring smile, reaching under your bed to pull out a dress you had kept for a long time. It was a simple yet elegant gown, one she had always admired. "I have something for you," you said, handing her the dress. "I've seen how much you like it. Today, I want you to wear it and have fun. I just... I want to feel normal before the wedding."
Her eyes widened, and a smile of pure joy spread across her face. "Thank you, my lady. Thank you so much!" She looked at the dress, then back at you. "But what about you? Where will you be?"
You hesitated for a moment, crafting a believable lie. "I'll be eating breakfast with the soldiers. I need a moment to myself before the chaos begins."
She nodded, believing your words, and quickly changed into the dress you had given her. You watched as her usual plain attire was replaced by the elegant gown, the transformation bringing a genuine smile to your face despite the turmoil in your heart. "You look beautiful," you said, forcing a smile. "Now go, enjoy yourself."
Lucia beamed, her happiness palpable. "Thank you, my lady. I'll remember this day forever." She gave a small curtsy and hurried out, eager to enjoy the brief taste of luxury you had gifted her.
As soon as the door closed behind her, you sprang into action. Your heart pounded as you grabbed your small bag from under the covers and moved swiftly towards the door. The corridors of the castle were quiet, the early hour ensuring most were still in their beds. You moved with purpose, your sandals barely making a sound on the stone floors.
Every step you took was filled with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. You had never been so bold, and the risk was immense. If you were caught, the consequences would be severe, but you couldn't live a life that wasn't yours. The thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage with Marcus Acacius spurred you on.
You reached the courtyard, the cool morning air filling your lungs as you dashed towards the farthest end where the horse stables were located. The sound of hooves and the scent of hay greeted you as you approached, your eyes scanning for a suitable mount. Freedom was within reach, and your heart soared with the possibility.
But then, a familiar, stern voice cut through the morning air. "Where do you think you're going?"
You sprinted, your sandals slapping against the cobblestones as the guards closed in. Heart pounding, you reached the barn, your fingers fumbling with the latch. The sound of pursuing footsteps fueled your frantic efforts, and finally, the door swung open. You dashed inside, the scent of hay and horses enveloping you. There was no time to lose.
Without wasting a moment, you chose the newest and fastest horse, a powerful chestnut stallion that had always intimidated you with its raw strength. It was your only chance. Your hands shook as you grabbed its mane, your heart hammering in your chest. The stallion snorted, sensing your urgency. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.
"Hyah!" you urged, kicking your heels against its sides. The stallion reared, its powerful muscles tensing beneath you, then surged forward, galloping towards the gates. The wind whipped through your hair, the thundering of hooves drowning out the shouts behind you.
The gate loomed ahead, freedom tantalizingly close. You leaned forward, urging the horse faster. As you rode, you navigated the narrow alleys and sharp turns of the castle grounds, the stallion's speed making every twist and turn feel like a life-or-death gamble. The guards were not far behind, their yells growing louder, but you kept pushing, your eyes fixed on the gate.
You had run from the guards before, slipping through their grasp with quick wits and nimble feet, but this was different. The stakes were higher, the danger more palpable. The horse beneath you was your only hope, its powerful strides eating up the distance between you and the gate. But it was also a wild, untamed force, difficult to control.
As you neared the gate, you saw it beginning to close. Panic surged through you. With a desperate cry, you urged the stallion faster. The ground seemed to blur beneath you, the world a whirl of motion and sound. The horse’s breath came in powerful snorts, its muscles straining with effort.
Just as you thought you might make it, the stallion stumbled on a loose cobblestone. You were flung from its back, the world spinning around you as you hit the ground hard. Pain shot through your body, your vision swimming with stars.
When you opened your eyes, the sky above was a brilliant blue, and the scent of earth and grass filled your nostrils. You groaned, trying to sit up, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you.
"Easy there," a deep, soothing voice said. You turned your head and found yourself staring into the concerned eyes of a stranger, his face handsome and strong, framed by dark curls. He knelt beside you, his touch gentle but firm.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
You blinked, trying to focus through the haze of pain and confusion. "Who... who are you?"
