#Villa Pace
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Photograph of Luciano Pavarotti at Villa Pace with Rosa Ponselle at the piano, used in 1982 in an issue of The Baltimore Sun Magazine.
N.B. - Luciano Pavarotti remembers his encounter with Rosa Ponselle: As a boy in Italy, growing up in my hometown, Modena, I can hardly remember a time when the name Rosa Ponselle was unfamiliar to me. (âŠ) One can imagine how I felt, having grown up admiring an artist whom I had known only from a series of prized phonograph records, meeting her in personâand not only meeting her, but actually "singing" with her! (âŠ) It was at Villa Pace, her magnificent home in the Greenspring Valley near Baltimore, that I met and sang with her. My visit to her villa was the culmination of a telephone-and-letter friendship that had begun a few years earlier. (âŠ) After much animated conversation and a splendid meal, we made our way into her expansive music room, where, before she sat down at the piano, she said to me apologetically, "Luciano, I'm not in form today. Every day when I get up in the morning I try out my 'pianissimo'. If it's there, I'm in top form, and I can do anything. Today, it isn't there, but we'll sing together anyway, in full voice." And sing we did! From fragments of arias and snippets of duets to the beloved Tosti songs so dear to us both, we let our voices mate in one long shimmering line of harmony. My only wish was that we could have been transported magically into a modern recording studio, so that the whole world could have shared this once-in-a-lifetime experience.
(Rosa Ponselle & James A. Drake - "Ponselle, A singer's Life", foreword by Luciano Pavarotti - Doubleday & Company, Inc. - Garden City, New York, 1982)
#Luciano Pavarotti#tenor#lyric tenor#Rosa Ponselle#dramatic soprano#soprano#opera#classical music#music history#bel canto#composer#classical composer#aria#classical studies#classical musician#classical musicians#history of music#historian of music#chest voice#diva#prima donna#maestro#classical history#opera history#history#musician#musicians#Sun Magazine#Villa Pace
4 notes
·
View notes
Photo
PRIMA PAGINA Il Piccolo di Oggi mercoledĂŹ, 30 ottobre 2024
#PrimaPagina#ilpiccolo quotidiano#giornale#primepagine#frontpage#nazionali#internazionali#news#inedicola#oggi ecologia#piccolo#frai#pace#guerra#stop#alla#reto#degli#serra#tuoi#sting#concerto#villa
0 notes
Text
License to Kill
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marital bliss becomes a bloody massacre within hours of your wedding. Bucky has run the gamut of organized crime from gunrunning to public extortion, but an attempt on your life is a whole different ballgame. A honeymoon-turned-manhunt has Bucky out for blood.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Semi-public sex. Beefy, mob boss Bucky really wants to give you a baby. Praise kink. Size kink. Facefucking. Sex on a private jet. Attempted murder. Arms trafficking. Guerrilla warfare.
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Any postnuptial banquet was bound to be the talk of Santorini when a groom arrived beaten half to death.
At least that was what youâd told yourself, what had plagued your mind for hours before the start of brunch, and what Bucky presently refused to acknowledge with so much as a bat of his eye or a word spoken in between.
âYou worry too much,â he said as he sheathed himself inside you for the third time that morning.
Bucky seized your throat in one hand and tilted your chin to make sure you were capable of eye contact while he fucked you in front of the mirror. It didnât seem to bother him at all that the face in his own reflection was bruised, bloodied, and sewn up like a patchwork quilt behind you.
Hazards of the job, heâd said.
Three masked assailants breaking into your villa the first night of honeymooning? Customary. Being yanked out of bed and made to kneel as your husband took the beating of a lifetime just minutes after consummating your marriage? More common than you would think.
Bucky hadnât even blinked when he got pistol whipped by a gold-plated Beretta. Didnât flinch when he was held to a wall and pummeled like a freestanding punch bag.
Almost smiled when he took a hard right hook to the nose and felt a torrent of blood flood out of his nostrils.
If anyone were to be accused of behaving too calmly in a home invasion, it would be Bucky Barnes. It seemed as though heâd seen this all before and had no qualms about getting the shit kicked out of him every now and then. Why he hadnât so much as lifted a finger to fight back was still beyond your comprehension, though.
At length, he tightened his grip on your neck and tried to smile, his upper lip slashed in two and bruised a grim, violet hue.
âWhoâs my girl?â he murmured an inch from your ear.
You whined when he delivered a particularly hard thrust, both of your hands flying to the mirror to steady yourself as he pounded you from behind.
âI-I am,â you whimpered.
The stretch was still something you were getting used to, but now Bucky knew just how to spread you open without making it hurt. Heâd glide a thick finger between your folds, slide it down to your clit, and leave it there as long as youâd let him, rubbing quick circles while you bucked and moaned under his touch. And, in spite of all his cuts and bruises, your husband made sure to kiss your shoulder every now and then to let you know he still loved youâeven if he was fucking you like he didnât.
Bucky trailed his lips behind your ear and watched you writhe in time with every stroke he gave. Pressed his face close to yours, watched a desperate, fucked-out expression take over your features, and smiled to himself knowing that no one but him got to see you like this.
âWho likes getting stuffed full of this cock?â he taunted.
âI do.â
âWho loves making daddy feel this good?â
âI do.â
He never thought the sound of your vows could be repeated out loud in such an obscene wayâhis sweet bride bent in half with a thick, throbbing cock wedged between her legsâbut he loved it nonetheless.
Bucky was rutting his hips at a breakneck pace and holding your head to the mirror like heâd never let go. Your climax was quickly coming close into view, and you felt your toes curl in the hardwood floor beneath them.
Suddenly, the chirp of a ringtone diverted your attention.
Bucky brought his phone to his ear as he continued to pound you mercilessly.
âYeah, Steve?â
The mob bossâs business never took a break, it seemed.
âSo what?â
âYeah, no, I heard you the first time.â
âWell, Iâm plowing my wife right now, can it wait?â
Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment at Buckyâs blunt choice of words. You saw his brow pinch behind you, his thrusts getting faster and sloppier, and in spite of the distraction, you sensed he was getting close too.
You yourself were right on the brink. Your gaze met Buckyâs in the mirror with a soft, pleading look, and before you knew it, your husband was bidding an abrupt farewell to his friend and chucking his phone to the side.
âReady to cum for me, honey?â
You whimpered and nodded.
âAlright then,â Bucky said with a near-expectant look, weaving the fingers of one hand into your hair and pulling it back, tight, âCum all over daddyâs cock.â
With a shriek you feared might carry throughout the whole banquet hall, you finally reached your peak and released around Buckyâs length, tears springing to your eyes as you closed them tight and moaned his name.
And, ever the cheeky fuck, Bucky leaned right in and kissed the sides of your face to collect all the moisture he couldââShit, honey, you taste as good as you lookââwhile he smirked. Wouldâve grinned even bigger if he wasnât so overcome with pleasure; but, as it was, he couldnât keep from blowing his load just seconds after the last spasms of your orgasm. Bucky leaned over your torso and squeezed your body tight to his, fucking his cum deep inside you as far as it could possibly go.
For a few, dizzying moments, the manâs mind wandered to more primal thoughts of making it stick, knocking you up, and Bucky had to clench his jaw hard to suppress the groans that were threatening to spill through his teeth. Every time he fucked you, it was like something just clicked; he couldnât rid the thought of giving you a baby.
But no, for now, the two of you were still on wedding time; before you could jet off to your real honeymoon destinationâsomeplace in the Caribbean, if Bucky remembered correctlyâyour mother had insisted that you host one post-wedding event that day: a brunch.
Naturally, that meant you were obliged to serve a four-course meal on the terrace of the Canaves Oia Hotel.
The mother of the bride had been one hell of a staunch advocate for keeping this wedding party going as long as possible, and who was Bucky to tell her no? He reasoned he would have plenty of time to get you pregnant after all the wedding festivities had ended, so he didnât mind.
At present, you tugged your panties and your dress back into place with a wince.
âI think you displaced my cervix, James.â
Bucky couldnât deny he felt the smallest twinge of pride seeing you walk a little funny to collect the rest of your belongings and attempt to freshen up. It also gave him the perfect excuse to scoop you back up in his arms and pretend to be apologetic about your present dilemma.
âDid I really?â he asked as you giggled and tried to swat him away, âIâm awfully sorry, Mrs. Barnes.â
âLike hell you are.â
With Bucky still draped over your body, proffering his apologies again and again as he assailed your face with tiny kisses, youâd barely made it two feet toward the door before you collapsed against a table and almost toppled a centerpiece. The pair of you would be expected outside any minute now, where the rest of your post-wedding party was likely trickling in and wondering where the hell the bride and groom had gone, but Bucky seemed adamant on keeping you to himself a little while longer.
That was until the back exit swung on its hinges and a familiar, frazzled groomsman stumbled in.
âCan you horndogs hurry the hell up?!â
So Sam had heard you after all.
You just mightâve blushed if you werenât being pushed out the door a second later, the hurried, chiding tone of your husbandâs friend ringing low in your ears.
âYour old manâs ready to hit the roof,â he mumbled to Bucky, âWonât start drinking until you two show face.â
âProbably still thinks my bride escaped in the middle of the night,â Bucky mused, flitting a look to you.
The man behind rolled his eyes and continued to usher you both outside. Sam Wilson knew exactly what had happened last night; heâd been the one to bring in the cavalry to save you both from imminent death, after all.
As you had come to find out, Sam wasnât just a friend of your husbandâs but also a close associate of sortsâthe kind that would wait in the wings and do whatever it took to keep Bucky safe. When the wait staff at the villa hadnât been able to reach you for room service delivery last night, reporting some âstrange soundsâ inside, Mr. Wilson had sprung into action. Called the rest of your husbandâs entourage and was up to your room in minutes, where theyâd dealt a swift, and final, blow to your attackers. You hadnât asked many questions afterâjust thanked him. Profusely.
âYou look like hell,â the man observed with a sidelong glance in his friendâs direction.
âReally? I feel great,â Bucky replied.
The three of you weaved through a crowd of partygoersâevery single one of whom, without exception, stopped and stared at your husbandâs mangled face as he passedâand you started to chew the inside of your cheek. People were gawking, talking amongst themselves as they wondered aloud what the hell couldâve happened to the groom overnight. You felt their stares turn to you in a mixture of pity and reproach, and you wanted to hide.
âJa-ames!â a sing-song voice trilled across the way.
You, Bucky, and Sam all stopped in your tracks to regard the duo that was making their swift approach over.
Buckyâs mom and dad.
As the older couple drew near, you half-expected to see them take on the same wan, horror-stricken look worn by all those around you, but to your surprise, they didnât.
In fact, they didnât bat an eyelid. Seeing their sonâs face all gnarled and bloody barely even registered.
âGood, youâre here! The photographers just arrived.â Buckyâs mother swept you into her arms for a brief embrace before shooting her son a frown. Your husband, in turn, offered her an apologetic peck on the cheek.
âSorry, ma. We got caught up,â he said.
âSure looks like it.â
That came from the elder Mr. Barnes, who had stopped to give his son a quick once-over. He looked amused.
âGet in a fight with a grizzly last night?â he quipped.
âThree, actually,â Sam answered for Bucky, who was already grinning from ear-to-earâor as much as his facial lacerations would allow him.
You saw father and son exchange a brief, knowing look, before it was extinguished just as fast as it had come. Clearly, some sort of understanding had passed between them, and the old patriarch seemed pleased. Proud, even. You couldnât begin to imagine why.
âThe bruising shouldnât be too hard to edit out of the wedding pictures,â Buckyâs mother turned to you as she started to lead the group away, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, âItâs those damn lesions on his face that always give us trouble.â
She spoke so coolly about the trauma done to her son it damn near chilled you to the bone. You never thought the wife of a mobster would be oblivious to all the violence, but to talk as though this were just another day in the life as far as brutal beatings went was a little unnerving.
You strolled along and silently wondered what the fuck was wrong with this family. Then you realized, slowly, that this was your family now. Your stomach twisted.
When you got to the garden where the photographers were stationed, you saw your parents waiting, enrapt.
And, in a matter of seconds, you watched their expressions morph from exuberance to confusion to outright trepidation. Your father was quick to look away, but your mother clearly couldnât be bothered to stop ogling Buckyâs gruesome appearance. She forced a tight-lipped smile at the very last second and stretched her arms out to you as the five of you approached.
âYouâre glowing, my dear.â
She hugged you and, over your shoulder, tried to mask a discomfited look.
Your mother and father exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group but seemed loath to linger on Bucky for more than a minute. Like they couldnât quite tell whether the honeymoon beatdown was fair game for discussion.
âPlaces, people!â
The photographers were lined up like a flock of paparazzi. Each standing, crouching, squatting with their cameras in their hands, trying to get just the right angle.
The person in charge quickly busied herself with directing and adjusting every one of your positions before the pictures were taken. Telling Buckyâs father to straighten his tie, your mother to brighten her smile, the bride to tilt her shoulders just a little bit more, and Bucky, would you please stop groping your wife?
That last command had come from his mother, actually. Bucky had been palming your ass above your dress, and his mom couldnât stand the thought of one camera capturing such crude behavior.
âMy hand slipped,â Bucky retorted, much to the amusement of a few photographers.
You and his mother gave him identical admonitory looks, but it was you who was close enough to say something.
Just when you opened your mouth to speak, though, an odd sense stopped you on a dime.
There was a warmth. In your panties. Then a slow and silent oozing sensation. You squeezed your thighs tight together and, instinctively, lowered your hand to your stomach, as if that would have any chance of stopping it.
A smirk tugged at Buckyâs lips just as the lead photographer told you all to smile and hold it.
âMy cum dripping out already?â he whispered, low as heâd ever spoken but still too loud for you to bear. His parents were literally standing right there.
âShut. Up.â You replied through gritted, smiling teeth.
âChin to me, Mrs. Barnes,â the lady in charge called out.
You did as you were told, and Buckyâs hand on your side pressed the flesh ever so slightly.
A series of shuttering sounds, then another directive.
âThink itâll stay in your panties?â Bucky managed delicately under his breath.
You didnât respond. At length, his seed was seeping out of your underwear. You bared an even brighter smile for the cameras and tried not to flinch when he squeezed you again.
âFeel it sliding down your thighs?â
âEyes forward, Mr. Barnes. Head up, andâhere, please.â
The man could barely peel his gaze, much less his hands, from your body. He stroked your hip with his thumb. Then, without warning, that same hand slid down to your rear and pushed into the fabric. You sucked in a breath.
âBucky.â
âWhat?â
âBehave,â you hissed, and from the corner of your eye you couldâve sworn you saw your mother turn her head.
Unfortunately for you, your husband would do no such thing. He just moved his hand even lower down your back and brushed the space around that spot with the tips of his fingers. You felt a shiver pass over you, along with a whole legion of goosebumps spreading fast across the skin.
If you werenât on camera and surrounded by family, you probably wouldâve liked to smack him upside the head.
As the cameras continued to fire away, Buckyâs touch trailed down to the outline of your panties through your dress and started rubbing small circles over the area.
âNow just the bride and groom!â
The rest of your family members stepped to the side, and it was only you and Bucky before the cameras now. Still smiling like bright, shiny dolls and communicating like ventriloquists, your lips barely moved as you spoke.
âHow âbout I push it back in?â
âBarnes, I will kill you.â
âNow kiss!â
At the direction of the lead photographer, you kissed your husband and felt a mixture of lust, hate, and love swell up inside of you. When you pulled apart, it was the latter of these three that was searing hot in your veins.
âI love you,â Bucky murmured with a grin.
âI love you, too.â
The rest of the morning passed away in much the same fashionâbeing pulled from place to place, person to person, while your filthy-minded husband kept whispering in your ear all the depraved things he was planning to do to you once he got you alone. It was romantic, in a way; just terrible for your poor panties.
You reluctantly mingled and laughed with some of the most boring people you thought youâd ever met in your lifeâthough perhaps you were a touch too horny to make a fair appraisalâand gradually, family and friends pulled you and Bucky further and further apart until you were just being carted around like show dogs and forced to hold the same conversation over and over again.
âYou look stunning.â
âBuckâs a lucky guy, Iâll tell you that.â
âAre you planning on having kids any time soon?â
You just smiled, nodded, and didnât have the guts to tell them that Buckyâs baby batter was baking inside you right now. That wouldâve been a fun one to watch the reactions from your uptight, intrusive relatives, though.
And speaking of Bucky, where the fuck had he gone?
Just twenty minutes ago heâd sworn he would have you bent over one of the hotel balconies overlooking the Aegean Sea, and now he was nowhere to be found.
Your parents were currently preoccupied with their second helpings of spanakopita, your in-laws draining mojitos like water, and Sam, like Bucky, completely MIA. No one else had seen hide nor hair of your husband in a little while, and frankly, your legs were growing tired of looking.
You let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Bucky sitting a ways away on the terrace with Sam and Steve huddled on either side of him. They looked to be deep in discussion.
Steve, Stevie, Rogers, or, simply, your husbandâs second in command, seemed strangely out of sorts as he clenched a fist and said something close to Buckyâs face.
You decided to let the three of them hash it out and to take a rain check on that balcony rendezvous for now.
At any rate, a pack of Pall Malls was calling your name.
You would fully concede this was a filthy habit you never should have startedâlike most fun things in lifeâbut the reprieve of a nicotine buzz was too tempting to refuse. You grabbed your clutch and took off toward the far end of the lawn, set for a small alcove apart from the party.
You slipped the lighter and cigarettes from your bag as you walked. The scent of pure salt and sea foam greeted your senses as soon as you drew close to the spotâless than a stoneâs throw away from the ocean.
Your hands had jammed the cancer stick in your mouth before your mind could make a single word of protest. You brought the lighter to life in your right palm and raised the flame to your cigarette until the end was lit.
Then you inhaled. Exhaled. Hoped no one would see you. You fanned the smoke from your face every so often.
Youâd taken up residence on a bench just shy of the beach, and finally, you could stretch your legs and rest.
Maybe indulge in some disgusting thoughts about your husband while you were at it.
If youâd told yourself just twenty-four hours ago that your mind and body would be on the fritz craving Buckyâs touch, you wouldnât have believed it. If someone had said sex, and cumming around someone you loved, was a worthwhile experience, you probably wouldâve told them they were full of shit. But here you were, splayed out on a bench by the shoreline thinking of nothing but the way your husbandâs cock felt inside you. Feeling his seed dried on your thigh and aching for a fourth helping.
You felt pathetic. Maybe you were.
In any case, you didnât really care.
You brought the near-spent cigarette up to your lips for the last couple puffs. When youâd plucked it back out, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.
Bucky! Your lust-addled brain all but squealed.
You turned much quicker than you meant and nearly jumped in your skin to see who was standing there.
A grinning, bright-eyed blond.
In a panic, you flicked your cigarette over your shoulder and forced a smile.
âHi.â
âHowdy.â
Okay, John Wayne, what the fuck? The man sounded, and looked, like something straight out of a western film.
âNo need to stop on my account,â he tipped his chin toward the cigarette on the ground, âI wonât snitch.â
His smile took on a shade of condescension, but the face seemed friendly enough. Then, to your surprise, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved something small and silver from it. He held it out to you.
âCourtesy of your husband,â he said.
You frowned. A flask?
âItâs not even noon,â you answered.
âBucky wanted me to relay the message that your mom invited a boatload more folks, and it donât seem theyâre fixinâ to leave anytime soon. Said you might need this.â
Gingerly, you accepted the gift and unscrewed the cap. You almost gagged when you got a whiff of pure vodka.
âFuckinâ A,â you coughed, âWhatâs this, nail polish remover?â
âStolichnaya. Canât talk shit until youâve tried it.â
Your eyes were still watering from the pungent stench of 80 proof spirits when you saw the manâs outstretched arm againâthis time, to shake your hand.
âJoey, by the way.â
You shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, blinking back a few tears.
âYouâre a friend of my husbandâs?â you asked.
âFrom the service, yeah. We go way back.â
You couldnât help but raise both brows in question.
âThe service,â you repeated.
âRussian Armed Forces,â Joey smiled.
And when the hell did Bucky plan on telling you he was a former foreign operative? You stared at the man before you in a medley of confusion and disbelief. Surely the thick Southern drawl had to mean he was joking.
âSorryâI thought you knew,â he said sheepishly.
Your husbandâs old comrade seemed genuinely contrite, blushing a shade of pink as he turned his gaze from you. You quickly regained your composure and flashed him a smile, insisting it was fine, just surprising to you is all.
âPerks of arranged marriage,â you said, âWeâre wed for life and I donât even know the guyâs job title.â
That earned a laugh from the tall, gaunt figure in front of you. His features visibly relaxed, and he wasnât smiling so smugly anymore. He motioned toward the bench.
âYou mind?â
âNot at all.â
You fished for a cigarette as Joey sat down beside you. When heâd taken a seat, you offered it to him, and he politely accepted.
With time, the two of you got to smoking and joking around with a little more ease. You didnât normally get to see that happenârarely seizing the opportunity to make friends of near-strangersâbut this weekend had already presented a bevy of firsts. What harm could a quick smoke break with Buckyâs old friend possibly do?
You found the man to be quick-witted and charming, if not marred by the slightest stain of conceit under the surface. He was objectively handsome: all cool, clean features with an unblemished demeanor and a set of brown eyes so light they almost appeared the color of honey in the sun. The only imperfection to be detected was a skewed, razor-thin scar on his chin. You werenât ashamed to admit he mightâve been your type maybe four or five years, and several degrees of naĂŻvetĂ©, earlier. But you had Bucky now; not even the most sublime, finely-chiseled Adonis could set your sights off of him.
You continued to smoke and shoot the shit.
âSo youâre a Puritan, then?â Joey said at length.
âHuh?â You leaned back to stretch.
âYou havenât touched that flask.â
You glanced down at the silver canteen between you. You picked it up.
âHavenât been into straight liquor since college,â you shrugged.
âBut itâs your wedding weekend,â Joey smirked, âThink it says somewhere in the rule book youâve gotta be hammered the whole time.â
âDoes it? I mustâve missed that one,â you hummed.
Rather than answer you verbally, Buckyâs old friend opted to snag the flask from your fingers and unscrew the top himself. Made an unusually bold move and took your chin in his other hand.
âOpen.â
âNo!â
You bared a tight smile to be polite, but inside, you were more than a little put off by his behavior. Maybe this was some stupid rite of passage into their âbrotherhood.â You had to assume he was just being friendly.
âCâmon. Quit bitchinâ and open up,â he chuckled, pinching your face even tighter.
That left an even more sour taste in your mouth. You jerked your head to the left and were just about to inform the man itâd cost him nothing to fuck off and stay off, when a voice broke out through the foliage behind you.
âHoney? Hon, you there?â
Immediate relief at hearing your husbandâs voice.
You craned your neck to look around.
âIâm here, Bucky!â You waved an arm to try and get his attention, wherever he was.
It took him a second, but shortly, he appeared on the other side of some trees. He had a stern, if not slightly sallow, look on his face as he made his way over.
You turned back to Joey but found that heâd vanished. Your eyes scanned the beach, the lawn, even the bushes behind you and couldnât find a trace of him anywhere. All that was left was the flask.
âBucky, I justââ
âWe need to go,â your husband cut in.
His narrowed, steely gaze sent a jolt of apprehension through you.
âGo whââ
âNow, baby, please. Iâll tell you in the car.â
Your face dropped.
âWeâre leaving?â
Shortly, Steve trotted over. Bleak as youâd ever seen him with his hands balled in fists at his sides. And a deep-set scowl.
âWhole fuckinâ swarm of âem now,â he pronounced.
Bucky didnât wait to hear another word. He just grabbed your hand and joined his friend sprinting back up the lawn. You could barely keep apace with their steps and, still clinging to Bucky, almost tripped and stumbled.
âGet the fuck up,â Steve spat.
You tensed. For a second, your feet scarcely moved of their own accord as you trailed behind Bucky and felt a stabbing feeling in your gut. Buckyâs best man had surely been a little rough around the edges before, but never this needlessly cruel. What did you do?
Your husband delivered an uncharacteristically gruff shove to the manâs shoulder and made sure he felt it.
âDonât you start this shit again,â he said, âLay off.â
Steve ignored him entirely and took the lead around the hotelâs perimeter. You glanced to the throngs of partygoers still scattered along the veranda and saw similar looks of disquiet and alarm all around.
Just when a dozen different questions of what was going on, where were they taking you, and why the fuck did everyone look so afraid bubbled to the tip of your tongue, a thunderous sound brought you to a standstill.
At the opposite end of the plaza, a cluster of tents, tables, and catering stations all splintered apart in a single, headlong explosion. A bright red column of fire shot up toward the sky, and following its ascent rose a wave of shrill and horrified screams alongside it. A barrage of gunfire rained over the crowd, and before you could even spare a look toward its source, Bucky yanked you flat on the ground. Your hands and knees were shredded across pavement, had less than a second to register the pain, and were shortly made to snake along concrete and glass toward the garden down below.
You crawled, then crouched, then bounded down the lawn following Bucky and Steve like a bat out of hell. Another explosion sounded nearbyâthis time much closer, sending a shower of flames sailing through the air and all overâand whole droves of people just dropped. Facedown in the grass and covered in glass. Bucky clamped your hand in his own with a force that couldâve snapped it in two, but you didnât blink. All of your senses were kicked into overdrive and focalized, unflinching, on the sight of more carnage than you could comprehend.
âHere!â Steve called presently.
He caught sight of a jet black sedan at the edge of the lawn and held a hand up to Bucky. A set of keys were promptly pelted into his grasp, and the three of you closed in on the car, quick, without another word.
Bucky tore the back door open and practically flung you inside. He primed himself to climb in right after, when a set of footsteps and a shout held him locked in place.
âHangarâs clear.â
Sam, by the sound of it.
He jumped in shotgun while Steve seized the wheel. Bucky hadnât gotten the back door so much as halfway shut before the engine roared to life and the car lurched ahead. Not thinking, you grabbed hold of a seatbelt, but Bucky was quick to pull you in and jerk you down.
You werenât sure what youâd been expecting then, but it certainly wasnât your husbandâs weight crushing you from above as he pinned you to the floor of the car.
This wasnât the seamless, smart exit that the heroes of the action-packed stories always had. Bucky didnât hold you tight in his arms or cradle your head to his chest. He just draped the weight of his whole body over yours and begged you strenuously not to move or make a sound. By the looks of it, too, the car was tearing up the turf of the lawn and anything else that happened to cross its path; there was no rhyme or reason to Steveâs driving, it seemed, just frantic desperation and a will not to die.
Minutes, seconds, sights, and soundsâor what little of the world you could grasp from your cowered positionâall bled together in a haze. Your pulse leapt and throbbed between your ears, and little more could be heard above that sound apart from the thrum of Buckyâs own heart, the thunder of gunfire, and the wail of sirens, coming low and faint and far too late to make much difference now.
You pressed your nose to the floor and got a dizzying whiff of nylon and bleach. Wouldâve like to retch but gritted your teeth instead, lying in silence and wondering without humor if the splinters, the soot, or the blood would be hardest to wash out of your white satin dress.
The price of admission to board Buckyâs Boeing 787 came surprisingly cheap: just sit back and be âpregnant.â
Youâd been flanked by medics as soon as you arrived at the hangarâa place tucked away just a few short miles from the hotel, where Bucky kept his aircraft for speedy escapes, apparentlyâand had been carried onto a jet. You didnât squirm or protest, just hung limply in their arms and let them tend to you however they needed.
After all, you looked like fucking Carrie White on prom night: coated in blood and stiff as a board. Sitting with a thousand-yard stare and a frozen, muted expression as you tried, and failed, to process what had just happened.
You watched Bucky kneel down in front of you and hardly saw him at all. You sensed him stroke your hair but felt it from a place somewhere far outside your body. Bizarre was an understatement. All you could do was blink.
âItâs notâ not her blood, is it?â your husband stammered, gesturing toward your dress.
âSome of it,â one nurse answered quietly.
Aw, hell. Bucky squatted on the floor and slotted himself between your knees, trying to get as close as possible so he could make you say something, even just see him. One of the attendants raised a warning look and placed a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugged off in a second.
âSheâs not looking at me,â Buckyâs lip visibly trembled as he drew you closer, âHoney, Iâm hereâ Iâm right hââ
âSheâs in shock.â Another voice came flatly.
Sure, shock works. In truth, your mind was floating somewhere even higher than the 43,000 feet the plane had ascended, and your brain had gone as soft as a clump of cotton candy in the rain. You couldnât speak, but you could think in bits and pieces. You blinked again.
âShe looks like death warmed over.â
Thank you, Steve.
Off to the side in a plush, leather seat of his own, the man nursed a scotch on the rocks and frowned. Bucky didnât have the strength to throw a punch or a pillow at his head and instead said only to shut the fuck up, man.
Your husband turned to the nurses again.
âSheâs pregnant.â
I beg your finest pardon? You blinked a bit harder.
âNo, sheâs not, Buck,â Sam said from down the aisle.
âWell, she could be,â Bucky chided, âWeâve been going at it like rabbits since theââ
âFuckâs sake,â Steve slapped a palm over his forehead. If you werenât currently balls-deep in a state of mental disarray you probably wouldâve done the same.