A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "My name is Marcus Acacius. And you must be my bride."
The revelation hit you like a bolt of lightning. This was the man you were meant to marry, the man you were running from. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not the tyrant you had imagined, but a man filled with genuine concern and curiosity.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," Marcus continued his voice a mix of authority and kindness. "It's dangerous. Let me help you."
The irony of the situation was almost too much to bear. You had been fleeing from your fate, only to run straight into its arms. As Marcus helped you to your feet, his hands strong and reassuring, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps your destiny was more complex than you had believed.
Marcus's strong arms guided you inside, each step a reluctant surrender to the fate you had been trying to escape. The castle's grand corridors, usually bustling with servants and courtiers, were eerily quiet in the early morning light. You were disoriented, the pain from your fall mingling with the turmoil of your thoughts.
As you entered your bedchamber, a familiar and unwelcome face greeted you. Aurelia, one of your father's maids and his well-known mistress, stood there with a smug expression. Her presence was a bitter reminder of your father's indiscretions and the fractured state of your family.
"Well, well," Aurelia purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "What a surprise to see you here, my lady. Running away on your wedding day? How very unbecoming of you."
You shot her a withering glare, your temper flaring. "Spare me your lectures, Aurelia. I'm not in the mood for your sanctimonious drivel."
Aurelia's smile widened, enjoying your discomfort. "You should be grateful for the match your father has arranged. Marcus Acacius is a powerful man. You could do far worse."
You clenched your fists, your anger barely contained. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify spreading your legs for my father? That you're doing it for power and security?"
Her eyes flashed with anger, but she maintained her composure. "Watch your tongue, girl. You may not like me, but I'm here to make sure you fulfill your duty. Now sit down and let me get you ready."
Reluctantly, you sat down, feeling trapped and helpless. As Aurelia worked on your hair and makeup, her touch was firm and unyielding. Her presence was suffocating, her every word a reminder of the life you were being forced into.
"You think you can escape your destiny?" Aurelia continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "You're just a foolish girl. This marriage is your only chance at a future."
You bit back a retort, knowing it would only fuel her smug superiority. Instead, you focused on the mirror in front of you, watching as she applied the final touches to your appearance. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable—a vision of beauty and elegance, but one that felt like a mask hiding your true self.
Once Aurelia finished, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "You look perfect. Ready to be a proper bride."
You stood, your heart heavy with dread. The grand hall awaited, filled with guests and the weight of expectation. As you made your way towards it, you felt the walls closing in, your fate sealed with every step.
The hall was decorated with lavish flowers and banners, the scent of incense filling the air. Guests whispered and watched as you entered, their eyes following your every move. At the far end, Marcus Acacius stood, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.
The ceremony began with the priest’s voice, resonant and solemn, echoing through the hall. The guests fell into an expectant silence, the only sounds being the faint rustling of their silk garments and the distant clinking of goblets. The hall, lavishly adorned with ivy and flowers, seemed to shimmer with an almost otherworldly glow, casting shadows that danced like phantoms along the walls.
You stood at the altar, your heart pounding against your ribs like a trapped bird. The priest’s words, though intended to be a comfort, were like a dark incantation, each syllable wrapping around you tighter, dragging you deeper into the abyss of your fate. Your eyes flickered over to Marcus, standing with his back straight, his gaze unwavering. He looked every bit the powerful man he was rumored to be—tall, imposing, with a presence that commanded the room.
You recalled the whispers you had heard over the past months—the stories of Marcus Acacius. The tales were rife with speculation and fear, his name often mentioned in hushed tones. They spoke of a man whose ambition knew no bounds, whose cruelty was whispered about in every corner of Rome. Some said his eyes held a darkness that could see through to the soul, while others claimed he had a penchant for the macabre, often indulging in extravagant displays of power.
As the priest began the traditional vows, his voice a monotone murmur, you tried to focus, but the words blurred into a cacophony. "Do you, Marcus Acacius, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"
Marcus’s voice was steady, unwavering. "I do," he said, his tone deep and commanding, sending shivers down your spine.
When it was your turn, the words caught in your throat, your voice barely a whisper. "I... I do," you managed, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, the weight of your submission crushing your spirit.
The priest nodded, a satisfied smile curling his lips. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
As the priest declared you bound by law and faith, the room erupted into applause, the sound a thunderclap that seemed to echo off the very stones of the castle. Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and unyielding, leading you down the aisle. The guests showered you with petals, their faces a blur of congratulations and forced smiles. You felt like a puppet, each step you took dictated by an invisible string.
The reception hall was a whirlwind of opulence, the air thick with the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous feasts, while musicians played melodies that mingled with the laughter and chatter of the guests. The hall’s high ceilings seemed to stretch into eternity, adorned with golden chandeliers that sparkled like stars.
You clung to the edge of the hall, the laughter and music a distant hum, your mind wandering back to the dark tales you had heard of Marcus. The rumors were impossible to ignore: they spoke of his ruthless ambition, his cold demeanor, and his unsettling fascination with power. Some said his parties were a mask for darker pursuits, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into obscurity.
As Marcus moved through the crowd, his demeanor was that of a king—gracious yet commanding, his laughter rich and resonant. He was surrounded by his closest allies, men whose eyes gleamed with greed and ambition. They raised their goblets in his honor, their voices melding into a chorus of congratulatory toasts.
You stood near a heavy oak door, the cool stone beneath your fingers a reminder of the stark reality you now faced. The night was growing darker, the moonlight streaming through the tall windows casting an eerie glow on the festivities.
Suddenly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you away from the door. It was one of the guards, his expression grave. "My lady, you mustn't go near that door. Your father has given strict orders. Any guard who aids your escape will be put to death."
You stared at him, a chill running down your spine. "What do you mean? You can’t be serious. There’s no way out of here. You’re all trapped too."
The guard’s eyes flickered with a mix of pity and resolve. "It’s true, my lady. Your father’s command is ironclad. He has spies everywhere. If you try to leave, he will know. And the consequences for anyone who helps you are severe."
A knot of fear and frustration tightened in your chest. "What do you expect me to do? Just stand here and pretend everything’s fine?"
He hesitated, his grip on your arm softening. "No, my lady. But perhaps you could find a way to make the best of this night. Try to speak to him, learn his intentions. There may be more to him than the rumors say."
Taking a deep breath, you nodded, your mind spinning with the guard’s words. With a determined stride, you made your way through the crowd towards Marcus, who was leaning casually against a pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. His eyes were slightly glazed from the alcohol, but his gaze sharpened as he saw you approaching.
"Marcus," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "I wanted to thank you for your help earlier today. I... I appreciate it."
He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You mean when you tried to flee?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "You have spirit, I'll give you that."
You forced a smile, trying to gauge his true nature. "I only wished for a moment of freedom. But I suppose that is behind us now."
Marcus took a sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving yours. "Freedom is a fleeting thing, my dear. But power... power is eternal. And together, we shall wield it."
Your stomach churned at his words, the rumors about him echoing in your mind. "Is that all you care about? Power?" you asked, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.
His smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "You misunderstand me. Power is not an end, but a means. It ensures safety, prosperity, and control over one's destiny. Is that so terrible?"
You struggled to see past the image you had built of him. "I’ve heard things about you, Marcus. Dark things."
He chuckled softly, a sound that sent chills down your spine. "People fear what they do not understand. Let them talk. What matters is that I have the means to protect those I care about."
His words, though seemingly sincere, did little to quell your doubts. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your father’s voice boomed across the hall.
"Honored guests!" he called out, drawing everyone’s attention. "The hour grows late, and it is time for my daughter and her new husband to retire to their bedchamber."
A murmur of approval and knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Your heart raced, a mixture of dread and resignation filling you. Marcus extended his hand to you, his grip firm and possessive as he led you through the throng of guests towards the grand staircase.
As you ascended the stairs, the weight of your future bore down on you. You glanced back once, seeing the guests' faces fade into the distance, their laughter and conversations becoming a dull roar. When you reached the door of the bedchamber, Marcus paused, turning to face you.