Bucky had made sure to tell all medical personnel aboard the plane that you wereâor very well could beâcarrying his child, so would you please take all precautionary measures possible? Sheâs my wife. You suspected if the doctors and nurses werenât all on Buckyâs payroll they probably wouldâve rolled their eyes and reminded him that all you needed were stitches, dressings, and extra fluids. And no, Mr. Barnes, your wife probably isnât pregnant, even if you think your sperm is âbuilt differentâ than most.
âSheâll be fine either way,â the medic on your left said, stifling a chuckle. Wondering if the man had ever taken a sex ed class in his years of prudish, private education.
Bucky wasnât convinced. Against all physiciansâ wishes, he climbed up beside you in the seat and pulled you into his lap with both arms wrapped around your waist.
By turns, the world was coming back into focus for you. You met Buckyâs gaze for the first time, and the man looked overjoyed.
âSee? See? Sheâs back.â Bucky squeezed your hipâand immediately released it when you winced.
âMind the bandages, Mr. Barnes.â
Your caregivers pro tempore shot your husband a couple wry looks as they packed their supplies and started to leave, getting the sense that their boss wasnât going to stop badgering them, or you, anytime soon. That worked just fine for Bucky, because then he would get to hold you any way that he liked, as long as youâd let him.
Steve, on the other hand, didnât seem quite as thrilled.
Sam watched the medicsâ departure with a wary look.
âShe probably needs to rest, Bucky,â the latter said, careful with his words.
Buckyâs eyes never strayed from yours.
âSheâs okay, Sam. Sheâs good.â Perhaps speaking more to himself than anyone else. Steve shifted in his seat.
In your periphery, Mr. Wilson was approaching with a glass in his hand. You turned your head, and Bucky accepted the cup of water for you.
âFeelinâ alright?â Sam asked.
You tried to nod, but your husband was already cradling your head like a baby, urging you to take your first sip.
A spate of water splashed down the front of your dress. You shot Bucky a look as he hastily tried to dry it.
âSheâs not a child, Barnes,â Steve muttered.
âShould probably keep that elevated,â Sam cut in, nodding toward your swollen ankle, âWeâll get some ice.â
Sam tilted his head again, this time to motion to Steve. His friend pretended not to see him, and then Bucky was back on his feet, keen as ever,
âIâll go.â
He kissed the top of your head and assured you heâd be right back. Heâd just started off toward the door, when Sam hesitated. He flitted a quick look between you and Steve and looked like he wanted to say something, but Bucky was already ushering him out of the room.
When you turned to Steve, you understood why.
The man had you pinned with a stare that couldâve killed you ten times over, fisting his drink in a white-knuckled grip.
You watched him right back. Tried hard not to blink.
âSomething wrong?â
You werenât sure how youâd even mustered the strength to speak. Steve just brought it out of you, you figured.
âYou tell me.â Tone dripping with disdain.
You raked your gaze over the man for a second, finding him dressed head-to-toe in his three piece suitâmuddied with blood here and there, but still no worse for wear than youâd seen him an hour or two ago. It was that frown you couldnât shake.
What had you done to piss him off so much? Shit in his cornflakes? Step on his toe? Had he seen you with Joey and jumped to the worst possible conclusion? You sincerely couldnât make sense of the manâs indignation, so you wanted to ask him directly; before you could, though, Steve was interjecting, at length,
âWe shouldâve left you to die with the rest of your family.â
Your jaw slackened a bit.
âWhat?â
âYou, your mother, your two-timing shitstain of a father. Every one of you shouldâve stayed there to rot.â
Never mind the fact that heâd just wished you dead to your faceâwhat did he mean about your parents?
âBut theyâre coming with us. Bucky said,â you managed.
âHe did?â Steve grinned humorlessly, âHe lied, doll. Your folks are probably bound and gagged at the bottom of the ocean right now.â
That sent the first real wave of fear pulsing through you. You slowly rose to your feet but, feeling yourself restrained by the makeshift IV line stuck in your skin, you stopped. You plucked the needle out of your arm.
âWhat are you talking about?â
You drew closer to Steve, who only sat back and sipped his scotch with amusement.
âWhat? That wasnât part of the plan?â he quirked a brow, âDidnât think anyone would dare lay a finger on your precious, self-righteous fucking familyââ
You hardly even noticed youâd swatted Steveâs drink out of his hand until the glass went shattering on the floor. You blinked and raised a shaky, bruised finger about an inch from his face.
âThe fuck did you just say to me?â Your jaw was clenched so tight you had to speak through your teeth.
Steve was beaming.
The door to the room flew open, and Bucky and Sam strolled in with their ice packs and pillows. They stopped when they saw the glass on the floor and your figure looming over Steve.
âYou picked a real spitfire, Buck,â the blond called out, his hands raised in surrender as he smiled up at you.
Bucky seemed more surprised that you were able to stand, much less take that menacing stance over his friend, and he quickly tried to guide you back to your seat. You wouldnât budge.
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?! Where are my parents?â You tried to shake your husband off as Steveâs grin grew even bigger.
âTheyâre fine, honey. Sit down, please,â Bucky mumbled.
âNo! He said they were dead!â you shot back, eyes never leaving the smug, smirking face that seemed to be enthralled by the spectacle in front of him.
âWhy donât you tell her, Buck? Girl deserves to know.â
âShut the fuck up, Rogers,â Sam uttered quietly.
âTell me what?â
âItâs nothing, your parents are fine,â Bucky seemed pensive now, gaze scanning the ceiling for a second as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shoved his hands off.
âDonât you fucking lie to me, James,â you said, diverting your attention to glare up at him, âWhatâs going on?â
âEither sheâs a world-class actress or she really doesnât have the first clue about this. Enlighten her.â Steve seemed a little more serene as he unscrewed a bottle of Talisker and reached for a second glass. You wouldâve liked to knock back one or twoâor tenâyourself.
You turned on your heels to face Bucky. At the moment, he seemed torn between imparting a death black stare on Steve and a placating, apologetic one to you. The tips of his ears were tinged pink.
âBabyââ He reached for you, but you pulled back.
âNo.â
You wouldnât ask him again. Your husband was wounded by the sight of your recoilâand perhaps by some painful truths heâd be compelled to share as wellâand he wrung his hands. Started to chew the inside of his cheek.
Sam snagged the scotch and made a heavy pour.
âWhyâd you marry him?â Steve said suddenly.
Buckyâs face dropped; you raised a brow in question. Before your husband could stop you, you answered,
âBecause my dad was in debt.â
âFor what?â
You paused.
âReal estate. Gambling. Fuck if I know.â
Steve nodded. Ignored Buckyâs sharp, reproachful gaze.
âAnd how much money did he owe?â he asked.
âSteve,â Sam warned.
âFour, five millionâmore than he could ever repay.â
This time, it was Steve to raise both brows as he mulled over your response. He almost looked surprised.
âYouâre forced to marry a man just to settle a debt and you donât even know the price that tight little bodyâs paying?â he scoffed.
His words hadnât hung in the air for much longer than a second before Bucky decked him, shoving him square in the chest and sending him stumbling back a couple steps. A splash of whiskey was quick to join the bloodstains adorning Steveâs tux, and the pile of broken glass on the floor grew even bigger. The man hardly flinched when Bucky shoved his head to the end table.
âSay it again.â Your husband sounded dispassionate as ever. Like this was something he was used to doing.
âShe shouldâve known!â Steve snapped anyway.
You shared a brief look with Sam but found his expression inscrutable. He kicked a few shards of glass with the toe of his shoe.
âI wasnât exactly in a place to negotiate,â you grumbled, âThey were going to kill my father if we didnât settle it, so I wasnât all that interested in knowing how much money my A1 cunt was gonna cost Bucky. Personally.â
If he could go low, you would go lower. Fuck him.
You saw Steve grin through a freshly busted lip and straighten himself back into a seated position. He wiped the blood with the pad of his thumb while Bucky seemed to contemplate swinging again. The look in your eye cautioned him against it.
âFair enough,â Steve conceded. He stopped to consider his wordsâones that wouldnât prompt Bucky to punch him directly in the throatâand looked to you, curious,
âWhy would the mob kill him over a few million dollars?â
You shrugged.
âHeâs a real estate broker. They probably knew he couldnât fork over that kind of cash.â
Something akin to a stifled chuckle and a cough sounded from Sam, while Steve outright broke out laughing. Even Buckyâs expression softened a little as he rubbed his knuckles and paced closer to you.
âWhat?â you spat, âDid I say something funny?â
Sam shook his head slowly, starting, âI donât thinkââ
âYour daddyâs a fucking gunrunner, sugar,â Steve wheezed, âHead of a multinational arms trafficking syndicateâmotherfucker is not selling houses.â
Your insides churned with a mixture of disbelief and revulsion, but you couldnât let them see that. When Bucky reached for your hand, you yanked it back again.
âAnd how the fuck would you know?â you said to Steve.
âWe work with him. Used to work for him, at one point,â Sam answered.
âAnd the man is horseshit at businessââSteve paused to see if Bucky had shot him a warning look but found your husband far too concerned with capturing your attentionââHe was $90 million in the hole when Bucky came to the rescue.â
âJames?â You finally turned to him.
âAnd your daddy didnât even owe the money to Bucky, he owed it to HYDRA,â Steve sneered.
âJames,â you pressed again.
You couldnât understand why your husband refused to speakâgoing as deadpan and radio silent as the night before. He stood there and watched you with a rigid, inflexible gaze.
âHYDRA as inâ the Russian mob?â you asked him.
âNo, the Girl Scouts,â Steve huffed, âYes, the mob.â
âSchröderâs boys. Your dadâs been in business with them for yearsâowed them a lot of money,â Sam added.
âAnd your dad and Buckyâs dad have been friends even longer. So Bucky figured heâd do yours a favor and pay the debt himself.â Steve seemed eager to tell this story.
All the while, the hue of Buckyâs cheeks grew even deeperâlike he didnât want this coming to light. He sensed you wouldnât stand down until youâd heard the whole ugly truth, though, so he held your gaze and watched you grow more repulsed by the second.
âThen whyâd he need me? Just another bartering chip?â Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, âA pawn?â
âA peace offering,â Bucky said quietly.
Steve and Sam finally clammed up long enough to let him speak, but your husband seemed taciturn as ever.
âYour father didnât owe me anything. I wouldâve paid his debt and left it at that, but he insisted Iâ that we marry. He wanted an alliance no subsequent financial incentive could disrupt. He would take the money I gave him, pay HYDRA, and bow out of any future dealings with them. Our marriage was supposed to guarantee that.â
Bucky spoke slow, like every word was a labored breath. Hardly the same could be said for his friends.
âThat was until your dipshit weapons dealer daddy decided heâd have his cake and eat it too. Struck an even sweeter deal with HYDRA and played in our faces,â Steve said.
âAt the direction of Mr. Schröder, your father tried to intercept a shipment bound for one of Buckyâs warehouses in Brooklyn,â Sam continued, âOnly problem is he fucked up the execution and cost Schröder a dozen men and tens of millions of dollars in artillery and blow.â
âSo Schröder paid him a visit today,â Bucky muttered.
Without realizing it, you found yourself sinking into the nearest seat and bringing a hand to lay flat on your stomach. You felt sick. More than woozy, truthfully. Your head was spinning and your stomach was twisting something terrible, as if youâd just ingested cyanide.
Fuck, did you need a drink.
You couldnât look at Bucky or Steve or Sam any longer.
You reached for your clutch and pulled out Joeyâs flask.
And, bloodlusting mobsters and outlaws be damned, the Russians knew how to make the hell out of some vodka. A single sniff of the stuff told you this was exactly what you would need to cope with your current situation.
âSo you think I had something to do with the new HYDRA deal?â you asked, âYou honestly thâFUCK!â
Bucky lunged for the flask in your hand before you could take a single pull. He snatched it away in the blink of an eye and shot you a look.
âLiquor? For our baby?â he barked.
You audibly groaned and were just about to tell him that his understanding of human reproduction was a crock of shit when you stopped. You saw his expression change.
âWhere did you get this?â Bucky asked, suddenly pale.
âYou, dumbass!â
âMe?â
Bucky was presently passing the flask around to his friends, who were eyeing a spot on the bottom of the container with shared looks of alarm.
âYour friend gave it to me earlier saying that you wanted me to have it,â you said.
All three men looked up at once.
âWhat friend?â Sam asked.
âJoey,â you answered, âBuckyâs friend from the army.â
If it were possible for your husband to get any paler his skin mightâve turned the color of cottage cheese. His eyes were wide with fear.
Then he was hurrying to your side. Taking your hand.
âWhat friend from the army? Whatâd he look like?â
You were still scanning Buckyâs face, trying to make sense of the apprehension etched into his features, when you managed,
âI-I dunno. Blond. Light brown eyes.â
âTall fella?â Steve asked.
âVery.â
âHave a German accent?â Sam pressed.
âNo, a real thick Southern accent,â you shook your head. It didnât occur to you then that it couldâve been fake.
You were about to turn your attention back to Bucky, brow still knit in confusion, when a vague memory crossed your mind. You looked up at Sam and Steve.
âHe had aââ You tapped your chin lightly, ââa little scar right here.â
You wouldâve thought youâd just announced you had a bomb strapped to your ass the way the three men reacted. Each wore identical looks of disbelief and muted horror, exchanging looks between themselves as if theyâd just discovered the Atlantic Oceanâand found the Loch Ness Monster lurking somewhere underneath.
Bucky looked the worst out of all of them. His face had drained of all expression and color as he stared at you.
âJoey?â he intoned feebly.
âYes,â you answeredâfeeling ineffectual, even dense, for not catching on to what the rest of them had discovered.
Fortunately, Sam wouldnât let you wallow in ignorance.
âJohann Schröder,â he supplied in a second, âThe man you were talking to was Mr. Schröder, head of HYDRA.â
Steve held the flask in his grasp for you to see the bottom, where a skull with six tentacles was engraved. Then he tipped the canister into a glass heâd taken in his other hand and watched a frothy pink liquid spill out.
âLooks to be a serum of his,â Steve said, hollow as youâd ever heard him, âKind of likeâŠroofies.â
âYou didnât drink any of it, did you?â Sam asked.
âNuh-uh. Bucky showed up right as he was trying to, uhâ to pour it in my mouth.â
A beat of silence gripped the room.
Bucky looked like he might burst a blood vessel, or someoneâs skull. Or both.
Still, he wouldnât speak to you.
The inside of your head was throbbing.
You almost preferred the ruthless, irate glint in Steveâs eye when heâd suspected you of being a traitor the first time around; this cloyingly sympathetic gaze he was giving you now had to be the most maddening thing. He and Sam both looked on at you like you were a victim. Like you were something to be pitied, or coddled, or left to the capable hands of your husbandâa motherfucker who couldnât even speak so much as a syllable to you.
You felt a pressure build, then swell, then peak between your temples, and you wanted to wince but couldnât stand the thought of looking weak in front of them.
Then your nose started to bleed.
That, at least, woke Bucky from his reverie as he fumbled around for a napkin and helped you to your feet. He looped an arm around your waist and led you off to the bathroom, his grip tightening on your frame with every step you took.
In two minutes flat, you were flooded with fifteen feet of toilet paper and tissues. Bucky cupped the back of your head in one of his broad, warm palms and kept it plastered there as he instructed you to hold it, honey, hang on, I can grab a few extra rolls right here and guided you toward a private area at the back of the plane.
You could scarcely see above the bunched up wads of Charmin Ultra Strong pressed close to your nose, but you trusted Bucky wouldnât lead you astray. You felt the welcome touch of a bed underneath you, and then your husband was helping you settle in amongst the pillows and the blankets and the rose petals that had been scattered around beforeânot entirely appropriate now, but a nice touch nonethelessâand slipping your shoes off your feet. You felt his hand graze your ankle, and then he was saying heâd be right back with those ice packs.
You reached for his hand before he could leave.
âI donât want it,â you said, your voice slightly muffled by the tissues, âWant you to talk to me, James.â
Buckyâs brow pinched inward. He kneeled down in front of you, where you were sitting on the edge of the bed.
âI amâ Iâm talking to you right now, honey, Iââ
âYou know what I mean.â
Bucky wiped his hand down his face and shook his head. Like he was trying to rid himself of a thought.
âI donât want to talk about HYDRA. Or your father,â he said simply.
âWhy not?â
âYouâre not in the right place to hear it.â
You plucked the toilet paper away from your face long enough to give him a stern glare.
âWeâre on a plane. Fleeing Greece. After you got curb-stomped in our honeymoon suite, our post-wedding brunch was bombed by the Russian mob, I was almost drugged by their leader, and my parents are probably as good as dead, if not being held for ransom, as we speak. Please tell me a better place to have this conversation.â
Bucky was left stumped for a second. Then he slowly rose back to his feet.
âOkay.â
Infuriating.
âOkay?â you snapped, âWe couldâve died five times today and all you can say is okay?â
âUh-huh.â
Fuck this guy. You wiped your nose and stood up too.
Bucky tried to nudge you back onto the bed, wary of the ever-growing number of bumps, bruises, and nosebleeds afflicting your body. He tensed when you nudged him right back.
âI need to see my family,â You stood firm, âAs soon as we land wherever it is weâre going, Iâm on the first flight back to New Yorkâor wherever they are.â
You dabbed at your nose once more and looked up at him.
âNo, youâre not,â Bucky returned.
âWhat? Youâre gonna stop me?â
âYes, I will.â
The worst part was he wasnât even smug about it. Just calm and self-assured. You flung your tissues to the side and threw your hands up in exasperation, feeling the need to step away from him and start pacing the room. The manâs reticence was grating on your nerves.
âWhy bother, Buck?â you snorted, âItâs not like Iâm even your wife, really. Iâm just a peace offering that you get to bend over and fuck every now and then, right?â
You turned to make your first circuit around the foot of the bed but were shortly met with the expanse of Buckyâs chest. You looked up to find him frowning.
âDonât say that again,â he glowered down at you.
Unlike most times before, you didnât flinch. When he reached for your wrists, you didnât let him win.
âIâm not your wife,â you repeated, âWe may be playing the most fucked up game of mob charades, but this is not a real marriage.â
You ignored Buckyâs evident desire to grab hold of something of yours and side-stepped easily, expanding the gap between you two as much as you could. It was almost amusing to see him not in control for once, and floundering to recover what semblance of it he could.
âYou are my wife,â he insisted, frown growing deeper as you crept along the edge of the room, âEverything I do now is for youâitâs not a goddamn game to me.â
âYou used me for some Machiavellian marriage ploy! That is the definition of a game, James!â
âI donât even know what the fuck that means,â Bucky said, âBut I love you.â
âYou met me yesterday, motherfucker!â
You could feel another bloody nose rising in your bones. You turned around, swiped your lip with the back of your hand and were surprised to see nothing there. You waited for the bleeding to start back up again. When you turned, Bucky had closed the distance between you and was holding something in his hand.
Before you could protest, he was smoothing the thing over your faceâapparently heâd grabbed a washcloth and dampened itâand laced his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. He held you firmly as he blotted the blood.
âIs it so hard to believe that I love you?â he asked quietly.
He was trying hard to placate you, but his actions were having just the opposite effect. You let him wipe the blood from your face but watched him begrudgingly.
âYou want someone to control, Bucky,â you said, âLove is not a power play that you get to manipulate at will.â
Bucky blinked, trying to conjure up a response as he daubed the skin with a little more force. You werenât finished.
âYou look at me and see a victim. Someone you need to watch overâ who canât take care of themseââ
âThatâs not true.â
âReally? Thatâs not what a âgood little wifeâ is to you?â you retorted.
At last, Bucky tossed the hand towel to the side and ran a hand through his hair. He stepped toward the dresser, shrugging off his suit jacket.
âThatâs aâ a bit I do when Iâm horny. I donât actually want you subservient to me,â he muttered as he looked around for a hanger. Finally, he just draped the coat over the back of a chair and sighed.
âSo holding me hostage from my family is a bit, too?â you quizzed.
âTo keep you safe from the people who tried to kill them. Iâm sorry I donât want to see you butchered because of me,â Bucky returned with just as much biting sarcasm.
âThatâs rich coming from you.â You despised the indignation in your tone but couldnât help it. These thoughts had been brewing inside your skull for hours. You watched Bucky struggle to undo his bow tieâjust like the night beforeâand, again, your brain barely registered the action before you were reaching for the garment and tugging at the fabric to loosen it yourself.
âWhat are you talking about?â Bucky asked, brow furrowed.
âLast night,â you yanked harder than you meant to. The knot just got tighter, âAnd today. Tonight. Youâre as still as the fucking grave and wonât say a word when something bad is happening. You just let it happen.â
You tried to pry your fingers through the tie but found it stiff as ever. You groaned inwardly.
âNo, I donât,â Bucky objected.
âYouâre doing it right now! You wouldnât tell me about HYDRA, or my father, or the guy who couldâveâ hurt me. You didnât say a word of that to me, and you expect me to believe weâre in this together? That youâre trying to keep me safe? You couldnât evenââ you paused to pull at that stupid tie your husband had tangled about four times over, finally feeling it give way a littleââcouldnât even pretend to give a fuck when those men broke in last night and almost killed us!â
Just as you freed the silk from its knot, Bucky seized your wrist. Shoved your hand off of his collar.
âI had to do that,â he snapped.
He threw his tie to the floor and started to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. The sight of his broad, veiny forearms were only visible to you for a second before he headed toward the closet, peeling off bits and pieces of his ensemble as he walked.
âYou didnât do anything, Bucky! You just sat there and got the shit beat out of you for no fucking reason! You didnât even try to fight back.â
Bucky had just muscled his way out of the confines of his dress shirt, leaving him in a tight, plain white tee. He turned to you with what seemed like the most pointed look of disdain.
âYou think I wanted to do that?!â he barked. Suddenly facing you head-on, skin flushed a shade just shy of crimson.
âYou were too chickenshit. Didnât wanna get your hands dirty, so you let Sam do it for you,â you seethed.
Your husband looked as though he wanted to put his fist through a wall and pummel it several times over. Seemed like he did, anyway. In truth, he didnât moveâjust watched you with the most cruel, unflinching gaze as he clenched his jaw.
âIâm chickenshit?â he repeated.
âYeah. Coward,â you spat.
âToo much of a coward to keep you safe?â
âPrecisely.â
At long last, you saw Bucky smile. It was the tightest, most humorless grin that had ever crossed his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless. He raised a hand over your head and bracketed his arm against the wall so he was leaning over you. Not meant to intimidate per se, but the sight of that smirk was unnerving, to say the least.
âDid you hear what language they spoke?â he asked, voice unbearably low as he drew his face closer to yours.
âIt sounded likeââ
âRussian, thatâs right,â Bucky cut in, âDo you know what they said to me when they pulled us to the floor?â
You swallowed and said nothing. Buckyâs breaths were fanning hot across your cheeks, sending waves of a strange sensation all throughout your bodyâyou werenât sure if you were meant to be aroused or scared shitless.
âThey told me, âIf you move, weâll kill her,ââ Bucky deadpanned as he began to trace the wallpaper beside your head with a single, bloodied finger, ââIf you fight, weâll dismember her and set fire to every piece of her body in front of you.â Or something to that effect.â
The repetition of their words seared your veins like a legion of flames. You could picture them saying it. Grabbing hold of Buckyâs head by the roots of his hair and beating him over and over and over, threatening your life if he made a single move to stop it.
âBuckyââ you started.
âI know they meant it, too. HYDRA operatives make good on their promises if they really set out to harm someone.â
Your husbandâs grin had transformed into something more of a crooked, downcast grimace, just baring his teeth as he tried not to lose his composure. Guilt flooded his face.
âI know I shouldâve told you then. And after. I shouldâve told you about your father as soon as Steveâs informant told us. I justââ Bucky stopped to swallow; he couldnât meet your gazeââI didnât want that hanging over your head. Not after everything that happened last night.â
It was like a blade had just twisted in your stomach. Your throat ached. You wanted to touch him but were almost too scared to ask. He looked so fragile.
âI am a coward. And controlling. Probably the most chickenshit, overbearing son of a bitch you couldâve been unfortunate enough to marry.â For a moment, Buckyâs gaze flickered to yours, and you saw a blooming red hue around the blues of his irises, âBut thatâs not how Iâm supposed to love youâor going to love you.â
You werenât sure how to reply; you tried raising a hand to his cheek, just to touch the skin, but decided against it.
âIâve been a shit husband, fake or not. Iâm sorry.â
Fake husband maybe, but the look on his face was intractably authentic. Palpable. He blinked as though trying to clear the warm and heady feelings from his expressionâsuddenly not wanting you to see the shades of his emotions painted thereâand focused instead on a few stray strands of hair that had blown over your face. He got very invested in those, all of a sudden.
While your husband stroked the corners of your face and fixed his gaze away from yours, you felt the smallest prick of warmth spark within you. Bucky looked soft and serene and sincere in his apology, defenseless now as he grazed his knuckles over your cheek and said it again,
âIâm sorry, honey. Iâm so sorry.â
He paired his apology with a rapid succession of little kisses pressed to your forehead, moving his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.
You wanted to touch him, too. You almost felt as though you didnât know how.
So you stood there and accepted his affections and tried to nod your head when he asked if you were alright, were you hurting any, baby? You leaned into the gentle pressure of his fingertips taking stock of every cut and bruise youâd sustained over the course of that day, watched Buckyâs brow furrow with each new discovery, and tried not to let his touch stray far down your body.
You wanted to be the one with your hands on himânow more than ever.
When Buckyâs hand trailed over your chin, you tilted your head just slightly to kiss it. Your husband didnât think much of it, just smiling down as tender as he always did, when your lips really grazed over the skin. You pressed a kiss to his finger and wordlessly urged him to move it further. Now it was Buckyâs turn to be at a loss for what to do as you took the tip of his thumb between your lips and suckled it, gently.
âHoney,â he let out a sigh, half-encouragement and half-warningâwhat were you trying to do?
You glided your mouth down his finger so half of his thumb was enveloped inside. You sucked it again.
âYou canâtâŠâ Bucky maintained feebly, eyes briefly scouring all the cuts and bruises across your skin. He didnât want to see you strain yourself any further.
But whatever pain this might cause was ancillary to you; you curled your tongue around the digit and moaned lightly.
The taste of one finger alone was enough to send you into a frenzy. That and the fact that he had been so open and honest and attentive to your needs made every bone in your body want to jump his. Something about a man taking accountability for his actions and communicating them in a way that didnât intimidate or belittle you was refreshing. Sexy, almost. Admittedly, the bar for mob boss husbands was hovering somewhere deep in hell, but you admired Buckyâs efforts all the same.
You popped his thumb out of your mouth and smiled.
âYou worry too much, Mr. Barnes.â
The echo of his words from earlierâthe ones heâd said as he was railing you against a mirrorâmade Buckyâs cock twitch. His gaze trailed down to the sheen of saliva on your lip, and he almost folded on the spot. He swallowed.
âDonât wanna hurt you, bunny,â he murmured as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and peered up at him.
âHurt me how?â
You really hadnât meant to sound like such a tease when youâd said it, but it was hard not to come across that way when you were watching him like that.
And sinking to your knees, with your eyes glued on his.
Bucky sucked in a breath as you kneeled between his feet and nudged the seam of his pants with your nose. He felt so big against your face, you almost couldnât fathom how heâd fit inside of you the night before. You were amazed how quickly heâd gotten hardâas if the two of you werenât just having a heart-to-heart a second agoâand you felt your own arousal pool in your panties.
âYou know I donât mind if it hurts. Love the way you stretch me out anyhow,â you continued, and tried not to smirk as you imagined a dozen filthy images from last night flash before Buckyâs mind.
You heard him stifle a groan when you ghosted your lips over the bulge in his pants and felt him swell even more. Your mouth watered at the sound, the sensation, the raw anticipation of what was to come and knowing that you got to dictate what happened. You undid the button and the zip of his pants and damn near drooled at the sight.
Even confined to his boxers, Bucky looked fucking huge.
Suddenly, you began to understand how needy he had been the night before when heâd first wedged his face between your legs and gotten a taste of you. You hadnât so much as sampled an inch of his cock, and you were already aching to swallow him whole.
âYou have no idea what you do to me,â Bucky grunted as he planted a hand on the wall in front of him. You kissed the outline of his clothed erection and earned a full-throated groan.
Well, that makes two of us, you wanted to say but were too busy palming him through his boxers to utter a word. Soaking in the sight of him with every sweet, soft groan he made and wanting to be the reason for even more.
âCan I take you in my mouth, daddy?â you asked softly.
Bucky flattened his palm against the wall and nodded. Beyond words as you worked him out of his boxers.
For one, fleeting moment, you almost wanted to walk back your big talk when his cock sprung out of the fabric. You really hadnât seen his length at all last nightâtoo busy having it stuffed inside your cunt to get a good lookâbut holy shit was it an intimidating sight. You werenât sure if it was just the nerves of this being your first time giving head or if Bucky truly was that massive, but you felt your courage start to crumble before your eyes.
My husband is hung like a fucking horse and Iâve never fit anything bigger than a couple fingers in my mouth. This should go well.
Bucky was evidently so turned on that he didnât notice the apprehension in your expression. After all, you were moving your lips down his cock and seizing the base of him with what looked like excitement.
Should IâŠlick it first?