"This is just the beginning," he said, his voice low and intense. "We have much to learn about each other."
You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yes, we do."
He opened the door, and you stepped inside, the room lit by the soft glow of candlelight. The bed, draped in rich fabrics, seemed to loom ominously in the center. Marcus closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sounding like a final seal on your fate.
As he moved closer, you felt a mix of fear and curiosity. This was the man you were now bound to, and despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of you that longed to understand him, to find the truth beneath the rumors.
"Let's start anew," he said, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "Whatever you have heard, whatever you fear, put it aside. We are bound by more than words and vows. Let’s see where this path takes us."
You recoiled from his touch, your anger bubbling to the surface. "I'd rather fuck a pig than you," you spat, your voice dripping with venom. The shock on his face quickly morphed into a cold, calculating expression.
"You need to learn your place," Marcus hissed, his grip tightening on your arm. "You should consider yourself lucky to have me, especially with your reputation."
You glared at him, your temper flaring. "Lucky? Is that what you think this is? A blessing? I know what people say about you, Marcus. They call you ruthless, a monster. I'd rather die than be your plaything."
He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You speak so boldly for someone in such a precarious position. But let me make something clear: you are mine now. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you in line."
Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of fear and defiance. "You can't control me. I'll never submit to you."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Is that so? Tell me, my bride, are you truly a virgin, or have your wild antics already sullied you?"
The question caught you off guard, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "How dare you—"
"Answer me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. "Are you a virgin?"
You clenched your fists, refusing to be cowed. "Yes, I am," you snapped, your voice trembling with rage. "Not that it's any of your business."
He seemed taken aback for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face. "So, you are pure, despite everything. Interesting."
"You think you can just claim me like some prize?" you retorted, your voice rising. "I won't be your obedient little wife. I won't be another notch on your belt."
Marcus's expression hardened, his grip on your arm like iron. "You will be my wife, and you will learn to respect me. You don't know the first thing about power or survival. But you will."
"You don't scare me," you lied, your voice faltering slightly.
"Don't I?" he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. "You should be scared. But perhaps you're just too stubborn to realize it."
"Stubborn?" you scoffed. "Is that what you call it when someone refuses to bow to a tyrant?"
His eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you. But instead, he did something even more unexpected. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, passionate intensity.
You froze, your mind racing as his kiss deepened. There was a raw, undeniable heat between you, a clash of wills and desires. Your initial shock gave way to a whirlwind of emotions—anger, fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn't quite name.
As his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, you found yourself responding, your body betraying your mind. The kiss was a battle, each of you struggling for dominance, neither willing to yield.
When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart racing. His eyes were dark and intense, a storm of emotions swirling within them. You stared back at him, defiance and confusion mingling in your gaze, unsure of what to say or do next.
"I'm sorry," Marcus said, his voice unexpectedly soft. "I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that."
His words, so out of character, only fueled your anger further. "Sorry?" you scoffed, pushing him back slightly. "You think a simple apology will make up for everything? For the way you've treated me, for the way you think you can just claim me?"
His jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I know I can't make up for it. But perhaps... perhaps we can find a way to understand each other."
You were silent for a moment, then your eyes narrowed. "Understand each other?" you echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what this is about? Understanding?"
A dark, reckless impulse surged within you. You grabbed him by the front of his tunic, pulling him closer. "You think you can control me?" you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "You think you can just take what you want?"
Before he could respond, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with even more intensity. The kiss was fierce, a clash of wills and desires. You could feel the tension between you, the thin line between hate and something far more dangerous.
Marcus responded in kind, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The room seemed to spin as you lost yourself in the raw heat of the moment, your anger and frustration boiling over into something wild and unrestrained.
You broke the kiss, your breathing ragged. "You want me?" you demanded, your voice a low, challenging whisper. "Then take me."
His eyes blazed with desire and a hint of confusion. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Shut up," you snapped, pulling him closer. "No more talking. Just... take me."
With a growl, Marcus responded, his hands tearing at your clothes with a desperate urgency. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his tunic. The fabric fell away, and you pressed your bodies together, the heat of his skin igniting a fire within you.
"You're infuriating," he muttered, his lips trailing down your neck.
"And you," you retorted, your hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, "are a tyrant."
He paused for a moment, his breath hot against your skin. "Then why are you doing this?"
"Because," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire, "I hate you. And I need to feel something other than this... this helplessness."
He captured your lips again, his kiss searing and demanding. "I hate you too," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming your body. "But I can't resist you."
The world outside ceased to exist as you gave in to the storm between you. Clothes fell away, and you were left exposed, vulnerable yet defiant. You pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, your eyes locked in a battle of wills.
"You think you can control me?" you challenged, your voice breathless.
"I don't need to control you," Marcus replied, his hands gripping your hips. "I just need you."
Marcus brought his thumb to circle your clit, his rough touch sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You moaned slightly, your head falling back in bliss. His voice teased you, dripping with arrogance. "What, haven’t you touched yourself before?"
You gasped, grinding down against the hard length of his cock straddled between your legs. His smirk faltered at your audacity. "Of course I have," you retorted, your voice edged with defiance, a spark of rebellion lighting your eyes.
Marcus gripped your hips, lifting you off him with ease before moving to sit back against the headboard, his arms casually behind his head in a display of smug dominance. "You want the virgin to do all the work?" you taunted, your eyes narrowing in displeasure as you crawled closer.
His smirk returned, darker this time. "The virgin, huh? That's what I get to call you now?" He paused, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "You're the one who's on me like a dog in heat."
You looked at him with a dark expression, sitting back on your thighs, your chest heaving with frustration and desire. With one hand, you began to caress his upper thigh, mimicking the movements you'd seen from the sex workers in your father's employ. Though inexperienced, you weren't ignorant; you'd read secret novels and asked questions of your father's mistresses. But nothing had prepared you for the raw reality of this moment.
"You know what to do?" he questioned a challenge in his eyes, his voice a low growl.
You didn't answer with words. Instead, you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick from the base of his cock to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum on your tongue. The taste was oddly addictive. You wrapped your hand around his thick length, marveling at how it almost didn't fit in your grip. Steadying him, you licked the tip, eliciting a deep groan from him.
"Don't be shy," he patted your head condescendingly, his fingers tangling in your hair. Despite your nerves, you collected spit in your mouth and let it fall onto the tip of his cock, watching as he rubbed it around with a satisfied smirk.
You took the tip into your mouth, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, and groaned at the flavor. He moaned deeply as you sucked gently, guiding your head with his hand. You gagged slightly as you tried to take more of him in, your hand still gripping the base, your eyes watering with the effort.
"Spit on it," he commanded. You did as he asked, letting more saliva dribble onto his length. He patted your head again, a gesture both condescending and encouraging, and you resumed sucking, taking him deeper into your mouth. You gagged again, but he didn't let go, enjoying the sight of you struggling to accommodate his size.
"Come on," he urged, pulling you up to straddle his hips once more. You thought he was finally ready to take your virginity, the moment you'd both been building towards, but he surprised you. Gripping your hips with firm hands, he moved you so his face was between your thighs.
"What are you—" you began, but he cut you off, his lips attacking your clit with a fervor that stole your breath. He completed the arc with his tongue, taking your bud between his lips and sucking hard. You almost screamed, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Oh God," you moaned, your hands flying to his hair to steady yourself.
He paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting yours with a predatory glint. "Marcus, baby… Marcus," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need and desperation.
He resumed his assault, his tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you wild. You began to grind against his mouth, the sensation too much to bear, yet not nearly enough. The tension built rapidly, your orgasm approaching with a force that took you by surprise.
"Marcus!" you cried out, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your body tensed and then shattered into a million pieces. He held your hips firmly to his face, lapping up every drop of your release as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.
You fell back onto the bed, spent and trembling, and he crawled over you, his face slick with your essence. "Well, well," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his features as he rubbed his cock against your still-sensitive pussy. "Are you all fucked out already?"