It seemed you would have to learn all of this on the job. You stuck your tongue out and ran it up the length of his shaft.
When Bucky groaned in response, you sensed that that was okay. You pressed a few kisses on the underside of his member and scrambled to think of what else to do.
âFuck, baby,â your husband let out the most guttural sound as you squeezed his length in your hand. Then, to your surprise, he seized a fistful of your hair between his fingers and rutted his hips, pushing the head of himself against your lips, âTake me in your mouth.â
You heard the Kill Bill sirens blare between your ears but said nothing. You could do thisâyouâd be fine.
Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and Bucky gripped your hair even tighter. Let out a deep, satisfied moan like this was exactly what he needed. You liked that noise and wanted to take him even further.
What you didnât expect was four more inches shoved inside your mouth before you could stop to take a breath.
The whole girth of his cock made a sharp intrusion, causing your cheeks to stretch and hollow out around him. The head of his member barely grazed the back of your throat, and still, you gagged. And not only gagged but choked, as though someone had just tried to scrub your tonsils with a fine-bristle toothbrush. Unfortunately for you, Buckyâs dick did not taste like spearmint.
He pulled his cock out as quickly as heâd pushed it in.
âSorry. Shit, sorry.â Bucky blinked twice to get out of that blissed-out headspace and shot you a sheepish look.
The man had rarely been obliged to slow down or take five when his old, ever-changing flavors of the night sucked him off beforeâmost blew him without trouble. But you, kneeling there batting your lashes through a few more tears than expected, seemed uncertain. Even half of his shaft made for a tight fit in your mouth, Bucky thought with some guilty feelings of arousal. He watched you wipe your chin with the back of your hand and frown.
âWe donât have to do this if you donât want to, baby,â Bucky said, stroking the top of your head.
Suddenly, the frown was turned in his direction.
You raised a brow.
âWhy? That all you got, Barnes?â
Bucky couldnât help but chuckleâand grunt, a littleâwhen you grabbed the base of his cock and brought it down to your swollen pout. His hand instinctively moved back to the wall.
âHoney, are you sââ
He stopped the second you rubbed him up and down and pressed a kiss on the most sensitive skin.
âMy mouth isnât made of paper mĂąchĂ©. You can fuck it a little harder than that,â you said, running your touch down his length while holding his gaze. You looked eager.
Before Bucky could respond, you took the tip of his cock between your lips. Flattened your tongue and glided your mouth down as far as it could go before your cheeks started to hurtâthen bobbed your head even further. One of your husbandâs hands made a fist in your hair while the other scraped the wall, and you could tell it was taking some serious effort not to rut his hips out of habit.
Be gentle, be gentle, your dick barely fits in her mouthâ
ââfucking hell you feel good,â he groaned.
Bucky took one look and could have cum on the spot.
It was one thing to feel you licking and sucking and stretching to accommodate his length, and another thing entirely to see you knelt in front of him with the worldâs sweetest gaze, mouth stuffed full of his cock and eyes all but rolling back at the overwhelming sensation. Youâd nearly made it all the way to the short tufts of hair on his lower abdomenâand looked so pretty doing it.
Bucky fucking loved it. And you. And fucking you, your face, any place he could fit himself, quite frankly. He stared down at you struggling to take his cock and felt a strange new wave of desire pulsing through his body.
âYou like that, doll? Like when daddy fucks that slutty little mouth of yours?â
âBarely fits but you take it so well, bunny.â
âMy good little wife and her pretty fucking mouthâlikes sucking daddyâs cock however deep he needs it, huh?â
You liked it more than the air in your lungs, to be honest. Only problem was you couldnât quite speak your mind with your mouth full of Bucky, so you had only to nod. Your husband groaned when you hummed along his length and bobbed your head to answer âyes.â He saw you try not to gag and decided to thrust a little deeper.
He watched his cock drag back and forth along your tongue and took hold of your hair like a vice, fucking your face until your chin and cheeks were drenched with spit. Every now and then heâd pull his cock out just long enough to ask how bad you wanted him in your mouth, how desperate you were to taste him again, and every time youâd answer a little more sweetly and incoherently than before, eyes glazed with desire and mouth open for more.
You were amazed youâd lasted as long as you hadâhow quickly youâd devolved into this pliable, doe-eyed cocksleeve for Bucky and how keenly you desired to please him even more. It felt pornographic and lewd and somehow still loving as he plowed in and out of your mouth and sang your praises like no man had before.
Above you, Bucky was aching for release but adamant that he wouldnât cum down your throatânot yet, at least.
His mind was alight with those pesky, primal thoughts again, and every time he watched you swallow him whole, he just wanted to fuck his cum someplace else.
Bucky wasnât sure if he was smitten or simply dominated by carnal desire; all he knew was that he wanted to give you his babies.
Lots and lots of babies.
A hundred or more, if he had it his way.
Again, you barely had a chance to take a fresh breath before Bucky threw you onto the bed. Youâd just tried to steady yourself in a semi-seated position when the man shoved you back in the pillows and slotted himself between your legs, pupils blown wide with hunger.
In a blink, you were flipped onto your stomach with your ass yanked high in the air. Back made to arch, toes about to curl, you closed your eyes and sank your teeth into the sheets, moments away from begging your husband to fuck you right then and there, but Bucky had other plans. He seized the hair at the crown of your head and jerked your head to face forward.
The first thing to greet you was your own reflectionâin a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the foot of the bedâfollowed by Buckyâs broad form steadying behind you. You watched him wet his lips, furrow his brow, and use one careful hand to guide the head of his cock to your entrance. Completely piqued with arousal as you were, weeping beads of desire from that place between your legs, you almost wanted to buck your hips and fuck him yourself.
You refrained.
Bucky pressed the tip of himself to your clit and met your gaze in the mirror when you let out a whimper.
âYou didnât mean it, did you?â he asked, tone suddenly dropped to that of a stoic.
âMean what?â
It took an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the moan in your throat when Bucky dragged his cock down the seam of your cunt and rubbed every hot, throbbing inch of himself in the slickness between your folds. You were quick to take the sheets in your hands and squeeze as tight as you couldâyou wouldnât let him win that easy.
âWhen you said you werenât my wife. Did you mean it?â Bucky was coating himself now, rolling his hips back and forth while you seized the white linens for dear life.
âNo. I didnât,â you said through your teeth. Your eyelids fluttered with the feel of him circling your sensitive hole.
âDo you want to be my wife?â Bucky had to have known it was an asinine question, but he asked it all the same.
âYes.â
âYou do?â
âI do. I do. Now will you just fuck me already?â
In response, and as if to make a mockery of your request, Bucky just pressed the head of his cock inside you and watched you close in the mirrorâdaring your hips to move back another inch.
âWhat else do you want to be, doll?â
To say your mind was an empty slate bare of anything but the desire to be fucked was an understatement. You fumbled to find words.
âYour wife, your girlâ thatâs it, Bucky.â
Your husband nudged his cock a little deeper.
âA good girl?â he hummed.
âYes, daddy,â you cried and clenched around him.
Bucky stayed where he was and stretched your wet, aching hole with just his tip, making the worldâs most shallow thrusts as he flattened his hand on your back and made sure it stayed arched while he teased you.
At this point, you didnât care what the man saw or heard. You fought with your hips and whined into the sheets.
âBucky!â
âWanna be my obedient little cockslut?â he asked.
âUh-huh.â
âMy bunny?â
âYes, James.â Your cheeks were enflamed, almost hot to the touch.
Bucky suddenly drove himself inside you all the way to the hilt. He squeezed your hip in one hand and with the other slipped a finger between your folds to rub vicious, tight circles against your clit as you bucked and moaned beneath his touch.
âHow about a momma?â he pressed, almost too low to be heard, âWanna be that, too?â
His hips fell into a quick and easy rhythm against your ass, stretching you wide and filling you up almost seamlessly. Your mind was too consumed with pleasure and him to think much else, but barely, you managed,
âW-what?â
Bucky delivered a thrust that knocked the breath from your chest, leaning down to rub your clit even harder.
âDo you want to be a mommy? Have me fill you up and put my baby inside you?â
Oh, fuck. Fuckingâwhat the fuck? Your toes curled as a new jolt of pleasure shot through you, and your gaze locked with Buckyâs in the mirror. He knew exactly what he was doing.
âNoâ James, weâre not, shitââ you stopped to take a breath as he fucked you rough from behind, smirking the whole time, âWeâre not ready for that.â
âLook prettyâŠready to me,â Bucky stifled a groan when you squeezed around him and made obscene little noises sliding up and down his cock. He watched the way your pretty, wet pussy stretched and swallowed him down to the base and imagined it dripping with his cum. He snapped his hips against your ass even faster.
It wasnât clear just who was more overcome with desireâboth of you blissed out and fuckdrunk as youâd ever beenâand then Bucky flipped you onto your back.
He wanted to see your face as he fucked you slow this time, lips hovering mere inches from your own as he dragged his cock gently in and out of you.
âJames,â you breathed, digging your heels in his back with a wordless plea to speed up, baby, please.
In truth, you just knew what would happen if Bucky had the advantage of slow and soft sex with a mouth lowered close to your ear. How heâd shower you with kisses and bring you right to the edge, rolling his hips against your body with strings of sweet praises flowing fast off his tongue.
âJust one, honey,â he mumbled, lips grazing the edge of your jaw, âOne baby and I promise weâll be done.â
Yeah fucking right, you wanted to return with a roll of your eyes but felt your insides churn as he grazed that spot.
âCan you do that for me, doll?â he eased his dick back and forth and snaked a hand between your bodies until his palm was laying flat on your stomach, âFit my baby in there?â
You couldnât deny the feelings of pleasure were heightened to no end when he rubbed the heel of his palm into your tummy and continued to rut into you. That feeling of fullness, the delicate nudge against your most sensitive place, paired with the warmth of Buckyâs hand on your lower abdomen, was as close to euphoric as youâd ever felt before orgasm, and it wasnât hard to tell from the way your body responded. Bucky worked his touch even deeper and watched you writhe beneath him.
âMy sweet girl,â he cooed, rubbing that spot, âYouâd look so pretty all swole up down here, donât you think?â
Fucking hell, this guy was good. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to shake your head.
âSomeoneâŠtried to kill usâŠtwice in the last twenty four hours,â you managed between labored breaths. Trying not to whimper when the head of Buckyâs cock kissed your cervix and you felt him bottom out inside you.
Balls deep and enamored with the expression on your face, Bucky laid a kiss on your forehead and smiled.
âIâll take Schröderâs life with my own two hands if it means keeping youââ he paused to press his palm even firmer on your stomach, ââand our child safe, honey.â
You wanted to believe him. You sincerely hoped your husband could make good on his promiseâeven if it meant delivering an agonizing, bloody death to a man you barely knewâbut you sensed deep down that there were no guarantees in the world Bucky Barnes inhabited. From what little youâd seen in the last day and a half, it had become clear as ever that there were no certainties; no promise of tomorrow, much less a probability that things would pan out exactly as you planned. Add to that a living, breathing child between you two, and the prospects for a safe, secure, and peaceful future were small. Infinitesimally so, in the grand scheme of things.
âNo, Bucky,â you finally opened your eyes to find his tender gaze watching over you. Still moving his hips gently, still blanketing your body with his own, âThatâs entirely justâ just irresponsible. You know it would be.â
âMaking a child together?â Bucky seemed wounded saying the words.
And, in spite of the serious turn your conversation had taken, you could see and feel with the growing pace of your breaths that both of you were close. You wanted more than anything to repair that muted, injured look in his eyes, but then Bucky was blinking it away, to the best of his abilities, and lowering his head back down to yours to impart a soft barrage of kisses along your skin. He resumed before you could even think to speak again.
âOkay. No, youâre right. Itâs your choice, my love,â he murmured against your cheek, getting back into the more deliberate rhythm of his thrusts before. He stayed there holding his body and his lips as close to yours as possible, and when you felt tempted to say something again, you found the sound drowned by a cresting wave of pleasure.
Your legs tightened around Buckyâs sides, and your head fell back on the bed. You felt Buckyâs drop right beside you, turned just slightly to graze his lips against your ear.
âGonna cum for me, doll?â
You nodded.
âSo close, Bucky,â you breathed, a tremor passing over your thighs as they squeezed him even tighter.
You felt your husbandâs hand move from your belly to a place just below itâtaking care to bring the pad of his thumb to that wet, aching bundle of nervesâand started drawing circles. Your back arched from the bed, into him, and the coil of pleasure in your lower half swelled.
âGood girl,â Bucky growled, âGood fuckinâ girl, taking me so well.â
The praises and gentle circuits of his thumb continued as he fucked you harder into the bed and panted against your skin. Increasing the speed of his thrusts before catching your mouth in a sloppy kiss, body sinking into yours.
âGonna make a mess of this cock, huh? Show daddy just how much you love it?â
You whined in response, feeling your muscles start to ache from how hard your legs were wrapped around him. Bucky invaded your mouth with his tongue, kissing and licking and craving your taste as he fucked you stupidâand begged for your release.
âCum for daddy, honey, I know you got it. Let daddy feel it, baby, please.â
A couple more snaps of his hips and you gave him just that: a hot, cascading ripple of bliss spreading all throughout your body, sending your mind in spirals and every muscle under your command a tense, throbbing mess. You swallowed a scream and took a bite of Buckyâs shoulder instead, causing the man above you to grin and fuck you harder.
âThatâs my girl,â he mumbled with an audible hint of pride.
The smile only started to waver when his own release was coming close. Suddenly, his grip was moving to your hip and pinning you down to the bed, brows pinching in and breaths starting to hitch.
âHoneyâ honey,â he said, voice strained, âBaby, youâ you gotta let go of yourâ ah, fuck.â
Still riding out the highs of your orgasm, you hardly even noticed how tight you were holding him with your legs, and shortly, this raised issues for Bucky, who was trying like hell to heed your wishes and not cum inside you.
âBaby, let go, I gottaââ
He probably couldâve fought to shake you off a little harder, been a bit more adamant about his efforts, but you looked so comfortable and lithe and sweet beneath his frame, so blissed out and happy to be taking his strokes, Bucky almost had to pinch himself to rouse his lust-addled brain to action and remind himself that this was how babies are made, man, get the fuck off of her.
Bucky let out a long, strangled groan as the ropes of cum left his body before he could think, or move, fast enough.
He hastily pushed your legs away and pulled out, but not before painting your walls with a good portion of his load. His hand fell to his cock and started jerking the rest of it out over your stomach, body washing with pleasure.
Vaguely, thoughts of babies and ballgames and neat white picket fences crossed his mind, but those views were fleeting; he remembered what youâd told him and forced himself back to earth, dropping a quick, apologetic kiss to the side of your face.
âIâm sorry. Shouldâve pulled out quicker,â Bucky panted against your neck.
You stroked his bicep and shook your head.
âYouâre fine. I kinda had you down like a boa constrictor for a second,â you breathed and shared a weary laugh.
Before you knew it, Bucky was sliding off the bed and shuffling toward the bathroom in search of a towel. You prodded the warm, gooey mess on your belly with your finger and raised an eyebrow. Curious, and only slightly worried.
Bucky had been hitting it raw for a day nowâsurely one more half-load of his wouldnât get you pregnant, right?
Fortunately, you didnât have much longer to ponder that thought because a trill of a ringtone sounded from the nightstand.
A phone call? At 45,000 feet?
âJust the intercom,â Bucky called out, âProbably Steve about to start complaining that we fuck too loud.â
Huh. You stared at the trimline-looking telephone on the table and let it ring. Then the sound stopped.
âYou think they could hear us?â you asked.
Bucky had just wet a washcloth under the sink and was rifling through the cabinets for something else.
âHope so,â he said with a shrug, âYou know Iâd never miss a chance to let âem know I took a trip to poundtownââ
âPlease never say that again,â you groaned, closing your eyes in sudden fear of what Steve and Sam may or may not have just been made privy to outside of the room.
You were just about to speak up againâperhaps to tell your husband there would be an indefinite travel ban to poundtown if he didnât hurry the fuck up with that towelâwhen the intercomâs jarring peal started up once more.
Fuck this. Ignoring the sticky-sweet puddle of love still painted on your stomach, you sat up and crawled over to the phone and ripped it off the hook.
âBarnes residence,â you announced without ceremony. Then, imagining how smug Steve was probably looking on the other end of that line, you decided to be crass and add, âBucky Barnes is very busy laying pipe on his wife right now, but if you could leave your name and number, heâll be sure to call you back as soon as possible!â
You heard the caller burst out laughing, and you smiled to yourself. Pleased to have made an otherwise moody and brooding Steve Rogers crack at one of your jokes, you were just about to hang up when the caller cut in.
Bucky was returning with your towel in hand, lips curled in the faintest of smirks at hearing your crude declaration, when he stopped at the foot of the bed.
He saw the smile fall from your face, and his did, too.
From the other end of the line, a soft and familiar Southern drawl crawled out of the phoneâs receiver.
âSure thing, doll. Tell him itâs Joey Schröder calling.â
Taglist: @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut
(If I missed anyone or tagged improperly, please let me know! This is my first rodeo taglist)
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu#mob bucky barnes#marvel smut#marvel x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes
7K notes
·
View notes
Text
belonging to old man loganâŠÂ
cw: smut (p in v), oral sex (m receiving), cum play, daddy kink, age gap
not as in being a sex slave. youâre free to do whatever you want, of course⊠you just donât want to. so all you do is hang around the cozy villa all day (often topless), the one that he bought just for the two of you, away from the city stress, and wait for him to come back from work.
âdid you miss me, doll?â logan asks right after he shuts the front door, taking his suit jacket off. youâre throwing yourself at him already, popping the buttons on his dress shirt open. button by button, you start placing chaste kisses on his abs, making your way down to his pants as you sink down on your knees.
âeager today, are we?â logan looks down at you, smiling at the sight of his favorite little thing down on her knees, unzipping his pants with her teeth.Â
âmhm.â you mumble, now too busy with taking his cock out of his boxer briefs.
logan was sure that there was no better way to be greeted after a long and tiresome day. his cock was already at half-mast. just looking at you, so obedient and impatient, made him want to take you right then and there. but heâd let you have your fun, for now.
you spit on loganâs cock, taking your hand and smearing your saliva up and down his length. you start by tracing the vein on his cock with your tongue, looking up at him through your eyelashes. then you place kitten licks on the tip of his cock, where you know heâs most sensitive. logan grabs a handful of your hair and forces your mouth away.
âdonât. tease.â he hisses through his teeth. you apologetically place one last kiss on his girth and get to work, taking his entire length into your mouth. his hold on your hair remains, guiding you and increasing the speed as the warmthness of your mouth edges him towards his orgasm.Â
after a while, he stops you in your tracks with a tug of your makeshift ponytail. you whine, wondering why heâs suddenly pulling you away.Â
âitâs okay, doll. i know you wanna please daddy.â he speaks with a softer tone, pitying your pathetic expression. your eyes are glossy now and youâre pouting up at him. logan canât help but get even harder. he picks you up by the waist and throws you over his shoulder, kicking the bedroom door open and setting you down on the bed moments later. you immediately know what youâre supposed to do - so you take your t-shirt off in one swift motion, and wiggle your way out of your shorts and panties.
âcmon, ass up, baby. âm getting impatient.â logan says, now completely discarding his dress shirt on the floor and doing the same with his pants and boxer briefs. you follow his command, getting on all fours on the bed. logan grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the fat lovingly. his fingers go to tease at your folds, rubbing up and down to find you soaking wet already.Â
âmy girlâs always ready for me.â logan points out with a rub to your clit. your ears perk up at the praise and a small smile appears on your face as you wiggle your ass in the air, urging him to hurry up. he chuckles as he grabs his girth, giving it a few strokes before he eases his tip inside you, slowly sinking himself in your pussy. youâre always such a tight fit, like heâs fucking you for the first time, logan thinks to himself. with him getting older, itâs harder to keep up with your needs and impossibly high sex drive, but he tries to make it up to you on most nights, when heâs not too tired.
his thrusts start out slow, as they always do. he goes easy on you when he first enters you because heâs sure the sheer size of his cock is a tad bit painful for you. logan grabs a hold of your hips, picking up the pace as the sounds of his cock thrusting in you fill the room. his balls slap against your ass, your tits jiggling as logan pulls out and slams his cock in your pussy again and again. you moan and pant, back arching as your elbows soon give out from the vigor with which his hips roll against you. you fall face down on the pillows and your hand scrambles as you reach behind your back with a desperate whine. logan gets the hint and intertwines his fingers with yours as your velvety walls clench around him.Â
âiâm close.â you moan out, squeezing him harder, chasing that blissful moment of ecstasy. his thrusts donât falter as his cock hits your g-spot repeatedly, making you whine out in pleasure.Â
âi know, doll. i can feel you.â
with a final thrust, you feel yourself cumming around loganâs cock, your pussy pulsating. the feeling of you clenching around him makes his thrusts get sloppier as his own orgasm approaches.Â
âyouâre so good to me, baby.â logan says, grunting as he empties himself inside you, his warm cum filling your hole. the two of you stay like that for a moment, savoring the irreplaceable feeling of postcoital warmth. he pulls out after a while, his seed dripping out of your cunt. the sight is awfully erotic and you turn around at the feeling, only to see logan put his fingers inside you again. his digits, now covered in not only his cum, but yours, reach for your face. you donât have to hear him say it to know what he wants. you open your mouth, allowing him to put his fingers inside. your tongue swirls around loganâs fingers, and you suck teasingly as he finally takes them out of your mouth with a âpopâ, instead grabbing your face adoringly, rubbing soft circles on your cheekbone as a smile lights up your face.
âwe taste really good.â you speak, now turning around to fully face him, knees still on the bed, as his frame towers above you.Â
logan grabs your nape and lowers his head down to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongue entering your mouth and completely captivating you. itâs messy, itâs addicting, itâs everything, the feeling and taste of his cum and saliva filling your mouth.
âyouâre right, doll.â logan murmurs against your lips, breaking the kiss as a string of drool connects the two of you.Â
and in that moment, as he stares into your eyes, slowly caressing the back of your head, logan and you share a thought - âi donât mind spending the rest of my days like this.â
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett smut#wolverine x you#wolverine smut#old man logan
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
đđđđđ - đđđ đ. đđđđ đđđđđđ
summary: rob fucks you in soulties lol
warnings: unprotected sex, public sex (nobody sees) pet names, female reader, kind of cheating mentions? (not locked in with anyone.) p in v, oral (f recieving) sorry if itâs not that good âčïž
being in a couple rob had its ups and downs, he likes to explore but you liked him. unfortunately the exploring led to him getting by another girl. rob was genuinely upset, he respected you. He felt different about you way different.
The whole day you couldnât get it out of your head. You sat at the villa staring at liv and rob talk it away to you it didnât look natural. they looked awkward and you had ill feelings towards liv coming and stealing him from your grasp. You couldnât let her know you were salty, no..but you could get back at her.
Your legs moved quicker then your brain as you walked closer and closer to rob. âhey rob can I talk to you?â
âyeah sure.â rob got up from where he was sitting and began to follow you as you led him to soul-ties.
âso, I just want to talk to you about what happened last night you know.â you said as you laid down on the cushioned area. Rob quickly laid down next to you.
âme too.â he agreed with you.
âso, Iâm lowkey upset by what happened, I know itâs not your fault but I feel like we had a insanely deep connection rob.â you look at him.
âyeah no me too, I think what she did was uncalled for and I was exploring others but I made it clear you were my number one and wasnât open to the idea of being picked.â he frowns a bit.
âcan I make it up to you y/n?â he looks into your eyes.
you pondered how he could make it up to you, you werenât sure what could fill the void that you once called your couple in the villa. you had been publicly humiliated in front of thousands on tv.
âsure..â you hesitated but gave in. because who could resist those beautiful enticing eyes.
Rob wasted no time grabbing the back of your neck softly but strong enough to pull you to his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth every few pecks, the pecks became slower and deeper but rougher. Eventually both of your tongues meet and rob tugs on the waistband of your shorts.
he lays you on your back and slowly slips off your shorts and underwear tracing his fingers along your pussy. The warmth grows by the seconds and each small touch rob makes. âcan I y/n? words sweetie. please.â he groans.
âyes rob, yes please.â you nod desperate for his touch.
âgood girl.â he wastes no time sipping down to your wet pussy and pushing your knees to your chest to get a better angle when tasting your sweet spot. His tongue lapped your clit over and over again every other lap entering your hole before tongue fucking your hole while using his thumb to rub your clit.
He mumbles into your pussy as you feel as if your getting dragged to the edge with each lap and dip of his tongue, his thumb rubbing your clit continuously until you tense up feeling your orgasm approaching.
âthatâs it let go for me sweet girl.â rob keeps the attack consistent letting you ride out your high.
âmore..more rob please.â he smirks when you beg.
âbegging for me? since you wanna be good iâll give you more.â you hear him fumble with his belt buckle.
his pants drop leaving him with just underwear but those are quickly slipped off while he rubs his tip up and down your slit teasing you.
âno teasing rob.â you cry out.
âokay princess no teasing.â rob aligns his tip with your hole and begins to sink in bottoming out throwing his head back in pleasure.
âbest pussy ever.â his pace speeds up roughly.
moans escape from your lips, the pleasure so intense that you canât help but let mewls slip past your lips. his whispers and moans are incoherent too pussy drunk to form words. you guys were in a trance.
a white ring forms around the base of his cock, cream coating his length. âfuck iâm close sweet girl.â his pace begins to get sloppier and sloppier.
âme too rob fuck.â you clench around him as you feel ropes of cum hit your cervix. rob pulls out and pulls your pants up and puts your shirt on and fixes himself. he lays next to you moving strands of hair out of your face.
âif we recouple soon itâs you, your like a drug, and iâm way too addicted.â he presses a kiss against your lips while holding you
â- SORRY IF ITS BAD OR SPELLING MISTAKES ITS LATE NOT PROOFREAD
#love island the game#love island usa#love island uk#love island 2024#rob love island#robb rausch smut#love island smut#smut
721 notes
·
View notes
Text
â ïŒ SATIVA ! â takami keigo, todoroki toya
âčâË. a simple sesh with your two closest friends in the league of villainsâhawks & dabiâquickly turns into something else once you start smoking too.
word count â
4.4k
warnings â
18+ content â mdni, f! reader, smoking weed, mfm threesome, very subtle dabihawks, unprotected sex, oral [f&m giving/receiving], creampies, hawks has a crush on you, wing play, spitroast, squirting, hawks is a lil submissive
xoxo, juno â
created because of this ask! i had so much fun writing & i spent forever trying to do this idea justice and i seriously hope i did. first ever âlongâ fic so i pray this doesnât flop hahaha please give me some feedback and rb/comment if you liked it <33
the sun sinks low in the sky, peeking over the horizon and casting orange rays of light through the torn curtains hanging over the hallway windows. finally being off the clock and done with patrols is always rewarding in its own way, but this is different â youâve been invited to hang out in one of the more private rooms in the villa.
dabi and hawks had always proved to be an interesting duo: one a hero, the other a villain. as if their positions in society werenât enough to stop them from becoming friends of some kind, they shared very different interests, tastes, and quirks.
however, the only thing they could seem to agree on was you â the three of you were inseparable, spending time together often, despite having very opposite personalities.
âhawks?â your voice is hushed, awkward as you push open a dusty door, unsure of its location. âdabi? you guys are in here, right? you better not be fucking withïżœïżœâ
âoh relax.â
âweâre right here, dove,â hawksâ sugary sweet voice draws a loud gag from dabi, mustered from the very depths of his soul.
you huff, stepping in and slamming the door.
âit stinks in here, what the hell is that?â
âlock the door,â dabi vaguely gestures behind you, lifting one of his legs over the other as he leans against the bottom of the beat up couch. in his lap sits a copy of the hardcover hawks canât seem to stop reading, the meta liberation army book. his darkened fingers carefully sprinkle a smelly substance into a rolling paper, and his eyebrows furrow as he focuses.
hawks sees the confusion on your face. âdabiâs making magic over there.â
âyou owe me, hawks. damn fiend.â
âi am not a fiend!â the blonde snaps his head to the side, crossing his legs tightly. âyou suggested it and i agreed. iâll chip in for your efforts, though.â
dabi cackles, sealing his creation with a delicate swipe of his tongue against the paper. vermillion wings ruffle in shameless interest, gold eyes locked onto dabiâs hands. not wanting to be the only one standing, you take a seat on the old couch, both of them on either side on the floor below you.
with no encouragement necessary, dabi pushes what looks like a thick cigarette between his lips and lifts a finger to light it.
âwhat is that?â you ask curiously, gesturing towards his lips.
ââs a joint,â he mumbles in reply, lighting the end of it with a small blue flame.
âdonât disintegrate it now, dabi.â
âfuck off, bird brain. as if i canât control my quirk.â
dabi inhales deeply, taking a long drag on the joint before pulling it from his lips and passing it to the man on the other side of you. curiously, you watch as hawks takes a small inhale, then hands it back to dabi.
âpacing yourself this time? thatâs new for you.â dabi remarks, sharp teeth gleaming as he smiles. hawks scoffs, staying quiet although he looks away awkwardly.
âyou know what weed does?â dabi rolls the joint back and forth between his lips, looking up at you from his spot on the floor.