You managed a weak glare, but it melted into a moan as he pushed into you. The stretch was intense, making you claw at his shoulders for support. He kissed your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of fire as he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in deeply. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching to meet his every movement.
"You hear that?" His gruff voice asked, pulling you back to the present as his cock dragged from your cunt, pushing back in slowly. The squelch of him pushing deep inside you was loud, the sound of your arousal undeniable. You threw your head back, moaning his name.
"Yeah, you do," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. His teeth grazed your delicate skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Hear how wet you are?"
You opened your eyes slowly, your vision filled with the sight of him. His beautiful, sweat-covered face was close to yours, every scar and wrinkle telling a story, the grey in his beard adding to his rugged appeal. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race.
A moan escaped your lips as his thrusts grew more desperate, more hungry. He caught your wrists together in one of his big hands, pressing them down into the mattress with a grip that left no room for escape. Your thighs were splayed wide, almost uncomfortably so, pressed down by the width of his hips. His cock was splitting you open, and you were so impossibly wet that you could hear it every time he pushed back into you, a lewd squelching sound that only seemed to spur him on.
He grinned wildly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "You like that, don’t you?" he taunted, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Only I can make you this wet, make you submit so completely."
You could only moan in response, your body arching beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. "Marcus," you whimpered, the intense pleasure making you delirious. Your mind was a haze of sensation, every thrust sending you spiraling further into a world where only he existed.
His grin softened slightly, a hint of something almost tender in his eyes as he looked down at you. "That's right," he murmured, his voice a low growl. His thrusts were deep and relentless, each one driving home his dominance. "You're mine now."
You wanted to hate him, to deny the truth of his words, but with your body quivering beneath his, you knew he was right. You were his. Every thrust, every touch, every whispered word claimed you, bound you to him in ways you had never imagined.
His pace quickened, his hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the wet, obscene noises of your coupling. His free hand roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can't get enough of you."
Your response was a garbled moan, your head thrown back in ecstasy. His words, his touch, everything about him overwhelmed you. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, the coil of pleasure tightening in your belly, ready to snap.
He seemed to sense your impending release, his movements becoming even more deliberate, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with his own need. "Let go. I want to feel you."
The command sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room, a testament to your surrender.
His weight pressed you into the mattress, his skin hot and slick against yours. You felt every throb of his heartbeat, every shudder of his breath. It was an intimacy you had never experienced before, raw and all-consuming.
As the waves of your shared climax ebbed, you lay there, wrapped in the warmth of his body. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of passion.
As he lifted his head, his eyes met yours, filled with a complex mix of emotions. The intensity of his gaze made your heart flutter, but the softness in his expression was unexpected, almost tender.
"Well," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, "I guess the rumors were wrong. You're not a virgin after all." He paused, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Well, not anymore."
You felt a flush of anger rise within you. "And what if I wasn't? What difference would it make to you?"
He smirked, the familiar arrogance returning. "Just proves you're not as innocent as you pretend to be."
You pushed against his chest, forcing him to roll onto his side. "You're insufferable," you snapped, your breath still coming in short gasps. "You think you know everything, but you don't."
He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe not everything. But I know enough."
You glared at him, the heat between you not entirely dissipated. "You don't know anything about me."
His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "I know you're stronger than you think. And I know you feel something for me, whether you want to admit it or not."
You scoffed, turning your head away. "You're delusional."
"Am I?" He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Or are you just afraid to admit it?"
Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, a shiver running down your spine. "Get over yourself," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your insides twist. "I could say the same to you."
You pushed at him again, trying to create distance, but he caught your wrists, holding them against the mattress. "Let go," you demanded, struggling against his grip.
"Not until you admit it," he said, his voice soft but firm.
"Admit what?" you hissed, your anger flaring again.
"That you feel something for me," he said, his eyes boring into yours.
You glared at him, refusing to give in. "You're impossible."
He sighed, releasing your wrists and rolling onto his back. "Maybe I am. But so are you."