âi-iâm not sure, iâve never tried it before,â your voice falters and you clear your throat, fidgeting with your fingers. âwhat does it do?â
âitâll get you high,â hawks offers simply.
âit does way more than that,â dabi shoots him a glare and shakes his head. âitâs relaxing. itâll make you feel different, in a good way.â
he turns to the side and exhales smoke, then offers you the joint. âcome on, princess,â youâre watching the wisps of smoke dissipate in the air behind him before your attention snaps back to dabi. âi, for one, think youâll come to like it.â
âaw, donât pressure her, dabi.â hawks takes the joint from dabi with a mild glare, and shakes his head as he slips it between his lips. crimson wings flutter as he takes a deep, long hit and fills his lungs with smoke. dabi watches with a smirk, unable to hold in his laughter when his body trembles and he starts to cough, spewing smoke from his nose and mouth.
âyouâre only talking like that cause youâre not all that experienced either,â he scoffs, reaching to the side to grab a bottle of water, then tosses it to the other side of the couch.
tears from the intense coughing cascade down hawksâ flushed face as he sucks down the water, clearly embarrassed. truthfully, heâd been trying to show off a little, as well as unwind from a long day.
you take the joint from hawks before he drops it onto the carpet, then you hand it back to dabi, who shrugs. âif you really donât want to, thatâs fine, doll.â
youâre nervous, heart racing at the prospect of smoking with them. drinking liquor was always rare for you, and even when you did, you didnât get anything more than tipsy. oftentimes youâd be wrangling hawks out of the sky and reminding him that smashing into a building while flying drunk would be a very bad look for him as a hero. he never seemed to care, though, and dabi didnât either; heâd be equally drunk but less stupid, standing behind you and just laughing.
what if you took too much? what would you say? more importantly, what would you do?
dabiâs husky voice snaps you out of your thoughts. he offers you a smile full of faux sympathy, eyes pink and just a little shiny from the high.
âyouâre just missing out.â
missing out? something about his words makes you squirm, thighs clenching. if you were to say no and leave, youâd miss seeing these two high. drunk was one thing, but high was another; youâd heard a few stories, here and there, about what weed could do. in most cases, people tend to stay the same as they usually are, although they may become a little more giggly. occasionally, weed could cause serious arousal. not to mention the date for the paranormal liberation war: itâs coming up, and hawksâ fate has been weighing heavily on your mind.
the definition of magnetic, you werenât the first to gravitate to him; but you definitely ended up being one of the only people he actually spent the most time with. well, and dabi. closer than most friends, neither of you could even think about pulling away: what if this was one of the last times you could spend time together?
part of you feels like youâll regret this, but you bite the bullet anyway, stammering, âuh, okay. yeah, iâll try it.â
proudly, dabi scoots closer and hands you the joint. the smell is strong, and your nose crinkles as you lift it to your lips.
âbe careful, you have to inhale a certain wayââhawks starts to say, seemingly recovered from his coughing fit, but dabi rolls his eyes at the heroâs concern. he fake gags once again, then sets his rough palm on your knee, which doesnât go unnoticed by the hero.
âiâll show you how, doll. i taught this dumbass but clearly he does indeed have a bird brain.â
âfuck off,â hawks grunts, leaning over to hit him lightly with a wing before slouching back to watch, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.
âbring it to your lipsâright, just like that. so, youâll need to inhale slowly because the smoke can be a bit overwhelming at first..â
you follow dabiâs instructions, closing your eyes as you take the smoke into your mouth, letting it pass through your windpipe and coil in your lungs for a moment.
âwait a second, then slowly blow it out through your mouth.â
your eyes open, and you look at the tendrils dissipating in front of you. beside you, hawks offers the half full bottle of water.
âgood girl,â dabi chuckles, leaning his head back against the edge of the couch. dark, spiky hair sticks out in all directions, and hooded turquoise eyes observe you thoughtfully. âyouâll want to repeat that a few more times, alright? make sure you stop when youâre feeling it, it kicks in pretty quickly. donât wanna overdo it, youâll end up puking. iâm sure hawks can tell you all about that, huh?â
âdabi, seriously!â the vomiter in question whines, feathers puffing out as his blush darkens. âshe doesnât need to know about all that shit.â
it starts as a giggle, slips from your lips before you can stop it. then itâs a few, all at once. before you know it, youâre curling up and laughing so hard tears run down your face. from the corner of your eye, you notice hawksâ bewildered stare, which only makes you laugh harder.
âsheâs definitely high,â dabi clicks his tongue, finding it difficult not to join in with you. hawks continues to stare, shifting in his spot on the floor as he takes in your laughter and smiling face.
maybe itâs the haze thatâs taken over your brain, or the fog thatâs settled in every corner of your body, but you find yourself slowly coming down from all the laughter, sliding down to the floor between them, joint between your fingers.
âyou alright?â dabi pulls the joint from your grasp, sticks it into a nearby ashtray.
âmy throatâs a little dry,â you rasp, overwhelmed by all the new sensations.
again, hawks hands you the water bottle, but this time he presses it into your hand. rather abruptly, you twist to the side and lean in, kissing dabi.
he makes absolutely no effort to stop you, parting his lips and letting your impatient tongue into his mouth while his rough hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt, palms dragging against your skin and only moving higher.
by the time youâre pulling away to breathe, heâs panting, eyes cast downwards at the carpet; just before his eyes meet yours, he remembers that the two of you arenât alone.
heavy wings rustle behind you, the noise likely unintentional. when you turn back, hawks is watching, still cross-legged but now shamelessly pitching a tent in his pants.
âhawks,â you pant, body burning hot. eagerly, you beckon him over; thereâs no hesitation crossing over his face when he slides towards you, squishing you between himself and dabi.
dabi watches quietly as you pull the hero into a kiss by the chin, insistent and everything but gentle. youâve got him breathless against your lips, his wheezes pitched and clearly overwhelmed.
âalright, princess,â dabi scoffs, tugging you off the hero by your shirt and into his lap. âthatâs not fair.â
he feels like heâs melting a little when your face falls, your expression becoming pathetic and sad in a way thatâs utterly filthy.
âbut, i-i want both of you.â
the two men look towards each other, sharing an unreadable look. hawks swallows nervously, âat the same time?â
âsame hole?â dabi jokes, eyebrows shooting up when you nod to both of their questions. âwell, shit. you heard her, bird brain.â
âon the couch,â hawks murmurs, patting a worn out cushion. on trembling legs, you stand and take a seat.
ânuh uh, on your knees,â dabi grunts, pushing you into position and settling behind your clothed ass.
meanwhile, hawks sits in front of you and pulls his clothes off, stripping down to his boxers. the outline of his thick cock is obvious, as is the shift of his hips as he awaits your touch.
saliva pools inside your mouth at the thought of having his cock down your throat, stretching it out and filling it up.
âoff,â one simple word and his whole lower half is already fully naked.
âsuck him off,â dabiâs arms wrap around your waist as he unbuttons your shorts and yanks them down to your knees. âand donât you dare stop, or i will too.â
hawks guides his cock into your mouth, rising to his knees and cupping the back of your head. his face crumbles in pleasure, and heâs only pushing past your lips. âoh my godâ fuck, your mouthâs perfect.â
his wings spread out behind him, crimson feathers quivering out of his control. âshow off,â dabi mutters, pulling your panties down next. he watches your cunt closely, glossy strings of wetness stretching as your panties slide down your thighs.
âso fucking pretty, christ.â your pussy clenches from his words, his hot breath fanning over you and only adding to your anticipation. hawks stares, gold eyes honing in on rough hands and the way they grasp your plush skin.
âdeeper,â hawks murmurs, head falling back as he pushes your head down further.
at the same time, dabi experimentally licks a long stripe down your pussy, the tip of his tongue dipping between your folds. the light stimulation combined with the sight and sound of hawksâ pleasure has your hips thrashing, bucking backwards for more.
âsheâs real needy, huh?â dabi spits onto your cunt, a glob trailing down and dripping a little from your clit.
âlooks like it,â hawks chuckles, lips moving into a pleased smile at the needy sounds you canât stop making on his cock.
the air in the room is hot, thick with the scent of smoked weed and sex, heavy with shameless arousal. your head is cloudy, only full of thoughts of hawks and dabi. itâs like being shocked with electricity when your face is pressed into thick thighs, hawksâ cock pushing deep and causing you to choke. he grunts and starts to fuck your mouth, his thrusts carelessly deep. as if that wasnât enough, dabiâs fingers push inside you and he attaches his lips to your clit.
âmmm,â he groans deeply, roughly tugging you backwards and into his face for more.
âdoes she taste good?â hawks huffs, his chest heaving. against your tongue, his cock throbs.
dabi smacks his lips behind you, then gifts your ass with a harsh slap. the sudden sting makes you moan, and he smirks.
âoh yeah. sheâs so fuckinâ sweet, hawks.â
âtell me about it,â the hero gulps, his lower lip wobbling as he only grows closer to the bliss heâs been dreaming about.
âwell, sheâs real tight inside. sucked my fingers right in, didnât you, princess?â to prove his point, dabi nudges two other fingers against your dripping entrance and you clench, greedy pussy begging to be stuffed full.
hawks nods, waiting for more.
âoh my god, i couldnât even describe the taste,â dabi curls his fingers inside you, rubs your clit in methodic circles with the pad of his thumb. ââs sweet, for sure. definitely a little sour.â
turquoise meets gold, and dabi watches hawksâ eyes roll back, wings spreading out and straining behind him, like an angel.
âyouâll have to taste it yourself, bird brain. iâm sure sheâs more than willing.â
thatâs all it takes to push the both of you over the edge â with a choked moan, hawks spills into your mouth, hips stuttering but still jerking forward sporadically. dabi pays close attention to the way you shake, pushing towards him for more but practically running away the second he touches your swollen clit.
dabi blames the heat in his cheeks on the weed.
âo-oh,â hawks fights back a whimper as he pulls his cock from your mouth, too sensitive to even speak.
âitâs so hot in here,â you whine, sitting up to pull your shirt and bra off. the bounce of your tits and perkiness of your nipples has dabi groaning, painfully hard.
âget the hell back on your knees.â
hawks sits and observes dabi, eyes focused on the way his fingertips run down your back and pause at your asscheeks, gripping the skin in an effort to ground himself.
he races to take his pants off, tossing them and his boxers to the floor in a hurry. heâs shaking when he lines his cock up with your entrance and shoves in, falling against your back with a loud hiss.
âholy shit,â he gasps, startled when he feels like cumming already. in a flash, hawks is in front of you again, stroking his fingers over the nape of your neck and shushing your pathetic whining.
hawks would be lying if he said he wouldnât fuck you harder and make you sob.
âyou can take it,â dabi grunts, clearing his throat to keep his voice from faltering. âitâs not youâll be getting any breaks, doll.â
âthatâs mean,â hawks says with a pout, fully hard and waiting for attention.
âshut it, bird brain. fuck her mouth again, why donât you?â
âyou heard him,â hawks shrugs, seemingly apologetic although he definitely isnât. âopen up, dove.â
his wings rustle and he groans as he pushes his cock into your mouth once again. dabiâs pace doesnât falter, and he tugs you up a little to fuck his cock deeper.
âdabi!â you sob, his name muffled but still audible to both men, âright there, pleasepleasepleaseââ
heavy balls smack into your clit with each thrust that you can feel in your lungs. even as dabi pulls you impossibly closer, it still isnât enough to be fully satiating â what if you all shared each other like this on the regular?
âg-gonna cum soon,â you whimper, a few tears rolling down your face and forcefully falling from your jaw with every hard shove of hawksâ cock into your mouth.
electricity races through your entire body, shooting through your veins in stinging shocks as the pressure in your pelvis increases. then you feel rough skin and hot breath at the nape of your neck, along with a strong hand wrapping around your throat.
âwhatâs that, princess? youâre gonna cum?â
âyes, y-yes, âm gonnaââ
âgreedy, arenât you? go ahead and wait for us.â
âi-i canât,â you moan, eyes rolling back when dabiâs fingers dig into the sides of your neck, âiâm so fucking close, dabi, pleaseââ
he pulls back, but before he returns to fucking you as he did before, he shoves your head down hard, only letting go once he hears you choke.
the room fills with needy groans and the hushed whimpers you keep letting out as you struggle to do as heâd asked. itâs as though hawks is facing the same predicament, a nervous hand tangled deep in blonde strands and tugging to keep himself grounded.
after what feels like an eternity, dabi finally keels over with a drawn out groan. âshit, iâm gonna cum,â the pace of his hips starts to falter and youâre less than a moment away from cumming yourself. âiâm gonna fuckingââ
he cuts himself off by biting into your shoulder hard, just before you feel him gushing inside you, filling you to the brim. hawks pulls out of your mouth to take in the scene, and commit every detail to memory.
you fall over the edge with a mewl, gummy walls squeezing dabiâs cock and absolutely draining him. all you can do is moan beneath him, trembling from the strength of your second orgasm of the night.
itâs frustrating that heâs throbbing against your cervix and then pulling out immediately after, beckoning for hawks to come over. entirely spent, you collapse onto your belly, heart racing and breath coming in heavy puffs.
âgod,â hawks all but groans at the sight of the mess between your legs â cum pouring from your cunt and smeared around your clit thanks to dabi. then, almost as though heâs hungry, âlooks so fucking good.â
âhey now, turn over.â dabi offers you the half full bottle of water from earlier and chuckles at how quickly you open it and begin to chug. itâs gone in seconds, and the bottle falls to the ground with a crinkling sound. you sigh, exhausted and still high as hell â for a moment, you close your eyes.
âround three,â is all you hear before your legs are being spread open. your hole flutters at the prospect of some more, and youâre startled that youâre even considering it.
âi just came twice, hawks,â you cry, lower lip wobbling. a third round will most certainly break you.
with the pad of his thumb, dabi sweeps away a stray tear on your face. âlet him fuck you once, yeah? god knows how damn long heâs been wanting to.â
âdabi,â the blonde whines, flushing pink. âstop it.â
with a sigh, he lifts his arms and pulls his shirt off for this final round, exposing the rest of his body. his nipples are a light pink, and heâs got a defined chest and abs with lines that look sharp enough to cut stone. he wiggles his eyebrows, eyes creasing at the corners once he notices you checking him out.
âlike what you see?â
behind you, dabi rolls his eyes, but you spread your legs wider with a playful expression. âabsolutely.â
thoughts of nothing besides fucking you full of his cum and making you his flare in his mind as he gathers dabiâs cum on the tip of his cock and pushes it inside you.
âo-oh,â hawks gulps down a whimper once he pushes inside, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a bruising kiss. as he pulls back, lips dragging against your cheek, you swear you hear him say something like feels better than i couldâve ever imagined.
âwant me to mess around with your tits or use your mouth?â dabi rasps, cupping your chin and tilting your head to make you look up at him.
âdo what youâd like to me,â your back arches off the couch after an experimentally deep thrust from the hero, your tits bouncing nicely from the movement. he takes one into his hands, squeezing the soft flesh but mostly focusing on the pebbled nipples.
with a tinkling sound, hawksâ gold chain bounces wildly at his neck. noticing your distraction, dabi slips his fingers beneath your chin and turns your head to face him.
âhowâs it feel to be fucked like a slut?â he questions, pinching your nipple harshly; you moan loudly, tilting your head to the side, tongue lolling out of your mouth. dabi thinks the twisted expression of bliss on your face is so fucking hot.
âf-feels so fucking goodââ you cut yourself off with a needy, pitched moan, bucking towards hawks and wrapping your legs around his waist. âfill me up, please, i need it.â
the hero chews on his lower lip, closing his eyes and choosing to lose himself in this perfect moment. behind his eyes, he feels the hot prickle of tears; is he really about to cry right now? out of bliss and in front of dabi? but the thought is whisked away the second he focuses on the sound of his balls smacking into your swollen clit.
itâs a mess between your spread legs, cum and spit and slick smeared across your skin and dripping onto the couch.
âfuck, youâve got no idea how long iâve been waiting for this,â he grits his teeth, wings spreading out and beating the air hard, sending icy wind straight into your face and dabiâs. âb-been waiting to make you fall apart on my cock.â
ânot to interrupt, but youâre blowing the mood out like a candle,â dabi bites, rising from his spot on the couch and stepping around crimson wings.
âdonât fucking startâ dabi,â he gasps when he feels hot hands pulling his wings back into their usual resting position at his back. they tremble in his grip, stray feathers falling to the floor.
âsensitive there?â he roughly prods a finger between the feathers.
hawks ignores him although the answer is definitely yes, bending forward to wrap his arms around you and pull you as close as he can. the gold chain bumps against your sternum, and hawks buries his face in your shoulder with an embarrassing moan.
âi-iâm so closeâ dabi, rub her clit for me,â it takes a lot of strength not to stutter when his brainâs melting like this.
with a grunt of acknowledgement, dabiâs hand slips between your sweaty bodies, fingers pushing through your pubic hair as he searches for your clit.
âright here, doll?â he pinches the swollen bud and rolls it between two fingers.
âfuck yes,â you moan, hips jolting towards him.
heâs got a hand wrist deep in feathers, scratching lightly at the skin beneath, and the other sandwiched between you and hawks as he rubs your clit furiously.
âjust like that,â you whimper, eyes meeting dabiâs, whose pupils are blown. against your neck, hawks chants your name like a prayer, lips dragging against your cheek when he pulls away for a moment.
âiâm gonnaââ he groans loudly, eyes rolling back and hips stuttering against your own, âtake it, take it all, fuck..â his voice nearly cracks as he finally lets go, pushing deep and shooting ropes of cum from his swollen cock.
hawks shudders, wings fanning out and pushing against dabi, who groans as he takes in the whole scene.
âcum hard for me, doll,â dabi urges, his sticky fingers maintaining the rough pace heâs had this whole time; a unique tightness swells in your pelvis, begging to be released. despite having been fucked dumb, you manage to register that something big is about to happen.
âdabi, d-dabi,â you sob, legs trembling and heels pushing hawks closer. ââs coming, âs coming..â
dabiâs hand slips into blonde hair, and he yanks hard, pulling hawksâ head up so he can watch you fall apart.
it happens fast; you clench down on hawksâ cock, squeezing out a moan from deep within his chest. liquid sprays from your spasming cunt, soaking hawksâ pelvis and dabiâs fingers.
ââs too much,â you cry out, a tear racing down your cheek when you feel dabiâs fingers dragging against your overly sensitive clit again.
âwhy donât we see how fucking sloppy she is?â he groans, watching closely as hawks pulls out.
you can only whimper when cum gushes from your swollen cunt and someoneâs fingers push it back in. you watch as the two men rise to their feet, still on your back and panting.
ât-this was perfect,â hawks tries to catch his breath, choking when his back is slapped. âminus you ripping my hair out and slapping me just now, damn it.â
âall for good reason,â dabi snickers, helping you to sit up. âyou alright? that was a lot, heh.â
âi need to take a shower so bad.â
âletâs just relax before anyone leaves,â hawks says with a sigh, plopping down beside you.
âdonât tell me you get all soft after sex,â dabi stretches and pops his neck before he sits down on the other side of you.
âbetter than being hard,â he mutters in reply, gesturing to dabiâs boner.
the comment only makes him spread his legs and wrap an unbothered arm around you, knuckles brushing against hawksâ face.
âgotta do this again sometime,â you say, eyelids feeling heavy. âjust like earlier, both of you at the same time.â
âsame hole?â they both ask at once, more serious than theyâd been before.
you wink at them, not so tired anymore.
âmost definitely.â
#kurooh#pls donât flop#mha smut#bnha smut#bnha x reader#mha x reader#hawks x reader#hawks smut#hawks x you#hawks x dabi#dabi smut#dabi x reader#dabi x you
891 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only Other
chapter one of three.
Goth soldier! König x fem, Roman! reader
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of gore, groping, dubcon sword/knifeplay. additional warnings will be added to the next two chapters.
notes: for @writersdrugâs request. ^^
wc: 11k.
The barbarians are here.
The dream of river water lapping over your knees and songbirds in swaying trees fades out into a hazy fog as you begin to rise, dropping your legs from the mattress to spur yourself to move across the small room as quietly as your feet can carry you.
Heavy footfalls and staggering hoof beats from their horses weighed down by heavy sacks of supplies is what has pulled you from sleep.
The flames of their torches crackle, accompanied by the shrieks of clanging, well-polished metals singing out as if in the throes of war becomes a dull song; weapons, wicked and crudely crafted unlike the spears of the soldiers donned in red you were so accustomed to by now.
You had heard the whispers on the wind of the untamed beasts from Germania filtering in, settling down here; their arms and their blood for just a sliver of land to claim, soil to birth farmland, a semblance of peace from within the walls of the great empire.
Never, in these small words from gossiping tongues, did you suspect that these rugged men would be taking to camp so very close to your city. Not only that⊠theyâve been accepted into the walls, the door flung open for them with their gnashing teeth and thick, ugly weapons. These men of myth were usually set further out into the countryside, far from view of polite people to sow seed in soft fields, build the little shacks that seemed far too fragile for their rugged forms that could never compare to the villas built here.
Peering over the sill of the open window, stretching your upper half out into crisp night air to catch a glimpse of torches sailing along the breeze, flames just as ever-shifting as their darkened silhouettes, your breath seems to halt entirely. They look the trueness of harbingers like this: each somehow more imposing than the one they follow behind. You count only two horses split between the eight men of this small band.
Could any of them even speak in your tongue?
What stories could they tell?
Had any of them ventured as far as the sea or had they only bathed in waves of warm blood?
With eyes wide, you even dare to perch there to watch on, never bothering to conceal your underclothes with the faith that the darkness would hide away anything more than a illusory view of your shape.
Through the faint glow of the yellow-red flickering flames, your gaze drifts to something large, hulking and brutish, darker still against the backdrop of a sable horizon.
The shadow walks in line with the others, their proud and raucous foreign voices feathering through the otherwise quieted air⊠only he does not speak, does not make a single utterance of mirth or glee. He stares only forward as his feet tread on just paces behind the rest of the group.
Nine, then.
Like the tales youâve heard of the Goths, youâve also listened in on the children spinning wild stories of monsters, the legends of heroes of old slaying cruel beasts told by their elders. You had always believed them, even without the evidence currently striding through the sleeping streets, dark like a crypt, like the underworld itself. A true titan.
Just as your eyes track the brooding, silent form, he abruptly turns his head in your direction.
The glow of a nearby torch paints the shrouded face in the color of a dying sun, casts a glint on the thick seax strapped to his hip.
In that moment, it isnât wonderment curling through your blood, but surprise, maybe even a tinge of fear.
Your heart hammers as you pull yourself from the window to whisper hurried, hushed prayers to Juno, protectress of women, as you reject your curious nature and climb back into your bed. Youâll bring your offerings to her altar just as any devout: incense and a sweet pastry so long as she keeps you safe, chaste.
Buried beneath cushions stuffed with straw and thin fabric sheets to tuck yourself away, you wish only to return to dreaming of the riverâs silt beneath your feet and colorful birds parading past in the open air that smells only of violets and honey.
Instead, you dream of fire.
You dream of the city bathed in gold, molten and angry as the walls come down around you.
You watch as your neighbors, friends, all begin to writhe and shriek as their skin begins to blister, boil beneath until it melts layer by precious layer to puddle like oil where feet once stood until the mighty, wraithful scorch takes even that away too. What once was human becomes smoke: women, men, children, it made no difference. It all becomes a mighty roaring flame as the structures wail and crumble around you.
Yet, you remain untouched.
Dawn breaks with the puppets sewn in shadow all but entirely forgotten, washed away in the fearsome tides of your own dreaming.
You startle and bolt upright as you wipe cold sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.
Youâre no oracle: itâs just a dream⊠Vulcan would never turn his fiery gaze to your people after youâve all honored him so, the offerings paid at his altar had been plentiful this past year with the steady expansion of the empire and the need for well-smithed weapons.
There were no volcanoes here to sweep away your life with magma and sulfur⊠only the lemures that haunted old shacks with their wailing had paid a visit to you last night. You let them in with your fears, and you would ward them away next with your courage.
The sunâs warmth creeps its way in, sweeps up from your blanketed legs until it curls and caresses at your cheek. From its positioning, proud and impossibly high in the sky itâs almost as though Sol himself were staring down at you, radiant yet scolding.
Youâve overslept.
Hurriedly, you ready yourself for the day, cinching your waist, clasping the shoulder of the stola, and dutifully washing your face with still water held in a clay pot. There was little else to do than bide your time with tedium: the animals loitering about needed tending to, a neglected sewing project lay strewn across the floor that had long-awaited its completion, and as the questions began to stir in your mind again⊠perhaps, gods willing, you would safely be gifted the opportunity to peek at the barbarian camp. To see that peculiar titan that they kept tethered at their sides.
It was dangerous and unheard of for a maiden, of course, but with little else to do than work and practice stitching threads for a betrothed you held no true affection for, this was a significant reprieve from the humdrum of what was scrawled out into the stars.
You werenât given the luxury of further studies and communing with the aristocrats at their hearty banquets, sipping wine and prattling onwards about politics and how to further Rome as a whole. A part of you preferred this simple life of taking to the street, to peruse the market with what little money you held clutched in your palm, to pet the horses and watch as bulls sparred out in the fields beyond. Returning home to an empty house was a comfort, too.
As always, the market is a lively place, full to bursting with people exchanging anything under the sun, either beneath painted wooden stalls or from the first floor of their very homes, all with very little regard for you.
The city was simply too full to take in every name and face, and only their chatter seemed to intrigue you anyhow. You didnât need a scroll or a song about each individual, your people were easy enough to read: war, pride, and duty all embedded into their very blood. The only ones that drew your attention were the poets and bards, entertainers who spun their stories of lives vastly different from your own⊠but there were none awaiting coin on the streets today.
A man passes with his wife at his side, loudly bolstering onward about his progress on some expedition.
Women with flowers woven into the braids of their hair laugh softly behind their palms as they exchange their secrets in singsong whispers.
The children play and pocket with eager palms when salesmen are unaware, likely to be caught later on and have their hands whipped raw.
Thereâs no talk of the Goths.
With these foreign men, most of your people seemed unbothered, taking solace in the knowledge that the empireâs cavalry would ride to strike down any opposition. A tentative, arrogant sort of comfort that you knew very well not to trust entirely. Most were simply not as educated on the potential of what could be, hadnât snuck around on quiet feet to listen in on the men discussing failed treaties and negotiations.
The Goths could find their own food, their own women and shelters after fighting for the empire for a time: likely what they were here to do⊠give up their lives in exchange for a sliver of a Roman dream. A band as small as the one you witnessed could never quite hope to topple an empire, anyhow.
That sense of safety brought forth disinterest and smug little grins with little else to say, whereas your mind only took to further conjuring curiosity.
The more you wander the more you question whether you saw them at all, or if they were mere specters, already slain and silenced on some field far off from here, long dead and forgotten by all but the sleep-addled mind of a maiden.
Youâve never felt so disheartened. Though the city remained constantly bustling and full of intrigue when you knew where to look, these days the ease of it all only seemed to further the boredom. If nothing were to come, it would be no surprise to find that Juno would serve her purpose, looking after all with her blessings. You almost regret calling for her safety last night.
If the barbarians were indeed real, had some plot to overthrow an empire with their small numbers, perhaps only a vulture would be pleased with your thoughts now: teetering on the cusp of anticipation and wonder. You would never think yourself treasonous, but to learn, to see more⊠Your appetite for something further than a life spent sewing and child-rearing after marrying a man that made your skin prickle with distaste in the coming winter was rational.
Maybe not to most, but to you.
The fruit stall pulls you from thought with its sappy, honey-sweet scent and brilliant colors littered in crates: reds, greens, even some soft and blue⊠You only then notice youâve been standing entirely still here, lost in thought, as if expecting a bolt of lightning to split the world in two.
Two apricots were purchased, one for you and the other for the gray mare in the stable you had grown fond of. You give the merchant a smile and a few bronze coins and carry on your way, nibbling at one of the fruits on your walk.
There were usually servants tending to the horses just beyond the city's paved streets, but it seemed today they were busy with other affairs: Quinquatria would be upon the city soon, and there was much to prepare for such an important festival. The place was empty all apart from yourself and the horses, some off in the fields to gallop to their heartâs content, while others like your mare, secured by wooden gates and paddocks.
You feed her, cooing gently as she takes the pitted fruit from your hand and between her blunt teeth; then, allows you to lead her into the grass with your honeyed words and languid steps.
One day, you hoped to have the opportunity to ride her, perhaps far away to touch the waters of the ocean, to see the foreign trees in some great adventure that would leave you more fulfilled. Ideally, without being weighed down heavy with child.
Your hand strokes at her nose before she begins to tense, eyes wandering from your form to something just beyond, far off and nestled in tall, fluttering grass and small bushes. You track her gaze for a moment, finally turning to look over your shoulder.
The wind has the tops of the trees swaying along the hills, grass pushed down to kiss the earth with each flutter of air. It all smells and feels so gentle, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the soil and salt of the earth itself. Ceres would have found herself prideful at the sight; everything rich and lush with the spring⊠Harvests would be bountiful this year, and everyone would be well-fed and contented. Itâs no surprise that after pilfering through old calendars and running his tests upon the soil, Gaius had declared that this was the year he would take you to be his wife.
Past the expanse of soft blossoms and a cavalcade of greenery, all sweeping and rolling, a beauty that would stifle anyone should they think to look hard enough⊠but amidst all of this sits a man that you recognize immediately. Though he remains utterly faceless, his stature is somehow enough to make a gladiator blush and turn tail in shame.
There, just where the hill dips down and gives way to the soft rush of the stream, sits your warrior. His head is lowered as he crouches by the water, hands tucked to his front as he busies himself with something in his lap. The bare expanse of his back presented to you is unfathomable even from such a distance.
The men from Germania were said to be huge, dwarfing those that you were accustomed to by lengths, tall and thick like the weapons that they carry. They were said to be handsome, too⊠and like some hazy dream you were already certain that he was, somehow, beneath the pelt tied round his waist to keep him warmed at night, the sable shroud hanging over his head as he works away at sharpening the blade laying over his lap.
Your legs feel weak like a freshly birthed lambâs as you watch him; the muscles of his bare arms bulging and quivering, his nude back tensing with effort. The soft rays of the sun beaming down only seem to paint him golden, untouchable except by higherborn women and men who could pay well to have him dirty his blade or his cock. Radiant, cruel, maybe even a bastard son of Mars himself, because what better a place for a man so vast and laden with scar tissue to be than in the midst of some great war.
Someone like this, you know with a certainty, would have no time for fickle maidens with their heads filled with the fluff of fantasies, and in a way that only seems to solidify a plume of possessiveness stirred up within your head.
You wonder even, if he calls to Vulcan as he pauses to hold his blade up to the sun to marvel at his work, the sharpened silver glinting in the light. The weapon casts its rays to only further illuminate the paleness of his flesh, coupled with the gleam of the flowing water ebbing past it only serves to make him look the very picture of those old stories and myths. The older women in the city would have tapestries embroidered of this scene, no doubt, if they could see through your eyes now.
Your horse trots off, satisfied that there is no true threat here, and you feel yourself begin to creep forward.
The gods and goddesses must play their tricks, because you are no fool. The pull only feels undeniable, something that you could not fight with a stern will alone. You pacify your impromptu decision with the thought that you could turn away at any point in the meters it would take to reach him. Surely, if he turned to face you before then that same fear from the night before would come to surface and you would sprint, startled and wary.
Perhaps he would even give chaseâŠ
Thereâs no excitement to be held on him, either acutely unaware or ignoring your presence entirely as you draw ever-closer. The grass softens your footsteps, the breeze blanketing any sound from each shift of your legs beneath the linen stola. Youâre near silent in your approach, only halting where the hill crests over the bank several paces away from where he remains seated.
Only then does he turn to look your way.
Thereâs no greeting, no display of friendliness. His body language remains closed off, distant, like that of a wolf in cautious preparation; deciding whether or not it would be necessary to bare his teeth, to snap and growl until your flesh rends beneath him.
So itâs left up to you and to Juno who remains harbored in your heart. The goddess would protect you most assuredly, youâve left her offerings for as long as you could remember, prayed at her altars and devoted yourself entirelyâ perhaps not in the same way of the temple maidens, but certainly more so than most.
You take a breath, watching him with kind eyes and an air of unease about you that only seems sweet by comparison to the very danger that his presence proposes. He only returns your stare with something colder, detached and unamused beneath that ugly veil he wears: two holes for the eyes, dyed beneath with the red rimming yellow like the tissue a butcher may find in a plump calf.
âCan you understand me?â
Thereâs a long, tense silence that follows your frail question. The titan stares, looks you over from the crown of your head, briefly pauses midway- at your hips- then further. Itâs both heated and cold, coaxing yet analytical.
Finally, the barbarian gives a curt nod in response, seeming no less frigid and closed off even as your voice feathers over the breeze. But he understands, can decipher your language, thatâs a start.
âYou are⊠one of the barbarians, yes?â Is that even what they preferred to be called? The word certainly sounded prettier on your tongue than the brutish pronunciation of âGothsâ. There would certainly be some price to be paid if your blood was spilled over a mere insultâŠ
Graciously, he only seems to overlook it as he sheaths his blade and rises to his full height, tall like the mountains you had only heard stories of, where gods and goddesses sit in council not meant for mortal ears.
Freed of any covering upon his upper body, you find yourself reluctantly mesmerized by the trail of light hair that runs from chest to abdomen and down further⊠until a little tuft peeks from the hem of the pelt tied around his narrow hips. The layer of fat over his midsection paves a way upward to reveal the muscles of his chest, wider and more prominent somehow than most breasts youâve seen.
Unruly thoughts clutter that would have others questioning your status and devotion to your Gaius if they could hear them. It couldnât be helped, you reason; you had never seen a man quite so vast, so meant for battle and breeding.
âThat is what your people call me,â he huffs, bull preparing to charge. His words come out with a thick accent, northern. The trees and mountains would sound similar if they could speak at all.
He drinks you in with his eyes, fingers twitching at his sides as though itching to touch your most sensitive parts. Though he doesnât move yet, you get the sense that all it would take is one false move, a skitter in your step that leaves you tumbling to the earth, and he would be upon you like the downpours of spring. You even wonder if he would roar like the thunder delivered from Jupiterâs weighty palms if he were to mount you.
Of course, what he sees before him is not a maiden of Rome. His people didnât care for purity, for your religions and ideals: youâre a fertile little doe, wandering straight to a buck in his prime.
You swallow hard, a little bob from your fragile throat, to force those treasonous thoughts from your mind. Even talking to this man was a risk to your reputation⊠Your poor betrothed, nearing thrice your age and horribly delicate by comparison to this beast, would be up in arms if he were to find you here. More concerning, you couldnât find it within yourself to care.
âWhat do you call yourself, then?â Your voice comes almost breathless, thighs pressed together beneath your stola as your own body sends its signs and omens to tell you that youâre precariously close to the underworld just by gracing him with your presence. Perhaps it would be that dark, too, if this giant decided to push you to the soil, hover over you as he plucked you apart like petals from a flower.
His eyes track that subtle shift of your legs, crinkling at the outer corners when they roam back upward to your face. The beast grins beneath his hood, youâre certain of it, and those eyes of pale blue seem to glitter like the sun's rays on the stream to your side. He shifts, crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his hips just slightly forward, some strange display undoubtedly meant to tempt and charm you.
You donât budge from your perch, despite your bodyâs persistent singing for him. Enticing scents and views of flesh could do that⊠this man wasnât special, you were just curious. Thatâs all that it was.
âKönig.â He answers things plainly in that lilted voice, as though heâs trying to seem more of a man to spite that boyish way of speaking. And gods help you- itâs cute.
âDoes it have meaning?,â you settle to ask when he does not request your name in turn. A bit rude, though you do wonder if perhaps the bullish men in his settlements see delicate things like you more like pets anyhow. The thought of this warrior whisking you away and naming you one day⊠You swallow that lump in your throat again, teetering back on your heels as if to place more distance between you two.
âWhat do you think it means?â
That simple non-answer does finally allow your pulse to settle, only to rise immediately to find it insultingâ as if this wild man with no proper education had the right to insult you at all.
He only smiles again beneath that veil when your face sours. Awful, wretched, gorgeous creature⊠Youâre no threat to him and he knows it. Heâs only playing with you, dodging your pretension with a bit of his own, and unfortunately⊠This is the most pleasant conversation that youâve had with any man.
Your betrothed was only arrogant and dull, thereâs no light in his eyes when he smiles at you- everything is duty. Not here. Not with König, and surely the goddess of marriage and love is frowning down at you from her lofty throne, because youâre almost certain youâre infatuated with the brute by now.
âYouâre a bit rude.â
âKing.â He grins, a grin that you can see when he frees the leather flask from his belt and shoves his mask upward to take a heavy gulp of what is undoubtedly Roman wine. The glimpse alone makes you weak again, honey drips from your thoughts to your cunt, and you know now that you were never simply curious.
No, this brute would be the end of your engagement and even you if you allowed it.
You watch him take his fill, catch the bitter scent in the air as a bit trickles down from his rough jaw to his throat, all covered in scars. Heâs been in battle for a long time, likely why he wears the hood at all. The rest of that handsome face is undoubtedly a wreck just as what could be seen of his body, all covered in memories of where heâs had scrapes and dances with daggers only to fell his foes one by one with that long seax dangling from his hip.
After the hood and the flask are in their proper places once more, he gives you a nod, then speaks, âHow many coins?â
It takes a moment for the question to register in full; he isnât asking what you have on your person, but how much youâre worth. How much it would cost for you to spend a night in his bed, tolerating this giant between your legsâŠ
Your attractions billow up in smoke immediately, just as you expression sours and your hands curl to fists at your side, crushing the half-eaten apricot in the process. You toss the ruined fruit to the ground, allowing the sweet juice to coat your fingers as it flows downward.
You wring your hand as you very nearly shout, âYou are an animal. Iâm not here to sell myself.â
Your voice falters to a meek, little whisper with your final words, the breath a weak gust through the first tiny blossoms of spring.
Of course he catches onto your body language, to the way your thighs rub and tense beneath your skirt, the way your nipples peak at the mere sight of him and all of the infatuation and curiosity in your eyes. Men knew things like this, offhandedly, it seemed; if the others were correct then this beast could surely smell you, too.
The bastard only stares, eyes narrowing as his brow pulls together beneath the hood in some strange confusion. The whores wore their togas, not the stolas of maidens and married women, even a barbarian should have known that: his men were certainly no strangers to the sweet women with their faces chalked in lead.
Then, his shoulders pull up to fall in a shrug.
âRun, then, little one.â
Itâs almost as though he knows your thoughts in and out, a lemure himself as he presents the bulk of him that would strike fear into any man, taunts and goads. You donât want another fire dream. You force your courage and mirror his stance: chin up, back straightened as you look down upon him like a goddess sent to deliver her fury with⊠a pitted apricot at your feet rather than bolts of famine and misfortunes.
His eyes become stars, twinkling in earnest when he sees you then. Youâre no aristocrat, no empress, but you certainly feel the part when the giantâs gaze finally relaxes its pilferage and settles upon your face instead.
Your act is all for naught, because you realize that his men are approaching, opposite the stream. One of them was enough, but a hoard of others⊠You were not even certain that he could understand you properly, and the others could be even less patient. Your gaze travels over their forms, smaller than this âKönigâ, but each equipped with their own weapons and their own scars from battle.
They look from their leader to you, eyes grazing over the plush flesh that your stola dutifully conceals like starved dogs. One of them mutters something in a foreign tongue, harsh and guttural, his eyes never leaving your shape in a display of brazen appraisal.
König responds in turn, voice taking on a lower octave as he all but barks his response: harsh, unyielding language that you couldnât hope to interpret⊠but if you had to guess, you were nearly certain that his men were asking who would lift your skirts and have their way with you first.
You depart from them with tentative yet hurried feet, and you donât look back as you cross across the lush field. Thereâs no stopping at the stable, not a thought in your head except that you would most assuredly not be returning. The barbarians could have the field, the stream, whatever the cityâs officials had allowed them.
Just not you.
Itâs Gaius that greets you when you arrive home, to the little villa he had secured for you; to the place that would become less of a home and more of a prison once the two of you were wed. Youâre barely a foot in the door when the manâs gaunt face turns to you, his lips set in a stern line.
âWhere were you?â
You knew that look, itâs the very same that he gives to his slaves when heâs about to bleat out his orders like an enraged goat, shove them or grab at them to feel less small than he truly is.
Your brow pinches, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as you try in earnest to look the part of an innocent lady who had not just crossed a field and fantasized endlessly of some rude, barbaric oaf.
âIn the field. With the horses,â you deliver your half-truth with practiced ease. This wasnât the first time youâve lied to him, and it certainly would not be the last. If the protectress of Rome could overlook your stunts and recognize your discomfort in this wretchâs presence⊠then she might even side with you; save you from a future of sharing this manâs bed.
Gaius relents thenâ as much as a stoic, old man could. He reaches out to cup your face with one weathered hand and you have to force back to urge to shudder.
Itâs not that you mean to be cold, not after all that heâs done to care for you⊠it just comes as naturally as the seasons and the wills of the gods. Something about him always made you feel ill.
You eventually, tentatively jut your chin forward just a bit to force yourself into leaning toward the touch of his cold hand.
His lips curl into an unsightly grin; then, he pats your cheek and draws away enough to bless you with fresher air to breathe without his withering presence alone contaminating it.
âI brought you a gift, meum corculum.â
âOhâŠâ Your words come in a little hiss, your heart stuttering in your chest as you teeter back on the heels of your sandals. The straps along your calves feel tighter now, your stola too⊠maybe even the room itself: everything seems to close in, and you could only silently hope he doesnât request your affections for doing such. â⊠you didnât have to-â
âNonsense.â Gaius raises both of his hands, arcs them before stepping out of your path to reveal a new dress lying on the wooden table just beyond him, dyed a light blue.
Itâs pretty, well-spun and soft-looking⊠yet you still hesitate a bit when you step closer to run your fingertips over the fabric. It yields beneath your touch, bunches when you move each digit along the pliant linen, and itâs the softest thing youâve ever touched, maybe even softer than the lambs and kittens youâve played with in the streets.
âI thought that you might like something nicer to wear during Quinquatria,â he adds from just behind you. You feel his hands trace along your arms, further, until they reach your shoulders and give a gentle, but almost demanding squeeze.
Itâs meant to be affectionate and he is your husband-to-be⊠but he still manages to make you feel ill. Itâs only a blessing that heâs never requested more from you than a peck for his offerings to you.
What a man in his late stage of life could see in you, you couldnât hope to imagine. A fertile womb, likely, and you could only hope that that isnât also what he saw in the women he kept as slaves in his own home further toward the cityâs center. Nosy, dull man that he was, of course he needed to be closer to the housings of banquets and discussions to feel some level of importance while he kept you locked away toward the wall and the slums like some filthy little mystery.
âIâm tired, my love,â you manage, voice thin as you slowly pull yourself away, from both Gaius and the delicate blue thing you would be forced into wearing for the coming festival.
The man balks, but doesnât push. A few seasons and he would have what heâs awaited for years, the confident gleam in his eyes tells you that heâs certain of it.
Itâs difficult to believe that someone you had once considered a hero and a friend could make you feel so much disgust now. You were naĂŻve, then, and now you only feel how those poor horses locked away in the stables must feel, burdened with a constant yearning for your own freedom.
âThen rest.â
When the door shuts behind him, youâre only then able to expel your relief. The weight of what you must do settles upon you, heavy and unyielding, the boulder of Terminus.
You can not marry Gaius. You can not continue to breathe in the stink of the city from its miasmic aqueducts, perfumed only by the crowded marketplace full of mortals so contented with their own tedium. The unknown calls and calls, howling like a mother wolf to guide you. Even with the stories told of what fiends and horrors lie outside of the city you could almost feel with a certainty that you were destined for it.
You light your incense with a lump of coal in the burner of a clay pot. Just cinnamon would have to do for now. You make your peace with that promising Juno whichever sweet, flaking pastry that appeals most during the festival of Minerva.
Though you were more than content with your wish for nothing more to do with the barbarians after meeting with König earlier⊠he comes rushing back into your mind, rolling and lapping like waves as you begin to prepare yourself for sleep. The polished tin of your hand mirror reflects your face as you twirl the handle in a curled palm and you stare. Did he see beauty or simply a womb� Had you taken offense to nothing? The questions stir up remorse as you strip away your gown and take to the bed.
Just one more meeting with the foreigner, maybe. Just to say your farewells, wish him luck in future battles, bless his seax and his shield with a touch and a prayer (if he even had the sight to keep any form of defense on his person).
When Quinquatria comes, when the people are busy and satisfied with their food, fortune telling and the gladiator games, you will take your mare and ride off into a sea of stars. Each light will be a point of guidance until you reach the riverbed youâve only ever dreamt of, until you scale the mountains that sang so sweetly from the gothâs tongueâŠ
And perhaps he will chase you.
â â â
Quinquatria used to be one of your favorite festivals. The fortune tellers were your favorites, always seeming to know so very much with so little insight into your life. Then there were the revelers donning their colorful masks, barking out song with bitter wine painting their tongues.
You try to listen in on them as a woman traces over the patterns in your palm, the curved lines and straight, fine indentations. Palmistry, rather than any proper reading with sacrifices and proper seers stood before a temple. You reason that this is for fun, just like the wine-drinking and the gladiators fighting for their lives and the horrible stink of the cityâs streets: natural, reasonable, and dreadfully normal.
The fortune teller hums as she reads you through your hand, laughs a bit when she seems to note a secret or⊠something. You were not entirely sure. The woman was young, her belly likely as full of fermented fruit as everyone elseâs as they dance and crowd the street where you two are stood.
âYouâre unhappy, girl,â the woman muses, giving you a sympathetic look before another laugh pulls from her lips.
You give her a nod but donât say a word as she continues to stroke at your palm. Of course you were, anyone could tell just by the frail look upon your face, as if you were indeed bereft and ready to cry at any moment in this horrible, dainty dress with your betrothed fondling some lady mere paces from you.
âYet, so lovely,â she continues, nimbly running her fingers to your wrist. She curls them around you, turns your hand over and gives it a soft pat to signify that your reading is done.
âYouâre destined for a summer wedding.â Winter, you want to correct. âAnd your husband⊠strong and brave like the sacred wolf.â Weak and old, you force back with a clenched jaw.
She releases your wrist with one last assessment, âJuno favors you, sweet girl.â
You want to call her a fraud, but instead you merely part with the bronze you had promised to her. With Gaius preoccupied, his wrinkled hands already tucked beneath the skirt of the other womanâs stola, now would be the best time to wrench the door of your little cage wide open⊠not make a scene.
Your chest feels tight, and for the first time it isnât from some unknown fear, itâs excitement. Your heart hammers as the blood stirs within your veins, belly tense and breathing shallow, taking a stiff pace to walk along the shadow untouched by silver paths of moonlight.
Thereâs a bellow, a wail as the gladiators fight some distance off. Soft words and whispers filtering past like eerie words from something ghastly, moans from a brothel, bells on the wind, the stink of rot and perfume all from all that youâve known for so long as you leave it all behind.
Your mare is pacing restlessly in the field, her ears flicking and tail swaying behind her. Youâve no saddle, you hadnât even thought to procure food or any supplies. Youâre not even certain that sheâs been ridden by anyone, but you coax her over to the wooden fence that your body rests over; hands find the velvety fur of her gray snout, fingers moving to gently caress her mane and ears.
âWe are going to be free,â you whisper as your hands curl over her neck. The mare makes her displeasure known immediately, huffing and tensing immediately⊠and you realize that this isnât going to work, not without her bucking you off and leaving you injured or dead. Youâre not stupid or brazen enough to break a horse or anything, really. Not Gaius. NotâŠ
You would find König. Perhaps you could even trade the Goth for a horse already accustomed to being ridden⊠he had already revealed his intentions, and he was easy enough on the eyes to entertain the thought.
You give the mare a kiss farewell, right on the softness of her cheek and detach yourself from the fence to wander past the silver field, the gently flowing stream. The water dampens your dress, embeds itâs cold into your very bone where the sandals fail to protect. Spring or not, itâs hardly warm at night, and there are only so many rocks lying in the water to keep you from sinking in.
The clothes are drenched by the time you crawl to the other side. On the opposite bank, itâs only then that you turn back to look over at the city, one final glimpse of a place bathed in gold; cinder and ash from torchlight, flowers and the creeping scent of decay carry on the breeze. Even from the distance you can hear the music, chimes of steel on steel, the laughter and cries of mirth and pleasure.
Begrudgingly, you feel the first seeds of regret plucking at your heartstrings. Youâve nothing to your name apart from a few coins in a pouch strapped to your hip, no weapons, no food. You could die, you verily would if you went at this alone. And still, you force your face forward and continue your steady waltz to look the unknown straight in its bloody maw.
You wonât panic, wonât fear. Whatever awaits would be betterâ it had to be.
The barbarian camp comes into view some time later. You couldnât be certain how long youâve been walking, as though some spirit had plucked the chords of your mind and left you in some confused daze. It couldnât have been your own desperation. Something greater had to be at play, a proper destiny: one much better than the life of Gaiusâs wife, owned like a hound, imprisoned and uninspired.
Though their torches burn, their tents stitched together amalgamations of old pelts and cloth, the air is fresher here. You expected the reek of death, heavy on their skin, bathed in blood and the rot like visions of Mors herself. Instead, you smell smoked meat and wine on the air: a boar and fermented grape, fruit from the surrounding orchards, the heavy scent of men. Thereâs no celebration here, a few men talking quietly as their eyes wander over what you can only assume to be some sort of mapâ tactical discussion for their next bloodbath.
You puff your chest and steel your gaze as you walk towards them, expression set not unlike the stern looks your betrothed would give.
Your attempt at intimidation only earns a flicker of hunger in the gazes of these men, and then a bout of grating laughter. They glance at one another, discussing you in hushed voices in their mother tongue before one finally looks to you and asks a simple, âWas?â
âKönig,â you answer simply. âWhere might I find him?â
The question undoubtedly goes uninterpreted, but the name does spark a wave of interest that passes between their faces. Finally, one points toward the tent at the far side of the camp: ugly thing, vast and layered in dark tones of gray and maroon, the very structure is a bleeding animal.
You hear the laughter behind you, the lewd whispers and jeers and only a simpleton wouldnât be able to interpret the meaning; the titan that heads their little group has a lovely woman seeking him out like a wayward dream, and with adrenaline already coursing through you the thought of spending your night here doesnât even seem an insulting prospect.
The flap serving as the door of the tent parts as your hands move to lift it, and sure enough⊠the beast lies in wait in his den, seated on a mattress made up entirely of fur. His hood remains over his head as he traces the carvings on the handle of the seax, under flickering flame and the shadow of the tent König seems further unearthly, god walking amongst men as he toys with his weapon in some strange sort of ritual.
The ritual only seems to be one of boredom, because his eyes light up when they rest over you, standing like a dream as your dress billows with the breeze creeping in. Youâre drenched and dirty and pitiful in his presence, but he only seems to soften when he beckons you toward him with a curl of his fingers meeting his palm.
You obey with tentative steps, stopping next to him as he waits on the bed. If it were possible for your heart to seize and halt entirely without you collapsing to sink beneath the earth, it surely would now, so close to him.
âI need a favor,â you explain in whispers. âA horse.â
âA horse,â he repeats as his weapon is set aside, âWarum?â
You donât want to explain a thing. Heâs working with the very men that could drag you back to the city after being paid heavily by Gaius⊠your trust is blind and foolish and you almost want to break apart right here. How stupid to believe that you could find some solace here, with a giant that walks along the cusp between men and beasts. Your shaking hands reach out to drag along his vast shoulders, lingering on the healed wounds that dent and give rise to his flesh.
âIâll do what you want,â you offer quietly, earning a pleased rumble from his chest.
Though after a moment, he only sieges your wrists, pulls you down to the mattress at his side. He touches you no further, only stares down at you in a twist of amusement, reverence and confusion.
âWarum?,â he repeats, âTell me.â
You wind over onto your side, staring up at him with a desperation that youâve never known until this night, clawing down from your throat to bed itâs way into your roaring pulse, frightened and pleading. Just give in, ask no more, you want to wail to him as your vision begins to blur with tears.
Mercifully, he doesnât ask again. König lies at your side, mimicking the way you curl onto your side and again⊠he smiles, though this one is unlike the way he looked upon you by the stream. It lacks that boyish twinkle, the intensity of the lines forming beneath his eyes: itâs more of a pleasantry than anything genuine.
âYou are married?â
âWhat? NoâŠâ You swallow hard, toying with a thread thatâs begun to pull free from your hip, twirling it between your fingers. ââŠnot yet.â
âAch⊠but you belong to another, ja?â
You want to howl out your frustrations up to every god and goddess above, burn through the Elysian with your misery alone. You wish, yearn for the courage to cast off that mask and lure him in with a kiss, erase any memory of Gaius with the kindling of a truer passion.
Your voice doesnât come, and your fingers steadily pluck at that thread, feeling more unsure of yourself with each passing second.
Again, your bastard god grants his mercy as he raises a hand to cup your jaw, the warmth of him singing away the memory of the weathered hand that had touched you there before. His hand is so much larger, strong and riddled with calluses; you swear that you can feel his own fluttering pulse through his fingertips when they press against your bottom lip.
âNot after tonight,â he hums.
When the shroud is tugged up and his mouth meets your own, Königâs kiss is exactly what you had expected: a sloppy, eager clash of teeth and tongue. He steadies you with a hand pressed to the back of your neck as his grunts filter past your own lips. Your eyelids flutter, then close as you allow your mind to finally relax, coaxed into the ethereal with each swipe of his tongue and pleasured sound drawn up from the well of his throat.
He pulls away with a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth, gazing down at you as though heâs been deprived of light for the entirety of his being and had only now met the sacred flame. Itâs incomparable to how easily your betrothed would cast his scrutiny; though the hunger is similar, thereâs something far more enticing here.
âDo you trust me?â
Königâs voice holds no apprehension as he speaks; the question is just as blunt as each bulge of muscle and peek of teeth through the grin on his face, only set aglow by dim candlelight in the tent. You donât nod, donât even reply immediately as you stare at him a little dumbly, still intoxicated by the ferocity of his affections.
â⊠I donât know.â
He moves a hand over your eyes then, gently presses his palm over you until youâre bathed in such darkness that you shudder. Itâs a disconcerting feelingâ not because you fear him so much anymore, but because if this were Gaius you would have already been squirming away, rushing to hide. You want to kiss his palm, revel in whatever piece of him he gives to you.
âSehr schön,â König coos to you in a whisper. You settle further, allowing the tension to leave you almost entirely as you fall into the velvety embrace of all of this darkness and the pelts beneath your back.
He shifts at your side, and almost immediately thereâs a cold chill at your collar, something sharp that he rakes over the softness of your flesh, then down, down to snag at the top of your dress. Your gasp is quieted by a kiss as you feel his weight shift over you, and just as you begin to melt into it⊠the fabric begins to tear, shreds as he guides his blade further, past your breasts and along your sternum, your belly, further.
âDonât..,â you manage to hiss against his mouth, immediately taken over by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your teeth. Your nipples peak at the sudden chill as your dress lies ruined to either side of your body, thighs trembling as the blade hooks along the linen concealing your maidenhood.
One more generous, gentle cut and that comes away too.
Youâre entirely bare when he retreats to your side again, one hand still clutching the blade as he moves his head to lay over your breast and⊠never, never had you heard of a man lapping and suckling at a woman like a pup, but thatâs what he begins to do; his tongue circles over the bud, tugging it between his teeth until you feel the wetness between your legs beginning to drip to smear upon the mattress.
Itâs caught, quick, as he turns the blade in his hand to slot its grip against your sex. Itâs cold, but his mouth is warm, attentive as he licks between the valley of your breasts to capture your other nipple.
The noises that leave your mouth are filthy, rivaled only by the sounds youâve heard in brothels⊠König only seems appreciative of them, muttering praises as he grinds the cold metal against your cunt, careful as the ridges of it graze your throbbing bud, gathering your slick to make the glide that much easier.
When he moves to dive for your breasts again, you cradle his jaw in your hands, peering up at those moonlight eyes in silent pleading as you capture him in another burning kiss.
The blade turns again, its sharpness directed down so as to not bring you any harm as you desperately roll your hips against its coldness. He groans into your mouth, panting softly just as you begin to whine.
Youâve never heard of a man making love to a woman with a weapon⊠or of one suckling at her as though sheâs lactating when she is not, but⊠it has the desired result when your body tenses and all that can escape you is a frail whisper of his name.
The heat sweeps from your foggy head to your middle as your thighs squeeze around the damned thing and König presses his lips to your temple. You climax for him, chasing wave upon crashing wave of intensity with stilted bucks of your hips. He clicks his tongue in approval when youâve finished, holds up the seax again, smeared wet with your essence and twinkling as though it had been bathed in the stream once more.
You know with a certainty youâve lost Junoâs favor. If he chose you to carve you open with his come-stained blade the goddess would not make her descent to save you.
âGut,â he whispers into your hair. To your horror, maybe even fascination, he raises the dirtied silver to his lips and licks your sweetness from it with another low groan.
âWh⊠why would you do that..?â Your rapture feels almost shameful as you watch him lap at the weapon, the long tongue meeting silver only warmed by your heat.
Heâs mad, certainly, and you only find yourself further infatuated: you reason that you must be tooâŠ
König doesnât answer you as he sets the seax aside again, not in words. Instead, he cups your face and directs your lips to his own where he laps at your tongue, suckling it in the same way he did your tits. Itâs slow and sensual, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, smell yourself on him as his hands find your waist and tug you closer until youâre lying almost entirely over him; one leg thrown over his thigh with your hands splayed over his chest.
The titan is hard beneath the pelt he wears, felt against the plushness of your thigh, the brown fur wrapped around his hips is pushed to rise where itâs harboring something akin to a pillar⊠but he doesnât force you to settle over it, makes no attempt to tug it free, despite its throbbing against your leg,
âI needed your blessing,â he mutters, a hand settling over your naked hip, tracing small shapes with his thick fingers. The other finds your shoulder to pull you into a cuddle, pulled so tightly against him that youâre hardly able to discern where your warmth ends and his begins.