You lay there in silence for a moment, the tension between you thick and palpable. Despite everything, you couldn't deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the strange mix of hatred and desire that left you breathless and confused.
Finally, exhaustion began to creep in, your body heavy with the aftermath of your intense encounter. "This doesn't change anything," you said, your voice softer now, almost resigned.
"Maybe not," he agreed, his tone equally soft. "But it's a start."
You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes already on you. "What do you want from me, Marcus?" you asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.
He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a whisper. "But I want to find out."
You closed your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips. "I'm too tired to argue with you."
He chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly comforting. "Then don't. Just sleep."
You turned onto your side, your back to him, trying to create some semblance of space. The room was silent, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come, but your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.
Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't ignore the warmth radiating from Marcus's body, the solid presence of him beside you. There was a strange sense of comfort in his nearness, an unexpected feeling of safety that contrasted sharply with the chaos of your emotions.
As you lay there, the exhaustion from the night's events slowly began to overtake you. Your muscles relaxed, and your breathing grew steady and slow. You felt the mattress shift slightly as Marcus moved closer, his arm draping over your waist in a possessive yet gentle gesture.
For a moment, you considered shrugging him off, but the weariness was too much. Instead, you let yourself sink into the feeling of his arm around you, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your back. It was oddly soothing, a stark reminder that despite the tumultuous start to your union, there was a potential for something more, something deeper.
"Goodnight," Marcus murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear.
You hesitated before responding, the word barely a whisper. "Goodnight."
PART 2
#marcus acacius#gladiator 2#pedro pascal#marcus acacius x reader#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius x y/n#marcus acacius x female reader#smut#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal characters#ancient rome#gladiator#general acacius#general marcus acacius#general acacius x reader#general acacius x you#general acacius x y/n#female reader#pedrohub#sinfulmindjoyfulthoughts#pedro pascal smut#dark Marcus Acacius#Dark!Marcus Acacius
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There's always people theorizing how the Batfamily hides Jason disappearance and reappearance, but I literally haven't seen anyone use the best explanation: Witness Protection.
Like this literally answers every question. The Death Certificate? They had to fake his death. The empty grave? Obviously it had to be believable. The time when Wayne Heir "Richie Wayne" refused to step foot in Gotham and talk to his father? He was pissed about Jason's (non) death. Brucie Wayne's very real depression after his death? Well he lost contact with his son and he was under immense stress from the government.
Like this literally answers every question I can come up with. Why has no one said he was in witness protection? And if people have done it, send me fics and prompts because I'm obsessed.
And the best part is, the Waynes are so stupidly rich that they could pull it off. Lex Luther could try and conduct his own investigation but somehow he can never find anything concrete. And if he gets too close either Babs hacks them or Tim just calls up Conner for a distraction.
One time Jason gets cornered and asked how he felt about returning to his life after being in Witness Protection. Unfortunately, him and Bruce weren't on the best terms to explain the whole story but he comes in clutch. He spins the tale about how heartbroken he was to see his brother, father and grandfather grieving and how honored he was when he learnt his new little brother idolized him. Tim got ahold of a copy of the interview and will never let Jason live it down.
The media doesn't ask Bruce questions about Jason's death because last time they did he broke down and a suddenly furious reporter chastised them and reminded them that while Jason may be alive Bruce still mourned his death. The picture of Bruce in tears at the interview is currently one of Jason's favourite lockscreens.
Same goes for Dick. Any questions of his brother's death results in (1) Richie Wayne ready to throw hands at any and everybody, (2) his wife (well one of them) Barbara Gordon threatening the reporters or (3) That same Metropolis reporter chastising the whole community again.
#dc comics#batfam#bruce wayne#jason todd#yes the reporter is clark#hes ready to fight for b and dick#vicky vale wonders if jason todd wayne was in witness protection due to something involving the red hood#jason goes on twitter and bashes the red hood's whole persona#dick grayson retweets that red hood is trying and is just a little lost#the official batman twitter likes that tweet#it causes a huge mess for both barbara and jim gordon to clean up#they knew they shouldn't have gotten involved with gothams pet billionaire and his weird kids
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