âA.. a blessing?â Your voice comes as a trembling croak, head pressed into the gap between a broad shoulder and the column of his throat.
âWe are leaving in the morning.â
âOhâŠâ
âI will give you the horse when I return.â
Your head feels like a mess. Youâre not even certain of what youâve just doneâ did that count as sex? Would he tell the Roman soldiers he works alongside of how he had convinced some pompous aristocratâs lovely bride to lustrate his blade with her essence? You could hit him, demand the horse now and bolt, but you only melt against him: eyelashes fluttering as exhaustion takes hold and the tension leaves you entirely.
âThatâs all?â
König pets you, running a hand along your spine and back up to repeat. He presses his nose to the crown of your head, nuzzling against it until his hand is freed from your form and only then does it coax its way beneath the fur covering his groin.
He laughs at the weak sound of surprise you elicit when that beast is pulled free, another, thicker weapon curled in his hand. The thickness, the length of it that tapers off to a layer of skin, eager and pulled back from the tip, leaking beads of milky white: something that would surely tear you if he were not careful, and the thought brings you to squeeze your thighs together, concealing the leaking, thrumming thing between.
âI will fuck you when I return, too,â he huffs into your scalp, causing you to further bury your face against him, intent not to let him see the effect his derangement seems to have on you. You would let him bury himself into your chest, steal the breath from your very lungs, but you donât breathe a word of it. Something tells you itâs a mutual thing, perhaps it was all spelled out for you when he asked for your favor rather than from any of his foreign gods.
You count your undeserved blessings. He seems sated only ruining you with his touch for the time being, youâre very comfortable here, and though you dare not speak it⊠you do find this brute charming. He speaks where you fail to, whispers of your beauty being like that from myths and dreams.
He doesnât force you to leave, either, only paws at and squishes your breasts until you squeak and whine your protests, already sore from his teeth leaving their marks all over them. When he tires of his fun, youâre pulled into a crushing embrace where he rests his head against your own, blankets you in himself entirely. You were right⊠the shadow he casts over you blackens out the sun, moon, stars all of it; dulls the haze of carnality with something far more tender.
Your night becomes entirely made up of König: his scent like forest and sweat, the furs from beasts heâs chased down and slain, his soft breathing and gentle snores when he does fall asleep against you.
No dreams come to you, no lemures to haunt you with their wails and flames. Not even Juno descends to punish you. Youâre warm and soft and contented like the kittens curled up in clusters along the streets on cold nights.
Itâs the first night of peace youâve had in some time.
When morning comes, the brightness of the sun peeking through the flaps of the tent, you wake to find König already out of bed. He stands at the far side of the tent, strapping on pelts and gear and the leather pouch filled with wine. His seax is held up in utter revelry, and mortifyingly enough⊠you immediately note that he hadnât cleaned away the remnants of what occurred last night either.
When you bring yourself to sit upright, the giant only drops to his knees at your feet and curls his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to the valley between your breasts through the thick fabric of the hood.
And⊠it almost hurts, to realize then that this is something youâve longed for. Youâre not arrogant enough to believe yourself worthy of some foreign worship, but he seems to liken you of some devout little acolyte, as if your come and kisses could grant him favor while he butchers poor souls all in favor of your empire: the people he had likely been communing and trading with only months before. Traitorous, mad, utterly enthralling man⊠Youâre not certain whether you want to relieve yourself from him or guide him back into bed for more frenzied pleasures.
âYou will stay?,â he murmurs into your skin as his kisses trail up to your neck.
You hadnât even considered what you would do, it never came to mind, but staying in a shoddy tent in wait for him to return with the horse heâs promised was far from favorable. Youâre out from the city, still without food or weapons, your dress and underclothes are a torn ruin on the floor, nothing but the wind and the stream and Königâs stinking furs⊠The bathhouse seems to call to you now more than ever. Your lower lip trembles when you think of returning to that stale place, to be questioned endlessly about your affairs from your âdotingâ husband-to-beâŠ
Your head shakes solemnly. âIâll wait for you at home.â
König drags you up onto your feet and closer as he savors in another embrace. Youâre cloaked in a gray pelt, tied up and over your shoulders like the gaudiest tunic in the world, but you bur your nose into its shoulder, humming in contentment when you find that it smells just like him.
Heâs more confident and proud than youâve ever seen him now. The filthy blade remains strapped to his hip when he gathers you up to sit at his front on the back of his horseâ a dark stallion with a pelt the same shade as the night sky. It doesnât even seem to flinch at your combined weight, just canters along smoothly as König directs it through the sprawling field and past the stream to lead you back towards the cityâs gates.
Youâre not thinking of Juno or Gaius or traditions when König cinches your waist with a thick arm to draw you in closer; thereâs nothing but fluffy warmth pooling in your chest sent by Venus when you feel his hips shift to press himself against your back. His head dips to kiss at your neck, your burning cheeks, shoulder, anyplace that he can.
When the horse comes to a halt with a sharp tug of its makeshift reigns, some length of rope and twine, his hand is at your rear.
Everythingâs incensed and floral when youâre lowered to the ground, when he lifts the hood to grin down at you, not only with his eyes this time. Itâs a sheepish, gluttonous grin, drunk off your very presence.
âI will come back for you, meine Göttin.â
And you know now, that the palm reading had been trueâ thereâs your wolf in preparation for a hunt, the man whoâs unwittingly aiding you in your pursuit of freedom painted with mountains and vast, blue skies. You will convince him to come away too, lay down the blade youâve blessed with your pleasure. A summer wedding⊠far from wars of greed and smirking old men.
Your head swims when he bids you farewell, rides off on his massive horse back to his camp to gather his own men to march. You watch him go, breath caught up in your throat, a burning longing in your chest that you can not entirely dismiss.
The walk of shame only comes when youâve crossed the threshold separating Königâs world from your own.
The stink of the streets immediately washes away any lingering scent of him on your skin, on his pelt you now hide away with your arms curled around your waist.
You catch your reflection in stagnant water held in a pot, swaying and ebbing gently as others breeze past you.
Youâre in a foreignerâs clothes that just barely crest your thighs, hair a mess and the carmine you had worn to bring a false blush to your cheeks is smeared over an eye and down to your jaw. You look the part of an adulteress, maybe, even as you dip your hand into the water to wash the makeup from your face.
There isnât much to be done about the marks left over the hints of your chest revealed beneath the fur, but you make your way home without anyone even bothering to ask. If anything, the festivities from the night prior only seemed to subdue the standard bustle. You could only imagine how exhausted the hungover soldiers may have been as they undoubtedly prepare for the expedition König had mentioned.
That overrides your shame, sobers you from that sugary elation somewhat. Youâre worried. Itâs not just about König himself, not about the threat of fucking you when he returns left unfulfilledâ though, those are enough to make your heart begin itâs hammering, rabbit in the throes of a chase. The horse, too. That proud stallion, your hope of a swift escape before winter comes and itâs all lost. If his drunken allies fail him in battle, if some other barbarianâs spear strikes true and fells your titan then the dream is dispelled into smoke, sunken down to river bed to be lashed away by frothing waters.
Whoever decided that the day after revelry would be the time to move was a fool indeed. The deities couldnât look at you after last night, you know if they saw their noses would be turned up in disgust⊠perhaps not Jupiterâs, heâs more guilty than you could ever be, but your offerings had never been for him had they?
You fret and hiss below your breath as you wind your way back to the villa with its white walls and terracotta-tiled roof. The sun bears down on you like the flame of your dreaming. Youâre afraid again, letting the lemures find their way in through the gaps in your shivering limbs to haunt your dreams.
Gaius is not there to greet you, likely still recovering from his own fevered night. Youâre grateful for that.
The little altar to Juno still stands atop a table in your room, the burner still smells of cinnamon, dried flower petals and a dish of honey still sat there entirely untouched. She hasnât split it in two, abandoned you, but it does feel that way when you peel away the fur.
Your fingers nudge at the bruises laden into your skin, the marks that look like teeth to either side of your breast. You press into them, gently, immediately feel that coil of heat, and you donât want to sleep. That fire from your dream only seems to have become a part of you: you know it intimately now, it comes with pleasure and bite marks and a heavy weight harbored in your chest.
You cinch your waist and tie your stola at your shoulder, brush your hair out with a comb made of ivory. You rub your bruises with a salve made of honey, bandage up what you can and hide away what you canât by tugging up your breast band.
The same as any other day, you take to the streets of the city and peruse the marketplace, take to the empty bathhouse to wash away all thatâs consumed you over the past day. And you watch the soldiers go as they march through the streets, women and children waving away their fathers and brothers with prayers and sentimental words.
They don themselves in red, clutching their gladiuses, spears and heavy shields as they filter out and away where your very being longs to be. Their faces are giddy, almost: the prospect of pillaging and felling each enemy another delightful treat just like those found in the gladiator pits and amidst rolling with the whores in their brothel beds. You can not hope to understand their mirth, the happiness in any of the civilians either.
You watch them leave wistfully, lips pressed to a thin line, fingers digging into the waist of the stola. You down your fair share of the wine Gaius has left in your cellar. The day merely passes you by, the sewing left undone on the floor, altar bathed in cinnamon and saffron as you make your prayers and beg like any dog.
The mattress feels lonely and sad without the warmth of a body made for war curled against you, without his breath in your hair and his arms wrapped around you. Itâs cold, too, and far harder than his, all straw and thin sheets. None of this feels like home.
Your eyes eventually close as the last of the sunâs rays begin to die, blotted out by the dark, untouched by torchlight.
You dream of fire.
#könig#könig x reader#könig x you#konig x reader#konig#konig x you#cod fanfiction#f: only other#tw: dubcon
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Leaving IV
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader
Summary: Alexia takes you on holiday
The first time Alba and Alexia went on holiday with each other was when Alexia turned eighteen.
Suddenly, she had independence and some adult money to blow on frivolous things so she took Alba to Ibiza with her.
You got left at home because you were still very little and going to the beach and tanning was not something you enjoyed.
Instead, with both of your sisters in Ibiza, Mama took you to the beach near the house and you did fun things like building a sandcastle and eating your weight in ice cream.
Mama made a weekend of it and you were certain you had a much more fun time than Alba and Alexia did. You couldn't imagine laying in the sun and sleeping the day away with fruity drinks could be much fun or, at least when you were younger you couldn't imagine it being fun.
Now though, as a teenager that was also an athlete, you enjoyed you sleep. Naps were an important part of your routine. You came home from school and napped before getting up to go to your training. Then you would come home and nap until dinner.
It was good routine. You liked your routine.
You didn't like having it interrupted at three in the morning by Alba shaking you awake.
You blindly bat a hand at her. "Go away." You roll over onto your front and bury your head in the pillow. "Five more minutes."
"You'd already said that," She says," Come on, get up."
"No."
"If you don't get up now then Alexia will be up with a bucket of water. Then you'll have to get up and change your sheets. Come on, up!"
You groan loudly, muffled by your pillow before forcing yourself up.
The only reason you agreed to going on Alexia and Alba's sister holiday was because you thought you could relax. But, with Alexia in charge, you should have known that would never be the case.
She'd booked the flight for six forty-five leading to this three in the morning wake-up call so you dragged yourself out of your body and changed into some plane comfortable clothing.
It was barely an hour's flight from Barcelona to Mallorca so you've no idea why Alexia insisted on the stupidly early flight.
Either way, you drag your suitcase down the stairs and flip your hood up in an attempt to show your protest at the early morning wake-up call.
Alexia pulls it straight back down.
You flip it up again.
She pulls it down again.
You reach to put it up. Alexia's stern look stops you.
You kick her in the shin.
"You kick like a baby," She says, sticking her tongue out.
"I'm going to bite you."
"Ah," Alba says wistfully, throwing her arms around each of you," Just like old times!"
Alexia grins and ruffles your hair. You pretend to be annoyed.
You manage to have a small nap on her shoulder on the flight over and then get rudely awakened by her shaking you.
The villa is nice though and it's even nicer when you remember Alexia is paying for absolutely everything.
The house has a pool and a shady spot for naps and a big inflatable sword that you're going to use to smack Alba when she annoys you. It's near the beach and is only a ten-minute walk or so into town.
All in all, you're actually quite happy to be on this trip with your older sisters, even though Alba shoves past you to claim the room you wanted as her own.
The sun is nice and hot and you close your eyes for your midday nap as Alba floats around in the pool and Alexia paces around on the phone to her girlfriend.
It's nice and peaceful and sleep comes easy to you.
You don't know how long you've been sleeping by the time Alexia wakes you up by squirting cold sun cream onto your back.
You shriek, flinching away but her strong hands follow you and you can feel her rubbing it in.
"Ale," You whine," I don't need any."
"You do," She insists, working it more furiously into your skin," I got the strongest I can find."
"But then I won't tan!"
"Good. Tanning can cause skin cancer."
"You tan!"
"I don't have delicate baby skin," Alexia says and you turn your head back to look at her in disbelief," Skin cancer is scared of me."
From the sunbed next to you, Alba scoffs. Her face is covered in sun cream that hasn't been rubbed in yet. Clearly, she was Alexia's first victim.
"I don't have delicate baby skin!" You insist.
"Yes, you do." Alexia bats your arms away. "Mama made me promise to make sure you two wore your sun cream which means no tanning oil and no fighting me on it! I'm the oldest. I'm in charge!"
"You can't be in charge of me," Alba says," I'm an adult."
Alexia thinks for a moment before nodding. She prods you in the pack. "You're a baby so I'm in charge of you."
You groan. "This is so unfair!"
"Life's unfair," Alexia says impassively," Now, stay still. I might have missed a spot."
You're pretty sure she dumped the whole bottle on you.
Alexia's a hoverer. She always has been and she always will be.
Her arm is slung around your shoulders as you make your way down the street to find some food. She's insisted on getting you a big floppy hat to protect your face even though she's completely drowned it in sun cream.
"I'm kind of craving seafood," Alba says," Seafood and pasta."
You nod. "I want pasta too."
Alexia nods along. "Pasta sounds good."
"I want dessert as well," You continue.
"That's such a good idea!" Alba agrees quickly," I could kill for some warm cookie dough right now."
You nearly drool at the thought. "With whipped cream."
"And caramel sauce!"
Alba grabs your hand, pulling you out of the security of Alexia's arm and starts sprinting down the street, to where all the restaurants have lined up their menus for the night.
You allow yourself to be dragged, easily keeping pace with her.
You turn to look behind you. "Ale, come on!"
Alexia catches up in record time, grabbing your other hand.
"Seafood, pasta and cookie dough," She laughs," I want dough balls too."
#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
633 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tw: female reader, nsfw, confinement, dub-con/non-con, sapphic My Ko - fi <3
Oh, to be the housewife of a rich, well - respected business-woman.
She has it all - looks, money, charisma, success, and now she has you as well, locked away in her vacation villa, cooking and cleaning and making it feel like a home while she's leading her fast - paced corporate job.
She comes late into the evening, sighing softly as she makes her way to you. Diane hugs you from behind, burying her face in your neck - simply melting against you. You try to hide your unease as you silently apologize for the cold dinner once again, even though none of it is your fault. She just clicks her tongue playfully and smacks your ass - when she's feeling gracious, and shoves you against the kitchen counter when she's had a particularly bad day at work.
No matter what her mood is, she always finds a way to take her stress out on you. After all in her eyes you're there to serve her - her sweet little wife, all pretty in gowns, or flowery dresser, or even better naked and covered in gold from head to toe.
Her kisses are always rough and leave you breathless, trying to catch your breath. Her touch is restless and unyielding, hot, merciless fingers stroking and pinching and slapping and squeezing for hours on end. Diane loves to tie you up in various positions, helpless and immobilized to her wicked will. She can't resist laying you on her queen sized bed and stuffing you with a fat mean vibrator, your scared gasps and pained moans of overstimulated pleasure ringing in her ears like the sweetest tune of music.
And just when you're too exhausted to fight, yet too spent to keep squirming under the toy, she kneels before you, spreading you once again so that you can feel each torturous inch of her tongue and fingers as they slip in and out of your wet, tight hole.
Then she kisses your forehead gently - just like a ritual, before taking you into her arms and washing you throughoutly, never missing a creak. You cry out weakly one last time as she tuggs you into bed, and she pulls you so close you can feel the heat radiating off her body once she starts whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You try to stay on guard but eventually you fall asleep, embraced by silk and warmth.
Then the next day it all repeats again.
#female yandere#female yandere x reader#yandere oneshot#yancore#yandere#yandere female x reader#yandere x you#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere smut#female yandere x female reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
beneath the moonlight / ln4 sneak peek
lando norris x maxf!sister(afab)
warning ⯠language, 18++ mentioning, minors dni.
a/n ⯠requests still open, but are closing soon. i will be wanting to clear out my ask box as soon as possible. beneath the moonlight is a concept created by one of you!!! and i am excited to share it once it is done. it is currently sitting at 5.2k words, but i hope to double it by next week to post this for you all. the overwhelming support and comments truly makes my day, and i want everyone to know that i cherish the absolute fuck out of you. stay shining, lovelies, and i hope you enjoy this sneak peek.
reader is max fewtrell's younger sister. childhood yearning. oblivious young lando, turned grown man. smut coming with full fic (18++ only), wc: 701 (just for the sneak peek obvs. unedited as well.)
you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from.Â
he did.Â
there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back.Â
lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty.Â
âyou wanna know something?â you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. âi had a crush on you when i was a kid.â
that stifled a laugh from the british driver. âyou did not.âÂ
you shook your head. âsure did.â you didnât know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. âmax was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me youâd be there.âÂ
the pieces began melding together in landoâs mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldnât see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of âwhat-ifsâ trifling through his mind.Â
ââwas just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.â your hands covered your face for a brief moment.Â
âyou always wore skirts,â he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. âthat why?âÂ
you were shameless when you nodded your head.Â
âso embarrassing, i knowââÂ
âwhat about now?â he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips.Â
âwhat do you mean?â your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest.Â
âwhat do you feel for me now?âÂ
you couldnât meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldnât judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down.Â
there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didnât have you as afraid as you thought youâd be.Â
he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you.Â
you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his.Â
he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins.Â
landoâs legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips.Â
âyou didnât answer me.â he repeated.
you crossed your arms over your chest.Â
âsome dreams just remain dreams.âÂ
he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall.Â
âdo you want to dream forever?âÂ
no. no. you didnât. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted.Â
you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same?Â
his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes.Â
âwake me up,â you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldnât appreciate a woman at his side. âplease.âÂ
he didnât wait any longer to meet your lips with his own.Â
#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris fic#lando x y/n#lando x you#lando norris one shot#f1 fics#f1 fluff#f1 driver x you#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fics#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fluff#lando x reader#lando norris#lando norris x you#f1 driver x reader#f1 smut#f1 fic#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#formula one#sneak peek#đ«âprogress#đ*âmine
394 notes
·
View notes
Text
my dealer: got some straight gas đ„đ this strain is called âlaudanum-dosed wine at the villa diodati on lake geneva in 1816â đł youâll be zonked out of your gourd đŻ
me: yeah whatever i donât feel shit
5 minutes later: dude i swear i just saw mary shelley and claire clairmont talking about reanimation and vampires with lord byron
my buddy percy pacing: dr. john polidori is plotting against us and my wifes nipples have been replaced by eyeballs
#meme#memes#the geneva squad#geneva squad#percy bysshe shelley#percy shelley#mary shelley#lord byron#claire clairmont#john polidori#the vampyre#frankenstein#gothic 1986#the haunting of villa diodati#dr. who#villa diodati#gothic literature#gothic lit#laudanum#19th century#vampires#goth#funny#english literature#literature#romanticism#the romantics#poetry#dark academia#lit memes
728 notes
·
View notes
Photo
PRIMA PAGINA Eco Di Bergamo di Oggi lunedĂŹ, 05 agosto 2024
#PrimaPagina#ecodibergamo quotidiano#giornale#primepagine#frontpage#nazionali#internazionali#news#inedicola#oggi bergamo#lunedi#agosto#dedicazione#euro#aperti#tutto#centro#occupiamo#revisioni#villa#fomenta#guerre#basta#papa#alberto#bobbio#della#pace#nessuno#riesce
0 notes
Text
Day 4: Overstimulation
Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon
Mob!Bucky Barnes Ă Wife!Reader
Summary: Buckyâs determined to give you an orgasm in every room of your private villa.
Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, spanking
Word count: 1.8k
A/N: dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies
đ Join my Kinktober Taglist đ
Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist I Library | Ko-fi
The villa Bucky chose for the first week of your honeymoon is absolutely stunning - views directly out onto a white sandy beach from a large infinity pool, a built-in spa and sauna you are already eager to try out as well as being completely fitted out with the most lush furnishings and extravagant amenities.
But he doesnât give you time to enjoy any of it, for as soon as you walk over the threshold, Bucky bends you over the substantial kitchen island, pushes your skirt up around your waist, pulls your panties down to your ankles and licks a stripe up your slit, paying no mind to the two bodyguards following you into the residence.
He starts out eagerly, pushing his warm, wet tongue into your pussy as his thick fingers spread your folds bare for him. His name falls from your lips in a low moan, but this only spurs him on, wanting to hear his wife repeat his name like the God the majority of New York believe him to be.
As he relentlessly devours you, your orgasm builds, the band in your lower stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue, lapping up the arousal flooding from your core that Bucky himself is responsible for.
âFuck Buck, right there, donât stop.â If it werenât your beloved husband spreading your ass cheeks wide and nose deep in your pussy, you might be embarrassed by how quickly you are hurtling towards your release.
But James Barnes knows every inch of your body with exact precision, he has memorised the map of how to navigate to the height of your pleasure and has the uncanny ability to bring you right to the edge with a single touch. Something he prides himself on.
Your first orgasm comes when his thumb toys with your puckered asshole and his plump lips suckle on your clit. The smooth marble underneath your fingertips provides no grip, no traction to pull yourself away from Buckyâs onslaught.
Before you can even take a breath to stabilise yourself after your high, Bucky picks you up bridal style and walks your limp body over to the couch of the connecting lounge room.
He places you on all fours on the leather couch, and after ridding himself of all nuisance clothing, he drives himself inside your sopping entrance without any notice. Your velvety walls burn deliciously as you stretch to accommodate him - a stretch that you will crave for the rest of your life.
âGood girl, take it all.â Bucky commands. He starts out at a brutal pace, but somehow with each thrust he seems to both accelerate the movement of his hips and plunge deeper within you, filling you completely and kissing your cervix.
Wet, salacious sounds fill the grand room, along with your strained voice chanting Buckyâs name like a prayer. You bury your face in the top of the backrest of the couch in an attempt to muffle the obscene moans falling from your lips as Bucky grips your hips tighter and continues fucking into you relentlessly.
You feel him press an affectionate kiss between your shoulder blades before his domineering hand grasps your neck and pulls you back into him, the warm length of his body pressing against yours.
âBe a good wife and take everything your husband gives you. Every. Fucking. Inch.â His words are growled into your ear and a shiver runs down your spine. He punctuates each word with a hard slap to your ass.
He reaches around your body, his hand finding your clit with the ease of magnets attracting one another. As he begins teasing your sensitive bundle of nerves, you feel like youâre floating, unable to come down from the pure bliss Bucky has fucked you into, every collision of his hips against yours bringing you closer to your inevitable end.
âThis fat cock feels good, doesnât it?â Luckily itâs a rhetorical question because in your current euphoric state you canât find any words to express how good your husband is making you feel. âBe a good little slut and cum on it for me.â
You donât even realise tears are leaking from your eyes when your next orgasm slams into you like a train, thighs quivering, inadvertently trying to crawl to the other side of the couch to find some relief from the spasming pleasure, even though you know Bucky will never let you go until youâve ridden out your entire high.
The next room you find yourself in is the adjacent dining room. The table had been set for your arrival, but Bucky soon sweeps the settings at one end crashing onto the floor as he lays your back gently on the mahogany tabletop.
âGod damn, Iâll never get enough of this tight pussy.â Bucky exclaims as he pushes inside you again. You gasp at the sudden intrusion of his thick length, every part of your body twitching with heightened awareness.
His thrusts are more languid this time, longer and deeper, but youâre so sensitive from your previous orgasms that youâre already right on the edge with just a few pumps.
âYouâre so beautiful when you cum, my love.â His voice is softer in tone, words soothing as he shifts the position of your legs so they instead rest on his shoulders. His eye contact is just as intense as the momentum of his hips slapping yours. âNeed you to do it again for me. Want you looking in my eyes when I make you cum.â Bucky urges, his hand migrating down to where your bodies meet, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your puffy and oversensitive clit.
The pressure building within your core borders on agonising, youâre sure that this impending orgasm will be larger than any else of your married life thus far, and with how heâs hitting every spot inside you that engages an electric current surging up your spine, you know youâre so close.
It only takes another flick of your clit and youâre there, falling over a cliff and plunging into a deep ocean of pure pleasure.
âFuck, Iâm cumming again!â You announce as your back arches off the dinning table, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your entire body convulses by the sheer magnitude of your orgasm.
âThatâs it baby, keep âem coming.â Bucky doesnât let up, smirking as you writhe in front of him. âSoak me sweetheart.â
And you do just that.
Before you even realise whatâs happening, your release gushes out of you, soaking Buckyâs stomach and thighs, the force of your squirt pushing him out of you. He rubs his bulbous tip frantically over your clit, prolonging your high and milking every last drop of arousal from you.
You sense him pick you up again, a soft kiss placed to your hairline as you move throughout the house again.
Much later in the night, youâve lost count of how many times youâve cum, the line between each orgasm blurring, waves of pleasure melding into one huge tsunami. You canât even remember which room you last came in, mind in a complete daze, all you can perceive is Buckyâs looming presence over you and the way heâs playing your body like a fiddle, each stroke, strum and nip brings you closer to your next high like a symphony orchestra playing to a crescendo.
âToo much.â You attempt to mumble, unsure if youâre even articulating the words correctly, feebly pushing at his veiny arm to give yourself a semblance of a break from the overwhelming sensations your husband is subjecting you to.
It feels like your entire body is trembling on the king sized bed you get to call yours for the next week as you attempt to steady your breathing, trying to focus on anything other than the violently intense sensations Bucky is responsible for between your legs.
âJust one more, darling. I know you can give me another. Youâre doing so well for me.â He coos before his lips latch onto your breast, the tip of his tongue lightly circling your areola before suckling your hardened nipple.
âI canât.â A sob bubbles up your throat, understanding if you really wanted to stop you could use your prearranged safeword. It isnât that you want to stop - it just feels too good, the pleasure so earth shatteringly intense that it borders on pain.
âYes you can. I know you can, baby.â He praises, planting a sweet kiss to your sweaty forehead as you mewl, Buckyâs nimble fingers continuing to move in and out of you at a damaging pace. âDo it for me.â
All it takes is those four short words. Do it for him, do it for your husband, and youâre coming undone again for him. You whine his name as the most immense pleasure fires from the base of your spine, spreading like exploding fireworks through the rest of your body.
You donât feel Bucky pull his fingers from you, nor do you discern his weight drop beside you in bed. It takes a couple minutes before your mind becomes a clear stream of thoughts and you can decidedly feel your extremities again.
âMy perfect wife.â Bucky mumbles into your neck as you work to catch your breath and bring yourself assuredly back to earth after your visit to the heavens.
You turn your head to meet his gaze, and if you werenât already breathless from the numerous orgasms heâs pulled from your body, the pure love and affection swirling in his stunning blue eyes youâve fallen in love with would punch all the air from your lungs.
Warmth blooms in your chest at the soft, devoted smile painted on his features. He places a sweet kiss to your nose and then to your sweaty hairline.
âYou still with me, darling?â
âJust barely.â You chuckle, finding enough energy to lift your arm up and draw along his sharp jaw with your index finger. Bucky takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles and adjusting your extravagant wedding ring so that the scintillating diamond sits perfectly centred on your finger, before pulling your body into him so there is no space remaining between you.
âHow about we run you a warm bath?â Bucky offers in a low tone, lifting your chin with a single bent finger so he can slot his supple lips against your own in a tender kiss. âWe didnât quite make it to the ensuite, so if weâre to complete the set, you still owe me one more orgasm.â
đ Join my Kinktober Taglist đ
Mob!Buckyâs Kinktober Honeymoon Taglist: @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @kandis-mom @buggy14 @opheliastark @auntiegigi @alovecraft @cinnxbunny @zincxxx @cultofcarter @rose-alyssa @kaitlin013106 @wandas-gurlfri3nd @beautifulrare4leafclover @queenyamimarrero @littlerya @noobzandboobzandhooz @wanda2themax @lonelywolfheart @Kbananaclip14 @depressed-gays-of-marvel @ur--mommy @jollyfirebattrash @lauratang @casa-boiardi @raging-panda @nicoline1998enilocin @melsunshine @stinkerbelle007 @mememe7147 @happycat547 @matchat3a @Sirmeowertheruthless7 @inlovewithficnalmen @katiemarsblog @irienanicole @buckyisveryhot @littleravengirl @whyamireadingthis @vase-of-lilies @Mrsrogers77 @saltyshluts @Wwhitewolff @buckysdogtagss @mylastnamesyuh @alexandria-fandom @andth3ywereroommates @avalongreene-09 @sargentbarnxes @keira324 @cherryschaos @missusbarnes-rogers @cherriesnwinee @Ellieangelbee @Shirayukiuzukaze @goldylions @elacinnamoon @buckysdollx @mrsmischief209 @capsbestgirl77 @its-just-smut-haha @ironmansson29 @Slutforderekhale @otome-loves-what @jacesswifey @winterslove1917 @black-mistress-of-evil @buckyscumwhore @purple-vegan @snapcapquartet @jacesswifey @nefelibatansoul @divinemoonlight31
#Bucky Barnes#Bucky#Kinktober#Kinktober 2023#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes kinktober#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes smut#marvel smut#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes imagine#mob bucky barnes#mafia bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mafia Bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel kinktober#em writes
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Fast Cars on the Island - Oscar Piastri x LoveIslandContestant! Reader Part 1
Plot: Your an engineer for Mclaren and you were asked as a PR stunt to go onto Love Island. You would keep your job of course but Mclaren wanted some more media traction.
A/N: I know they would never do this, and that's why its fiction!
You'd basically been an intern during your placement year at McLaren as an engineering university student. They then kept you on as an employee to work with them while you completed your final year of university.
That was in 2023, it was now 2025 and you were 23 years old and had worked for McLaren for the last few years.
In recent years PR for the teams was all getting the same. They made the funny and treading tiktoks, they did the 0.5 pics, and they made the memes which never got old. But all the teams were looking for something new... something refreshing. So when the team came forward with the idea for someone to go on Love Island, Zac Brown hated the idea.
He thought it was ridiculous.
It was ridiculous.
But after some thought of how Lando and Oscar, the stellar boys of his team... young and energetic brought like likeability and youth too McLaren that everyone loved. He then realized that this would give someone in McLaren a larger platform to open up too and show the ins and outs of McLaren and it would gain way more viewers from a different group of people.
So once the car for 2025 had been created he went through a long list of all the potential candidates he'd ask to apply. Maybe he could even see if he could sway ITV in anyway.
Obviously he looked at the social media girls and then any of the mechanics that they could let loose for the potential of 10 weeks. But the one that struck him the most was you. Y/N Y/L/N.
You were the perfect candidate, you were an engineer and travelled with McLaren from race to race working on the car's performance and helping the strategists when it came to optimizing car performance with driver ability.
So that's why you were currently sat in the ITV studio doing your little interview for your introduction.
You were a little gutted they told you they wanted you in on this project as you had a massive crush on driver number 81 Oscar Piastri and you knew both him and Lando would be watching you.
The Love Island Intro:
"My love life is non-apparent I think I've had a closer relationship with my car than a man!" you joked halfway through the interview when they'd asked you about your love-life.
"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I'm 23 years old from London! I work for a Formula 1 Team, McLaren Racing as an Engineer" you smile looking at the camera shuffling on your seat a little bit adjusting you dress.
"The lights a really bright in this studio I think my makeup's running!" you say as a makeup technician comes out fixing your under eye a little.
"I think my last relationship was my first year of University and it lasted for about a year" you answer with a thoughtful look up.
"I think he got fed up with me! At that point i was very career focused and I still am." you answer the prompted 'and why was that' question asked to you.
"I'm not fussy when it comes to looks, but I tend to go for sporty guys that are taller than me and treat me well! My dad always told me, find yourself a man that will treat you how they treat their Vintage Pontaic and I've lived by that ever since!" you admit with a little laugh.
"Where I work in such a fast paced and big industry I'm very much a socialite and people person so i can imagine I'll make friends quickly in the villa" you answer again the question they asked you.
Walking into the Villa:
You step into the Villa, you of course were wearing a Papaya Bikini with a matching coverup in the form of a cardigan but sheer.
You walk through thanking the driver before walking into the villa looking around in awe.
Maybe it wasn't the worst thing spending your entire summer here. The only thing was you were gutted you wouldn't be updated on how your team was doing at any point! This year the villa was in Greece, it had been completely reformed with the pool being more like the one from season 1 where it had the beach sort of style to it.
You round the corner seeing two gorgeous girls sipping on champagne.
"Oh, look its another girl!!! OMG HEY!!!!" the first girl shouts beckoning you over.
"Hey!" you exclaim walking over as quickly as you could in the heels you were wearing.
The first girl pulls you into a hug kissing either one of your cheeks while gripping both your arms, she was pretty tall as well around 5'11, whereas you were around 5'7 in the heels you were sporting.
The next girl hands you a drink before kissing your cheek.
"So girl! What's your name, how old are you?" the first girl asks.
"Y/N! And I'm 23! What's your names?" you ask politely before taking a sip of your champagne.
"I'm Millie, and this is Auriela!" she smiles pointing to the other girl.
Seconds later another female enters the Villa with a shrilly sort of shriek, looking around at the place.
"Omggggggg! Heyy girls whats going on!" she says in a strong Scottish Accent.
Your then introduced to Zavi before you all get chatting about what you like in boys.
Oscar and Lando's Reaction:
"Damn, who knew she looked like that under team gear!" Lando compliments shamelessly checking her out as they slow-mowed her walk out on screen before showing her intro video.
"Yeah, she's pretty" Oscar says quietly while respectfully looking her over.
Oscar had a crush on you from when he was a reserve driver for Alpine and he saw you on work experience in McLaren from the end of the 2022 season and before he joined all the way through till the September of 2023. You then were in the MTC a lot between Uni, so he saw you a lot during the winter break before you were off for your finals.
You rejoined McLaren in May of 2024 for the Monaco GP where you cam with revolutionary upgrades for Zac Brown to oversee.
And you'd been with them ever since, always in Oscar's mind as the pretty engineer who not only made his cars race fast but made his heart race just as fast too.
He watched as she said she liked sporty guys, maybe he had a chance if she didn't fall in love while in there.
"That other girls pretty fit! Mille is that her name?" Lando comments but it goes straight over Oscar's head where he's so honed in on you.
Meeting the Boys:
The presenter had you all stood in the pool, and she explained how she was about to bring the boys out one by one.
"Okay first boy. Please come out and introduce yourself!"
"Hey ladies, all looking beautiful today, my name is Jai I'm 25 and I'm a training Surgeon!" he smiles holding both hands together as he looks at all of you.
"Okay ladies, step forward if you like the look of Jai!" she says and both Millie and Zavi step forward. You don't step forward as you can imagine he's pretty busy as a doctor and your schedules would clash too much.
"Oh woah, you've got too girls that have stepped forward for you Jai, what are your first thought, we feeling good?" she asks and he nods.
"Yeah, I mean they are both gorgeous ladies!"
"Okay lets find out more. Zavi, why did you step forward?" the presenter asks and she smiles.
"We're both doctors, so i think we'd make a pretty good match, we'd have lots to talk about. Yeah and your very handsome!" she says shyly and the presenter nods.
"Awesome and Y/N you didn't step forward, just keeping you options open?" she asks and you shake your head.
"You of course are very attractive and seem like a really funny and kind guy, but I travel a lot for work and I think with you being a doctor our schedules would result in a major clash unfortunately!" you explain, with a guilty look.
He nods in understanding before he goes and stands next to Zavi in her white bathing suit.
"Our first couple, Jai and Zavi!" she says and you all clap as Jai walks next to her placing a quick kiss on her cheek.
"Okay, our second boy everyone say hello to Chris!" she introduces and another man comes walking through the double glass doors.
"Hey, I'm Chris I'm 22 and I'm a Celebrity Hairdresser" he smiles waving shyly before tucking his arms behind his back.
"Okay girls you know what to do!"
This time only Auriela steps forward. You stay in your position along with Millie.
"Okay, so Auriela has stepped forward for you Chris! Aurelia why did you step forward!" she asks and Auriela laughs.
"Holy hell have you seen him? Hi I'm Aurelia" she smiles playfully at him, he looks down a small blush on his cheeks.
"Millie, you didn't step forward this time. Any reason?" she asks.
"Little disheartened after Jai, but I'm sure my times coming. Just not with Chris, sorry my ex is a hairdresser!" she laughs off her reasoning before he ends up choosing Aurelia.
"Our second couple Chris and Aurelia!"
"Okay, Boy 3 please make yourself known!" she exclaims and another very handsome man comes strolling out. He immediately sends a wink your guys' way and pulls the presenter in to kiss her cheek in a friendly manner.
"Hi, my names Daniel, I'm 25 and I'm a footballer" he smiles crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Okay, ladies please step forward if you like the look of Daniel" the presenter smiles. You, Millie and Aurelia all step forward.
"Sorry" Aureila says turning round to look at Chris.
"Woah, that's the most we've had step forward! And this is in fact that first time we've had Y/N step forward" the presenter says and he looks between you and Millie trying to determine who it was.
"The one in Orange!" she exclaims and he looks at you, small smirk on his face.
"Hello beautiful" he compliments and you smile at him.
Eventually after she asks Millie who pleads her case heavily, he goes with her. You step back a little sadly and he looks over to you in apology but you just nod with a smile understanding his choice.
"Okay our next couple Millie and Daniel!" she says and you all clap happily.
"Okay boy number 4 please step out and make yourself known" the presenter asks again.
"Hiya, all looking really beautiful ladies. I'm Aaron I'm 26 and I'm a freelance photographer" he introduces before making a little side joke.
You, and Zavi step forward.
"So you've got Y/N who only stepped forward for one other boy stepping forward for you in Orange and isn't currently coupled up. Then you've got Zavi's who currently with Jai" she explains and he nods.
"But of course you can choose any girl even if she's not coupled up! Y/N why did you step forward?" she asks looking at you.
"You are very handsome obviously, has that sky book guy vibe about him. But I think your photography career would go wild if you came travelling with me for my job!" you smile looking at him.
She asks Zavi why she changed her mind from Jai giving a generic answer about keeping her options open before she questions Millie and why she didn't step forward.
"Aaron, please go stand next to the girl you'd like to couple up with" the presenter says and he walks standing next to you. He places a kiss on your cheek.
"You look stunning by the way" he smiles looking down at you making you blush and elbow him to shut up. So you could see what the presenter was about to say.
"Now, all of you are happily coupled up, we have Y/N and Aaron, we have Millie and Daniel, Aureila and Chris and Zavi and Jai. However, please say hello to our final male contestant Charlie" she says and a blonde guy walks out full of confidence.
"ÂŁ10 that he's out by week 2" you whisper to Aaron making him snicker a little before covering it up with a cough.
"Hi ladies, I'm Charlie I'm 28 and I'm a Physician" he smiles.
"Okay, so obviously all these ladies are currently coupled up, however you are able to choose any of them and break the couple they are currently in!" the presenter exclaims.
"Oooooof the whole lot!" he says flicking his hand looking over all of you.
"I'm going to make it easier for you and ask if the girls like the look of you for them to step forward. Please do so ladies on the count of three" she says and counts to 3.
When no-one steps forward he awkwardly shuffles.
"Come on ladies lets not be shy" he laughs, until the presenter deems no-one to step forward.
"Okay, I'll go with her in the Orange Bikini" he says pointing at you. You look away from Aaron in shock.
"Okay, Aaron please come stand here with me and Charlie please go stand next to Y/N" she says and you keep your eyes on Aaron as he walks away. He gives a nod to you and you nod back.
An understanding.
"Okay, these are our current couples, no more couplings will happen today!" she exclaims before she explains that you have time to explore the villa and get to know each other.
Oscar and Lando Reaction:
"Okay, no I understand that, good for her" Lando says shoving some plain popcorn into his mouth as he watched Y/N not step forward for Jai.
"I bet Y/N would step forward for me" Lando says as she rejects the second guy to come out Chris.
"Do you recon she'd step out for me?" Oscar asks looking over to his friend.
"Yeah mate. Your a catch. I even heard her say to Emma, the girl in marketing once that her fav accent is aussie!" Lando admits eyes glued to the screen as she steps forward for Daniel.
"She does!" Oscar exclaims looking at Lando making his pause the TV.
"Yeah, mate. Now lets watch coz this may be the future Mr Y/N in the paddock!" Lando says gesturing to the TV.
"Nah, that's foul. How you out there rejecting my girl Y/N Y/LN!" Lando screams at the TV in horror that Daniel had just gone with Millie.
They watch as the next guy walks out and Lando and Oscar raise eyebrows. It was a brown haired, brown eyed guy that did the beluga smile as he came out.
"She's so stepping forward for him!" Lando says pointing at Aaron.
"I'm already putting my money on them as winners" he comments again. And she does in fact step forward. He of course chooses her, no seconds thoughts needed. They watch as he compliments her and kisses her cheek.
"Dude, she defo had school girl crushes on us!" Lando admits seeing the similar attributes and mannerisms the mail had to the McLaren driver duo.
They wait until they see Charlie walking in.
âNah man, he keeps eyeing her up! Heâs gonna take her away from Aaron!â Lando explains, but Oscar is just unhappy that sheâs coupled up with anyone in general.
He should have admitted to her ages ago that he was madly in love with her.
They then watched on as the girls all parted ways walking into the bedroom and makeup area where all their clothes were in the wardrobes with their names on!
The boys all sat around the campfire talking to each other. Not fully getting to know each other wanting to save that for dinner later on.
But Oscar didnât know how much longer he could watch this if you were going to be flirting with people the whole time.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#oscar piastri series#oscar piastri angst#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#op81#op81 fluff#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fic#op81 x you#op81 angst
547 notes
·
View notes
Text
Timeless Vows: The Life We Build Together-Lando Norris
áŠ
Part 2 of Whispers of Forever? Mature content
áŠ
The honeymoon was everything they had dreamed ofâan escape to a private island where time seemed to stand still. Lando and his wife were far from the demands of the racetrack and the world that so often pulled them apart. Here, it was just the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of each otherâs company, lost in the joy of finally being husband and wife.
The days stretched out lazily before them, each one beginning with the soft sound of waves crashing gently onto the shore. The first few mornings, Lando would wake before her, propping himself up on one elbow just to watch her sleep. Her face, peaceful and relaxed, was bathed in the early morning light. It was a sight he knew heâd never tire of. The simplicity of itâthe fact that she was his now, that this was his lifeâmade his chest tighten with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.
On their first morning, they stayed in bed longer than planned, enjoying the soft sheets and each otherâs company. Eventually, though, the pull of the ocean called them. Lando grabbed her hand, leading her down to the water, their laughter echoing off the sand as they playfully splashed each other. The saltwater was cool against their skin, refreshing and revitalizing, a perfect contrast to the sunâs warm rays.
In the afternoons, they would explore hidden coves and trails, hand in hand, often walking in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the peace that came with being together. They found tiny cafes where they shared local dishes, laughing when they mispronounced the names of the exotic foods. And at night, they would return to their villa, slipping into the warm embrace of a shared meal on their terrace, the sound of the ocean providing a soothing backdrop to their whispered conversations.
The honeymoon wasnât just a time to relaxâit was a time to fully embrace the beginning of their life together. The intimacy they shared went beyond physical; it was the emotional connection that deepened each day. They talked about their future, about the little house they wanted to find when they returned home, about what their lives would look like when they werenât on an island retreat. Lando would run his fingers through her hair as they spoke, the gesture simple but intimate, his way of grounding himself in the reality of their new life together.
One night, under the stars, he pulled her close as they lay on the beach, wrapped in a blanket. The sky was a clear expanse above them, stars twinkling brightly in a way they never did back home. His voice was low, full of love and a touch of disbelief. âYou know, sometimes it still feels like a dream,â he murmured, his fingers tracing small patterns on her arm. âLike Iâm going to wake up and realize none of this is real.â
She smiled, turning her head to look at him. âItâs real,â she whispered, her voice soft but sure. âWeâre here. Together.â
He shifted, turning so that he was facing her, his eyes searching hers as if trying to commit every detail to memory. âI donât think Iâve ever been this happy,â he admitted quietly. âBeing with youâitâs like everything finally makes sense.â
Her heart swelled at his words, and she leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his. âI feel the same way,â she whispered. âThis is our life now, Lando. And itâs everything I ever wanted.â
Landoâs body pressed firmly against hers, the warmth of his skin enveloping her as his hands held her thighs in a tight, possessive grip. Each movement was slow and purposeful, his hips rolling with a rhythm that teased and tortured, keeping her suspended on the edge of pleasure. The intimacy between them was electric, a quiet tension simmering beneath the surface as he set a deliberate pace, savoring every second.
âWant me to come inside you, Mrs. Norris?â His voice was a low, teasing whisper, sending a shiver through her. The way he said her new name, full of heat and affection, made her heart race, his words sinking deep into her core. His hips slowed even more, torturing her with each measured thrust, leaving her breathless and aching for release.
âDo you want me to fill you up, baby? On our honeymoon?â he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, the words making her body tighten around him. His lips grazed her skin, sending jolts of pleasure through her as he continued to move, each thrust sending a new wave of desire flooding through her body.
The air was thick with the quiet sounds of their mingled breaths and the soft creak of the bed beneath them. His touch was unyielding, grounding her in the moment, while the heat of his chest pressed against hers sent waves of sensation through every inch of her body. Each caress, every shift of his weight, heightened the anticipation building between them, a slow burn that spread like wildfire.
She nodded, unable to find words, but he wasnât satisfied with that. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear again as he repeated, âYou want it, donât you? Tell me.â His voice was a deep, sensual growl, and her body reacted immediately, her breath hitching as she struggled to answer.
âYes,â she finally managed to gasp, her body trembling beneath him, âI want it, Lando.â
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he locked eyes with her. âGood girl,â he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. His grip tightened on her thighs, and his pace quickened, each thrust more purposeful, driving her closer to the edge. âIâd fill you up every chance I got,â he growled, his forehead pressed against hers, eyes locked on her. âMake sure youâre full of me.â
She gasped at his words, her body responding instinctively to the deep timbre of his voice. âYouâd love that, wouldnât you?â he groaned, his hand gripping her thigh tightly. âYouâre perfect for me, so perfect, giving me everything.â
The intensity between them built to a fever pitch, the world outside fading away until there was nothing left but the feel of him, the sound of his voice, and the shared rhythm of their bodies moving in unison. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, the unspoken promise of forever hung between them, sealing the bond that had been deepened by this night.
Landoâs pace quickened, his movements more urgent as his body pressed harder against hers, the weight of him grounding her while her pleasure spiraled out of control. His words still echoed in her mind, a seductive mantra that pushed her further, her breath catching with every deep thrust. His eyes never left hers, dark and intent, as if he needed to see every reaction his touch drew from her.
His grip on her thighs tightened once more, possessive and unrelenting, as he angled himself deeper inside her, sending sparks of sensation through her core. The intensity of the moment was overwhelmingâhis skin against hers, the heat of his breath on her neck, the soft growls of pleasure that rumbled from his throat. Each one drove her closer, heightening the tension between them until she was teetering on the edge of release, clinging to him as the sensations overwhelmed her.
âYouâre mine,â he rasped, the words a deep growl in her ear as his hips snapped forward again, harder this time, the force of it leaving her breathless. The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill down her spine, her body tightening around him in response. He felt it too, a low groan escaping his lips as his forehead pressed against hers, sweat-slicked skin sliding together.
The air in the room felt electric, charged with the heat and passion of the moment, their bodies moving together in perfect sync. The pressure inside her was mounting, the coiled tension in her body about to snap. Lando could feel it tooâhis grip on her hips tightened as he pushed her closer and closer, determined to send her over the edge before he let go.
She arched into him, her fingers curling into his back, nails digging into his skin as she finally broke, a breathless moan spilling from her lips as her release crashed over her in waves. The sensation was overwhelming, her body pulsing around him as pleasure rolled through her, leaving her gasping for air.
Landoâs hips stuttered, his pace faltering as he followed her over the edge. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling as he buried himself inside her with a final, deep thrust. A low growl vibrated through his chest as his release hit, and his grip on her tightened even further, his body locking with hers as he filled her.
For a moment, the world stoppedâthere was nothing but the sound of their mingled breaths, the steady thud of his heartbeat against her chest, and the lingering heat of their bodies tangled together. His forehead rested against hers as they both came down from the high, the intensity of the moment fading into a quiet, intimate stillness.
His lips brushed hers, soft and tender now, a stark contrast to the fervor from before. The connection between them felt even stronger, deepened by the night, the weight of it settling over them both like a quiet promise. She was his, and he was hers. This was just the beginning.
The honeymoon passed too quickly, and soon, they were back home, stepping into the rhythm of daily life. But even in the midst of their busy schedules, there was a newness to everything. They had crossed a threshold, and the weight of their commitmentâof being husband and wifeâbrought a deeper sense of meaning to even the smallest moments.
Because thatâs what it all came down to: the quiet certainty that whatever came next, they would face it together, bound by the love they had discovered, held tight by the vows they had spoken, and grounded in the unbreakable bond they had forged on a secluded island under the stars.
đŻđđ§âĄ
#lando norris#lando norris x y/n#lando norris oneshot#lando norris fluff#lando norris blurb#lando norris fic#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando norris x reader smut#lando norris smut
177 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)
All Chapters List
Chapter 10: The Conflict (+18 - MDNI - Smut)
ânon est vivere sed valere vita est.â
Life is more than just being alive.
The distance from the city to the port of Ostia was not great, but the ride was rather lengthy and tiring, even for a seasoned rider. Octavius was ever watchful, noting when you were faltering and offering you a respite. You declined, though your body was crying out for it. Your sole concern was to reach Marcus before it was too late. Fortunately, a little later, Octavius noticed a few tracks on the ground as you passed through the dark woods, slowed down and dismounted his horse. He crouched down and examined the tracks then looked at you.
"We should continue on foot from this point onwards, my lady."
"Are we close?" You looked around but there was nothing in sight.
"Indeed. We must proceed with caution and avoid attracting attention. We need to leave the horses here," he said, holding the reins of his horse as he approached you and extended his hand.
"Thank you sir but I can dismount myself." You said and got down from your horse, despite the soreness in your legs. It felt nice to be able to step on the ground again. Unio let out a soft neigh, as if she had read your thoughts. You stroked her face and, grasping her reins, walked in the direction Octavius had said. It was quite some distance from the road and not very visible. In this darkness of the night, it would have been difficult to see anything if not for the moonlight anyway.
Once you had tied your horses, you set off through the forest, guided by Octavius. You eventually reached a hill. It appeared to be a rather tranquil. The only sound that could be heard was the hooting of an owl.
âMy lady, if I might ask you to consider promising me something,â Octavius said.
You raised your eyebrows. âWhat is it?â
"If we don't make it in time, you'll come back to the villa with me."
âNo need to worry about that now, if we make it in time, Sir Octavius.â
He sighed. âI'm pretty sure Acacius will kill me this time,â he muttered.
You looked at him with a hint of guilt. âI'm sorry, but you're doing this for him, for your General, your friend.â
"I hope he's already taken care of him and I hope we've came here for nothing. I'd be really happy to be reprimanded and even punched by him."
You laughed nervously. "Would it offend you if I said I hope so too, sir?"
He grinned. "Never, my lady."
"You are a good friend, Octavius.
"Always at your service.â
You were startled by the sound of a horse neighing and immediately sought cover behind nearby bushes. You observed that three horses were tethered in the forest.
"That's Dromos," you realized.
"We must be close," Octavius said quietly.
You soon heard the sound of swords clashing in the distance and moved at a slow pace towards it. When you saw Marcus from behind, you were on the verge of running to him without thinking, but Octavius grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you back.
âWe can't let them see us,â he said, warning you.
He led you to move out of sight to the left, where you hid in the bushes. You observed the situation at a distance and noticed that Marcus cut a soldier with his sword made him collapsed to the ground. However he was alone, probably having lost his men. Macrinus, on the other hand, was standing just behind the five soldiers.
âGeneral, you must cease this nonsense. You'll get yourself killed.â
âNot before I take your life first!â
Your heart was racing with worry. Even for Marcus, who was one against five men, survival was a near impossibility. Octavius stepped in front of you as you stood up.
âMy lady, please wait here, I will back him up," he whispered, his hand moving to his sword.
Just then, you heard horse hooves and three horsemen appeared, coming towards them from ahead. Macrinus let out a laugh. Octavius swallowed and looked at his General, unsure of what to do.
At the time you thought you had to stop it somehow, knowing the fact that Marcus won't stand much of a chance. It seemed that he had no intention of retreating though. Furthermore, he assumed a defensive stance, grasping his sword more firmly.
You reached out to grasp Octavius' arm as he began to step towards them.
"I must stop them."
Octavius opened his eyes wide. "But how, my lady? No, return to your horse now, and-"
"No, please hear me out. I don't believe Macrinus will harm me. And Marcus won't let him go no matter what. Besides even with your help, you can't beat all of them. This is the only way.â
Octavius seemed unsure. "What makes you so sure that he won't harm you?â
âThink about it. He has known me for quite some time.â You observed them from behind the bushes. It seemed as though Marcus was contemplating an attack. âIf he wanted to kill me he would have done it when we were alone, but instead he made me appear before the council, why do you think?â
"To help you regain your title and gain formal recognition."
'Well, it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart, of course. I believe that when he ascends to the throne, he thinks it would be beneficial for him to have a strong consort that he values in his council." Your voice cracked.
Octavius clenched his jaw. âThere is no stronger consort than a princess,â he muttered. Then opened his eyes wide. âIf he kills the General-â he swallowed, words caught in his throat.
âI won't let that happen. So step aside and let me stop them.â
Octavius nodded in despair. "If things don't go well, I'll be here to ensure your safety and that of the General. I'll do my utmost until my last breath.â
You nodded and took a deep breath, moving slowly through the bushes. Just then all five men and the others drew their swords making a schwing sound echoing through the woods.
"General, this is my final warning. It is not possible for you to survive this." Macrinus called out to him.
Marcus was aware that, regardless of his considerable strength as a warrior, it would be extremely challenging to fight against such a large number of soldiers. But retreat was not an option for him. He had to take Macrinus down and make sure his head was severed from his body, no matter what. If he could do that, he didn't mind facing his own death in the end. He was only afraid of being separated from you; he had no other fears at all. He was truly grateful for all those beautiful moments he shared with you. Getting ready for a confrontation, he pointed his sword at the soldier charging towards him. Just as he was about to attack, you suddenly jumped in between them, yelling.
âStop!"
With determination, you swiftly drew your knife from its sheath on your ankle, holding it firmly in one hand as you prepared to execute your seemingly absurd plan. Marcus opened his eyes wide, looked at you in surprise, and then glanced around.
"Aurelia! What the hell are you doing here?" He yelled.
"My lady!" Macrinus was shocked too. Keeping his distance, moving towards you behind the soldiers, equally bewildered.
"End this, please." You said without looking at either of them.
"Go back, now!" Marcus shouted, knowing full well who had brought you here.
"I'm not going anywhere without you," you protested.
"I have to finish what I started. Now, go!â He hissed.
He brandished his sword at Macrinus's men once more, determined not to back down. You, however, had no intention of letting him get himself killed. With no other option, you put your knife against your neck. Marcus looked back at you, astounded. As your eyes met, Macrinus, as you had suspected, grew concerned and approached you.
âThat knife looks pretty dangerous, my lady. I think you should give that to me.â
âStay back!â You shouted at him, âDon't come any closer!â
âAre you mad? What do you think you're doing?â Marcus roared. He was boiling with anger.
"I'm a medicus, aren't I? I know exactly how and where I should cut to kill myself without suffering."
Marcus clenched his jaw.
"Do you wish to kill yourself, my lady?" Macrinus asked.
You looked at him, feeling the sharp surface of the knife, it made you tense but forced yourself to stay calm. Also, it seemed like a good opportunity to see if your theory was correct.
âYou don't want me to die, do you, Sir Macrinus?â
He raised his hand as if he wants to stop you. âNo, of course not, my lady. Please put that knife down.â He looked at Marcus. âAcacius, I think we're done here.â
Marcus looked at him with a piercing gaze. âThis isn't over, Macrinus.â
He laughed, then his gaze hardened as he looked at him. âYou'd better be on the right side when the inevitable happens, General, if you care enough for your wife.â
âIf not today, rest assured that I will end you.â Marcus growled.
âIt would only be to your detriment,â he said, his eyes shifting to you before he nodded and turned. He tapped one of his soldiers on the shoulder. âSheath your swords! We're heading for the harbour!â He jumped on his horse and the soldiers followed him behind.
Marcus turned his head towards you and came up to you angrily, snatching your knife and pulling so hard that you stumbled towards him.
"Why did you come here? How dare you hold a knife to your throat?" he barked. His voice was loud enough to make you startle. "I didn't give you this to cut yourself! Don't you value your own life at all?"
"You're the one who doesn't value your own life!" You shouted back. Marcus frowned. "What's the matter with you? Do you think it's worth risking your life trying to kill him? You know how it feels when you lose someone you care about. How can you be so selfish? Have you ever thought about what I'd do if you died? You're so mean.â
As your tears rolled down your cheeks, Marcus' expression softened. He approached you, took your face in his hands and gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs. His dark brown eyes spoke volumes, but he was so angry that he remained silent. After staring at you for a while, he pulled his hands back and looked towards the bushes.
"Octavius! I know you're in there, get over here now!"
The bushes rustled and crunched loudly. As soon as Octavius set foot on the dirt road, you noticed the tension on his face despite the darkness. He came up to you and bowed his head to the General. Marcus gripped him by his leather armour in his fist and pulled roughly.
âSince when have you begun to disobey my orders?â
âForgive me, sir. I was wrong.â
âI forced him, Marcus,â you interjected.
He ignored you. âI told you to protect her, you shouldn't have cared about what she said to you. You should have stopped her, Even if it meant locking her up or tying her up, it would have been better to do so.â
You laughed hysterically. âYou can't be serious.â
He turned towards you. âI'm quite serious, my lady. Instead of risking your life in such a ridiculous way, you would be safe."
You rolled your eyes. "I wasn't really intending to kill myself. I just wanted to be sure of Macrinus' intentions, but you were so determined to sacrifice yourself without listening to me, so I didn't know what else I could do.â
âWe'll talk about it when we return home,â he said, pointing his index finger at you. Then he turned and approached his soldiers lying lifeless on the ground, sorrow evident in his eyes. âOctavius, make sure the funeral rituals for our brothers shall be arranged.â
âYes, sir.â He approached him, kneeling next to a soldier and closing his eyelids.
From a distance, you watched them and found yourself blaming yourself. Perhaps if you had arrived sooner, you could have played a role in saving their lives. Or, if you had come later, Marcus might have faced a similar fate. You shook your head and tried to put these thoughts out of your mind.
While Octavius tended to the deceased soldiers, you and Marcus returned to the villa on horseback. It was just after midnight. The vast majority of the villa's residents were awake and gathered in the courtyard, awaiting your return. Marcus remained silent all the way back, likely still enraged at you. You were no different. It was torture to think that you had nearly lost him because of Macrinus.
Cato respectfully took hold of the reins of Marcus' horse as he jumped down. You dismounted too, noting that your legs felt a little sore from the long ride. As soon as you landed on the ground, you felt a momentary loss of balance, but Marcus' arm caught you. You smiled at him. Even though he was angry; he was still there to protect you. However, he did not smile back. Instead, he took hold of your wrist and pulled you towards the courtyard. Furthermore, he was not as gentle as he usually was. He did not care when you moaned from the pain in your wrist. He took a quick glance at everyone in the courtyard who greeted you and pulled you towards the stairs. When you turned your head, you saw their faces. They seemed grateful for the safe return of their Dominus, but perhaps a little worried about you. At least, that was your interpretation, because you knew you were in trouble.
He shut the door behind you. You were glad when he released your wrist, as it started to throb. You knew it would be bruised by the next day. Marcus put his holster away while you rubbed your wrist with your other hand. You went over to help him remove his armour. He was aware of your intentions and leaned against the edge of his desk with his arms folded. There was blood splattered on the Medusa's face and on the leather strips of the armour. You gave Marcus a direct look as you undid the armour's threads. He was still frowning and staring ahead. He still seemed to refuse to look at you as you undid the other side.
âYou know you're not the only one who's angry, right?â
He then turned his head to you as your fingers unraveled the threads a little harder.
âYou can't be any angrier than I am.â He took off his armour.
You crossed your arms, âWhy not, I can be just as angry as you.â You lifted your head and looked away stubbornly.
Marcus was trying not to laugh at your behaviour. He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat.
âNo way, princess. I'm more than angry; I'm fuming!â
You looked at him as he walked towards you. His gaze certainly showed his anger, but when you noticed the hint of mischief at the corner of his lips, you decided to continue playing this game. He was removing his armbands.
âFuming? Hah! I'm furious!â you shouted sarcastically.
He threw the armbands on the floor and came right in front of you. This time his gaze was intense.
âI'm filled with wrath!â he growled.
You involuntarily took a step backwards. âSo?âÂ
He appeared to be relishing the opportunity to engage in this somewhat heated, sexual tension-filled game, as he took a few steps towards you.
Suddenly, your back slammed on the wall. He lifted your wrists above your head and leaned in.
"I think you deserve some punishment," he murmured, his breath caressing your ears and causing your body to shudder. He pressed his pelvis against yours and his lips found the vein on your neck. He sucked and nibbled at it, sending a tingling sensation throughout your body. His lips trailed from your neck to your chin, and you found yourself longing to touch them.
You took a sharp intake of breath. He teased your lips with a slight touch before retreating. You leaned forward, aiming for his lips, but you failed. He smirked. His right hand roughly removes your cloak and undresses you, while his left hand keeps a strong hold on your wrists. Your dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet as the hem caught on the scabbard tied around your ankle. Marcus bent down, untied it and pulled it off. Suddenly, he grabbed you by the legs and threw you over his shoulder. Before you could blink, you were on the bed, gasping for breath. Your stomach tightened with excitement when he emerged from above you.
But he still hadn't taken off his tunic, you thought angrily.
It seemed a bit unfair that you were the only one who was naked. He pushed you back gently when you reached towards him. "Not yet, princess." His hot breath hit your breasts, making you squirm. You were infuriated when he roughly spread your legs with the palm of his hand. Was he going to enter you before your lips met and traveled over each other's body, before his hands caressed your breasts? That's what he called punishment?
You bit your lower lip as you felt his strong fingers on your most sensitive spot. But his fingers lingered, moving in circles. You wanted to sit up and look at him, but he pushed you backwards with his other hand. After teasing your clit with his fingers, which made you clench the sheet, he grabbed your hips and buried his head between your legs. He deliberately blows into your folds, making pleasure run through your body. His erection sears your skin, making you aware that he's getting pleasure from driving you mad with his mouth. He flips his tongue and sucks your most sensitive area hungrily, relentlessly. You moan loudly and your response encourages him to increase the pressure. He is an expert in the art of pleasure giving and he uses you as skilfully as he uses his sword.
âMarcus,â you groaned, you're almost sure that your voice echoing in every corner of the villa. Feeling almost at the edge. You feel him smiling as he moves his lips and touches your body with his warm tongue and fingers. But he retreats suddenly. You moan in protest. You open your eyes to look at him. Panting. You feel a surge of disappointment and a distinct sense of being used. But he laughs cruelly. He wipes your sweet liquid from his lips with his thumb, then licks and sucks the tip, smiling crookedly all the while.
You frown. âSo that was your punishment?â
âI was actually going to do more, butâŠ" He quickly takes off his tunic, throwing it on the floor. âI missed you so much and I want you so badly right now.â
âTake me then.â You smiled naughtily.
He smiles back and grabs your arm, using his soldier strength, he turns you and bends you over until you're crouching on your knees. One of his hands is still holding yours behind your back, and the other keeps your torso down so your breasts press against the silk sheet. You wriggle, and his grip tightens. Gods! You havenât ever felt so helpless. Used like a toy. He keeps teasing your lower wet lips with the tip of his erection. His voice is husky, sensual. âHow will I take you, my sweet princess?â
He digs his fingers deep into the cheeks of your butt. This position feels raw, animalistic but pleasantly erotic at the same time. âShall I take you this way?â he asks without stopping his hungry attack. His warm breath, and beard tickles your ear, and waves of hot pleasure wash through your skin. As though your body is a toy, he forcibly turns you again, and now your under him once more. One hand holds you immobile by your throat. The other grabs your hip. "Or this way?" he says as his now-soaked tip presses against your entrance, bringing shudders and ecstasy into your squirming body. You moan loudly, pressing his lips to yours roughly, silencing you.
Heâs taken full control of your body and wonât share it with you. Heâll take you in any way he wants. And, yet, because your body is yearning for him, you canât bring yourself to ask him to stop, this was a huge turn-on for you. "Marcus," you whimpered. "Please, I want to be yours. Take me now. Pretty, pretty, please." You begged.
He smiled and let you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you. He was as impatient as you were, but he was determined to keep this fun and heated game going. He was having fun rubbing his lips against yours and making you whimper a little more. For him, there was no comparison to watching you squirm to be his. But he couldn't wait to be inside you, and when he finally pushed his length inside your walls, entered you roughly, your body trembled with pleasure. You felt euphoric when his mouth finally met yours. You enjoy him kissing you with incredible hunger until you forget to breathe. With each rough thrust, you instinctively dug your fingers into his back which made him lose it, deepening the kiss, turning it into a carnal mating of mouths. He bit your lower lip, and you moaned with both pain and pleasure. He released his bruising grip, the hard press of his lips, and rolled onto his back, taking you with him. He seems a little worried, but when you giggle at him, he grins and buries his head between your breasts, licking your sternum all the way to your neck. He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, your back hitting his chest. He kisses your shoulder, nuzzles his nose into your hair and finds your ear.
âI want to take you this way.â His hot breath hits your ear as he caresses his way up your neck, making you shiver.
He practically has to arrange your limbs himself as he folds you forward onto your hands and knees and settles behind you. He wrapped his arms around your torso, entering you from behind, and you moved together, as one, never once breaking your intimate connection. When he increased his rhythm, one hand gathered your hair on one side of your neck. His lips traveled from your neck to your exposed shoulder, while his other hand wrapped around your waist. This position made you feel his length much deeper inside you. Your mewl-like moans were added to his and harmonized with the slick sound of each thrust. it sounded like your own special music. Marcus' hands slid under your arms to your breasts and cupped them. You threw your head back in pleasure, bumping into his shoulder as he kissed your neck repeatedly. With his forehead and brows covered in sweat, he sensed that the end was near and his hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and reaching his climax at the same time as you. You instinctively leaned forward as he filled you with his warm liquid, but he caught you and wrapped his arms around you tightly. He groaned loudly and his hot breath washed over your ear. You felt his nose on your cheekbone. His hand cupped your chin, turned your face to his and kissed you passionately. As you wrapped your arms around his neck and turned towards him, he pulled out of you and pressed his forehead to yours, both of you panting. Your eyes were closed, savouring the moment as the sweat mingled on your forehead and ran down your cheeks. You opened your eyes as Marcus placed a kiss on the tip of your nose.
He brushed back a few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead, also caught in your eyelashes. You looked into his eyes and looked at him.You spoke with your eyes for a while, then he frowned. He took your face in his hands, his expression serious. You were unaware that you were crying until his thumbs wiped away your tears from your cheeks. He bent his head and kissed your eyelids and long eyelashes. You nuzzled your head into his neck and he wrapped his arms around you. You couldn't stop your sobs and tears. All the emotions you felt seemed to take over your body at once.
His fingers ran through your hair. âMy love. From now on, I won't risk my life easily,â he said in a velvety tone. âSo please don't cry.â
You nodded and sniffled. Marcus kissed the top of your head and pulled you down with him onto the bed. You snuggled into his chest, realising how much you missed him even though it had only been a few days. It was late at night and the only sound in the room was the two of you breathing.
âI guess this has become a habit for me,â Marcus broke the silence.
You raised your head and looked at him. You ran your eyes over the sparse beard on his chin, greying in places.
"I've always lived my life like this, always fighting, battling, killing. It's the easiest thing I can do." His fingers traced the curve of your spine. âI was never afraid, not of death, not of losing. I just fought. It was easy because I had nothing to lose. That night, when I was poisoned, I knew it was time for my eternal rest. I felt relieved, not afraid, but ready.â
You swallowed, thinking about that night for the first time in a long while.
"But then I saw those eyes and they gave me the purpose to carry on living." He tenderly touched your cheek with the back of his hand. You raised your head to meet his gaze. He was already looking at you.
âNow I have a responsibility,â he smiled. âMy weakness.â He bent his head and stroked yours with his nose. âA beautiful reason for me to die for.â His lips ran through your forehead. "Dying for Rome is easy, simple. But for you, my lady, it's hard, painful. The thought of never seeing you again.â He exhaled deeply. âIt puts me in agony.â He frowned. âJust when I saw you put that knife to your neck so recklessly. It was painful too. I'm still angry with you for that.â
You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him. "I feel the same way, Marcus. I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurts me to think of losing you. I couldn't sit idly by while you risk your life. I'd never be able to bear to lose you." Even the thought of it made you shudder.
He sighed and turned his head towards you. âYou won't lose me. There is nothing more important to me in this life than you. How whole and at peace I feel when I hold you in my arms when I'm deep inside you. The reason is you, princess. The reason I wake up every morning with a smile. The reason I am eager to return home from my duties. To you. So I don't want you to do one more thing to put yourself in danger.â
You kissed his chest. You wanted to say more but his words were so beautiful, you couldn't object. You felt tired from the horse journey so you snuggled closer to him. Before he wrapped his arm around you, he covered you both with the sheet. You were finally about to get the peaceful sleep you had been longing for for days. In his arms.
When you woke up in the morning, the sun was high in the sky, but it wasn't its light that woke you up. Instead, it was the gentle caresses you felt on your legs that roused you. Your hand moved to the side of the bed to feel the sheets, but Marcus wasn't there. You opened your eyes when the caresses on your legs were replaced by nibbles. Was he under the sheet? Your eyes opened wide when you saw Marcus's face, smirking at you from between your legs.
âMorning, princess.â His boyish and mischievous grin spread all over his face. âMay I?â
âWhat are you- Ow!â You gasped when you felt his tongue on your most sensitive area.
Expertly, he was licking, biting, sucking, giving you incredible pleasure this early in the morning. You had now discovered all the men inside his enormous body. The honourable man, the dominant leader, the fearless warrior, the poet, the loving husband, the romantic gentleman, the expert lover full of lust, the child inside the fourth year old man.
You smiled when the lustful expert lover has taken you to the sky full of pleasure. It's empowering to know that it was you who drove a powerful, dominating, strong beast like him mad. As you descend from the sky, he settles on top of you, placing kisses from your legs to your belly and then to your breasts and chin. He kisses your eyelids and asks you to look at him without telling you. Now that you know him so well, you immediately obey. Since you are already so ready for him, he enters you easily. He wraps his arms around you, you throw your hands back and clench the sheets. Your body curves backwards and he speeds up his thrusts. You try to suppress the urge to close your eyes tightly. He realises and finds a new solution for you and presses his forehead to yours. You smile when your eyelashes touch. But then, when he gets closer to the edge, also gets deeper into you and increases the pace tremendously, he buries his head in your collarbone. You wrap your arms tightly around his neck. And once again, you ascend to the sky. This time, you feel immense pleasure. You feel a few bites on your neck. You look at him, your eyes alight with wonder, and marvel at the beauty of the man that is coming undone inside you. He tightens his arms around your waist and moans as he reaches his climax. His body collapses on top of yours, his arms loosening. It's so beautiful to watch him as you feel his heated breath on your neck. To feel his heart thudding violently against his chest, the way your bodies connected. You both savour the glorious, euphoric feeling of being in love. Your breathing returns to ease, you feel him soften inside you and he lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms.
"Do you have any duties today?" you ask as you run your fingers over his chest.
"Yes, first I have to meet with my legates, then I have to go to the barracks. I believe there may be someone spying for Macrinus. It would be beneficial to find him before he returns to Rome."
"Didn't you say you'd already found him?"
"No, he was Julia's." His voice was sharp. You were sure he killed him. It must have been very hard for him though, a soldier from his own troops spying for someone else. After a moment or two of silence, you asked him to change the subject.
"Am I forgiven?"
âIâm thinking about it.â
You sat up in bed, intending to study his face, but suddenly a feeling of nausea hit you and you fell back. Your neck hit his shoulder.
âOhâŠ" You put your hand to your head. Your vision was blurred, closed your eyelids.
âMy love. Are you alright?" There was concern in his voice. He sat up in bed and wrapped his arms around you.
You opened your eyes and smiled at his worried face. âMy head is spinning a bit.â
âIt's almost noon. You've been sleeping for a while.â
âNoon?" You hadn't realised it had been that long. You were usually up early, woken by the rooster. Perhaps it was because you hadn't slept well for a few days without him. Maybe it was because you hadn't slept properly in his absence for days. "But did you wake up first and await me?"
"That is correct, but then I became somewhat impatient if you remember." he winked.
You smiled shyly. He graciously kissed the top of your head. âMy lady, I believe that you may be hungry, are you not?"
You yawned and nodded. âIndeed I am. I must admit that I am rather famished after my longest horse journey.â
He laughed. "I'll tell them to prepare a lunch for us. I must then take my leave.â
Once Marcus had departed from the villa, you wanted to check on the girls. Norell and Decima were sitting together in the courtyard, weaving rugs. You stood nearby, observing them. Decima was from Egypt, so she was used to weaving and her hands were moving with practiced ease. She mentioned about it before.
"My lady, would you care to try?" Decima asked.
"It looks very intricate," you hesitated.
Tullia came into the courtyard with a laundry basket. She made a slight gesture of respect with her head as she caught sight of you. You observed that she was walking with a slight limp. She seemed to be in pain.
âTullia, your leg seems to be bothering you."
She put the basket down and let out a sigh. âMy knees, my lady. I guess it's because I'm too old now.â
"Let me take a look," you said gently, walking over to her. Despite her objection, you helped her sit down in the chair and examined her knees. Given her late fifties age, you diagnosed her with rheumatism, given her late fifties age.
"I think I know what will be good for you," you said, walking to your private clinic-like room. Tullia's eyes widened when you returned with the hemlock jar.
âIsn't this herb poisonous?â
You smiled. âYes, and potentially deadly.â You teased her.
âGods, my lady, please forgive me if I've made a mistake.â She placed her hand on her chest.
âPlease calm yourself, Tullia. It is indeed a very poisonous plant. However, it is also very useful to the body. I'll make you a tea of this, you drink it every other day, understood?â"
She was still looking at you weirdly.
You laughed. âYou do trust me, do you not?â
She nodded. "I am grateful to you, my lady, for ensuring General's safe return to his home. So, I have great trust in you.â
You smiled. âI imagine you must have known him for quite some time.â
"That's correct. I've been fortunate to reside in this villa for as long as I can remember."
"I see. Then you knew Marcus's father, the Dominus'?"
"Yes, my lady.â
She had been with him for many years, residing in this villa. She had likely witnessed his childhood, his youth, his unhappy marriage, everything. You felt a bit envious of her, as though she knew more about him than you know about Marcus. But you were also grateful for her loyalty over the years.
âIt's the first time I've seen him alive,â she said, surprising you.
âHow do you mean?â You demanded.
"Dominus. He would prefer us not to call him that, not after his father. I must say that after you came into his life, I felt like I didn't know him. He was rather solemn, and it was rare to see him smile. But now I see that he's really alive. It's so pleasant to see him like that. I'm really grateful for that, my lady."
You put a hand on her shoulder. "And I'm grateful that you have cared for him over the years, that you have served him, that you have looked after him."
She put her hand on yours. "It is my duty," she said, smiling softly.
âDomina!"
You both turned your heads to the slave who came running towards you.
âMy Lady, the Imperial guard has arrived.â
You inhaled. "Am I being summoned?"
The slave looked at you with hesitation and bowed his head, which meant affirmative. Decima came to stand beside you. "Shall I come with you?"
You grasped her hand. âYes, please.â
It was your brother Geta who summoned you this time. You weren't particularly curious, but you felt it would be a good idea to pay him a visit. You couldn't help but feel a little concerned about him, though. Besides, it seemed like a good idea to stop by the poorhouse on the way back. You were keen to find out how the children are doing, since you missed them. By the time the imperial carriage arrived at Palatine Hill, it was already late afternoon. You came to realise that you didn't miss wearing stola much since it was difficult to get used to the feeling of being tangled in their feet. And the knife Marcus gave you wasn't helping at all. It seemed a little odd to wear it on your ankle when you couldn't actually use it properly, but you had promised him after all. Geta was waiting for you in the great courtyard. When he realised you, he came running to you with a wide smile, his arms outstretched.
"Aurelia, you've been missed, sister!" He embraced you. You flinch every time he does this, but he deliberately ignores it.
"I'm really curious to know why you called me here."
"Come, let's talk while we drink. Shall we?" He led you to an armchair in the courtyard. You sat down next to him, and adjusted your dress to cover the knife on your leg.
"Wine," Geta ordered the slaves.
One of the slaves poured you a glass of wine. Decima was standing right next to you.
"So, you ordered the guards to send food to the Poorhouse," Geta said, taking a sip of his wine.
You brought your glass to your lips, but the smell was unappealing, so you put it on the table, and pushed it forward with your fingers.
"I did. Or, are you angry with me for this?"
Geta laughed. "I can't possibly be angry with you. However, I believe this is an unnecessary expense."
You glared at him. "Surely it's not as unnecessary as a tiger?"
"At least the tiger entertains us, sister. What is so interesting about those people? Nothing. I have not yet informed Caracalla of this, so you'd better end it before he becomes aware of it."
You leaned towards him. "You are not fully aware of the gravity of the situation, so you speak with undue levity. Would you be willing to abandon those children to their fate?â
He exhaled loudly. He pretended not to care, but he was thinking.
"If you'd like, I can show you. Caracalla doesn't need to know. Trust me, it's a lot cheaper than what you spend on other unnecessary things.â
"No way I'm going there!"
You sighed and stood up. "You do as you wish," you said, with a hint of sarcasm. "I was just considering paying a visit there." You glanced at him, took a step forward. He stood up too, grabbing your arm from behind.
"You've only just arrived, stay a little longer." He sounded like he was begging. He was looking at you in a strange way, you averted your gaze.
"I'm a married woman, I have responsibilities. And those children are one of them." You looked at him again. "As Emperor, you have responsibilities as well. They are your people too. You could come with me and see for yourself. If you are not convinced, I will not bring it up again. I promise."
He thought for a moment, then nodded. âAlright, you win. I'm coming with you.â
He stepped towards to the entrance, but you stopped him by tugging on his arm. "Perhaps you might like to consider changing your attire?" You asked, running your eyes over his fancy toga.
"What's in my attire?" He looked down at himself.
"Well. Your bronze crown, your gold embroidered toga, your gold bracelets, necklaces, and rings, need I say more?â
"Or do you want me to dress like a commoner? Never!" He frowned.
You rolled your eyes at him. It was futile to try to persuade this stubborn boy. So, you gave up. "Very well, as you wish, Your Majesty.â
His frown vanished and he smirked.
As you made your way across the courtyard towards the gate, you became aware of a few murmurs and turned your head in that direction. A group of people were heading into the great hall. Their attire differed from that of the members of the Senate.
"I had completely forgotten they were coming today," he said.
'Is there an official meeting with Caracalla?'
âOur relatives,â he murmured.
You regarded him with a look of surprise. âYou were correct in your assumption,â he said, observing them from a distance. âThe execution of Gaius has caused some distress within the dynasty in Leptis Magna. They have come here to speak with the emperor.â
"And what about you? You are the emperor as well."
He shrugged slightly. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure he will make a decision similar to the one I would have made."
"Which is...?"
Geta's face suddenly became serious. Without answering, he pulled you towards the gates roughly. But you clearly heard the sounds of screaming and shouting coming from the hall. You felt a shiver run down your spine.
âDid he murder them?â Your voice cracked.
He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you into the carriage. "They killed themselves at the very moment they set foot in Rome, Aurelia.â
It seemed that Decima was attempting to sit next to you, but he indicated the seat opposite. He then sat right next to you. You couldn't focus on them staring at each other, the screams still echoing in your ears, and continued to torture you all the way. All this brutality felt so wrong.
When you arrived at the Poorhouse, the children noticed you and ran towards you with huge, beaming smiles on their faces, gathering around you with cheerful laughter.
âPrincess Aurelia!â
You smiled at them. They then looked curiously at your emperor brother, who was standing behind you. The guards approached Geta, looking a little wary. Geta covered his nose with his hand. With a somewhat displeased expression on his face he extended his arm towards them as if warning them.
âDon't you dare come near me!â He yelled.
âThey're just children,â you muttered.
âBut, they're filthy,â he grimaced.
You rolled your eyes and went over to the boy you had met earlier. It seemed that the mother and baby were doing better. You asked Decima to bring your bag and, as Medicus, you examined the woman and her breast milk, which was now coming in. Geta observed you as you treated a few wounded and sick people. He maintained his distance, of course. Since these people had only seen his face from a great distance before, their jaws were dropped open when he appeared before them in all his majesty.
The provisions have been brought as you requested. But it didn't seem to be enough to feed these people, yet they were happy and grateful.
"I should also provide some new clothes for them," you said, approaching Geta.
He folded his arms and looked them up and down. His expression had become somewhat more gentle, as though he was lost in thought. He seemed to be deeply affected by the unfortunate situation he had witnessed.
"You were right after all," he murmured. "They really do look rather poorly."
You looked at him. "Your Majesty, you have decided to extend a helping hand to these people?"
He locked eyes with you for a moment, his expression hard to decipher, but he seemed happy. Then he cleared his throat. "I would never allow them to pollute the streets of Rome." He turned to one of the guards. "Do as Princess Aurelia says. Make sure you provide what is needed here. And if you dare to speak to my brother about this, I will have your tongue cut out myself.â
The guard bowed his head. âYes, Your Highness.â
You smiled at him. âThank you, brother. I believe there may be some good in you after all."
He frowned. "I'm not sure if that's meant as an insult or a compliment."
âPerhaps both.â You stuck your tongue out at him and laughed. You were just trying to make him laugh and your intentions were innocent. But he wasn't laughing. In fact, he was looking at you seriously in a way you'd never seen him before.
"Don't laugh at me like that." His voice was sharper than his gaze. âAs if you don't belong to someone else.â
You swallowed, his eyes looking at you with a dangerous intensity. You averted your eyes.
âMy lady,â Decima came to your side. She was holding a bowl, without even turning your head, you could smell what was in it. The smell of meat was intense. You felt like your stomach was cramping.
âHot, freshly prepared food has arrived, the children are eating. Would you like to have some too?â
Instinctively you covered your nose with your hand. "No, Decima, could you keep that bowl away from me?"
"Ah, it seems we have some things in common after all. I think it looks disgusting too." Geta said with a displeased expression. "Well, I think I've seen enough, I want to leave now." He turned towards the carriage.
He raised his hand and beckoning you to join him. As it was nearing dusk, you were keen to return home, so you nodded in agreement. However, as you began to walk towards him, your vision blurred, and your feet betrayed you, causing you to collapse on the ground. When your cheek touched the cold cobblestone, you felt a severe headache. Then everything went black. The last thing you remember was Decima and Geta's concerned voices mixed together with the voices of children.
You felt slight shaking of your body, which prompted you to wake up. Your headache was still present, opened your eyes slowly. The first thing you saw were the golden curtains glimmering by moonlight, which entered through the long window. Next to the window was an armchair with golden details. It seemed as though everything in the room had a golden hue. You realized that you had been in this room before. You were beginning to regain consciousness. You then sat up.
"Sister, I hope you are feeling a little better?"
You opened your eyes wide and looked at Geta, who was lying next to you. On the bed. His bed. You let out a scream in shock. He flinched.
"WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE?â You quickly checked yourself over. Your clothes had been took off, and you were wearing a white, almost see-through tunic that didn't just belong to you. âWhat happened to my clothes?â You yelled.
Geta covered his ears with his hands. âUgh! Could you please stop screaming? You're hurting my ears!â
âWhat have you done to me?â
He laughed loudly and hysterically. "Apart from making you clean up and bring it to my room? What was I supposed to do? You collapsed on that awful, stinking street. Should I have let you stay in your filthy clothes? It was gross, so I had them thrown away."
The slaves must have dressed you, at least that was a relief. But you were still very angry that you had been put in this embarrassing situation. You realised that his eyes were roaming over you. You grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to your neck, covering your body.
âGet me some decent clothes now!â Your voice was slightly trembling with anxiety.
Geta raised his eyebrows, he pointed his index finger at himself. âDid you actually say that to me? You have no manners at all. You don't know how to talk to an emperor.â He teased.
You moaned in response, placed your head in your hands and rested on your knees.
âPlease, call Decima over here.â
"I want to know why you fainted. Tell me, are you sick?"
He touched your shoulder, you pulled yourself back and got out of bed. It is almost nighttime now. The mere thought of Marcus coming to Domus Severiana and seeing you like this made you shiver.
"Girl!" Geta yelled towards the door.
Decima and Geta's slave entered the room together, both looking at you with concern.
"Make sure you dress the princess properly. Otherwise she'll be torturing my ears with her squeaky voice all night." He said, squinting at you.
You ignored him. When the girl left the room to bring you a stola, Decima came over and held your hands.
"Are you alright? You frightened me.â
"I'm fine, but we should return to the villa now."
â"Indeed, you've been unconscious for a while, it's almost midnight."
"Midnight?" You bit your lip.
Now that was something to worry about. You were sure Marcus would be here soon. Luckily the slave girl came with a stola and began to dress you. You heard footsteps and then a knock on the door.
Geta was still sitting on the bed, wine in his hand. With his permission, a slave boy who came in looked scared. âYour Highness, my lady. General Acacius-â
âAurelia!â
Marcus's booming voice made you feel like you were on the verge of fainting again.
Geta grinned. "This is going to be fun."
You warned him as he was leaving the room. "Please don't say anything ridiculous to him.â
He shrugged. With your heart beating like it was going to burst out of your chest, you urged the girls to hurry up. Geta left the room. You tensed up even more when you heard him calling his name. Finally, the girls finished dressing you as quickly as they could, and you left the room, heading for the stairs with Decima who was trying to catch up with you. As you descended the stairs, you saw him and locked eyes with Marcus. He observed you with a keen gaze. You bit your bottom lip. He then looked at the stairs that belonged to Geta's chamber, then at Geta himself. Suddenly he grabbed Geta's collar with his fists, causing everyone to become tense.
"Have you gone mad Acacius? What do you think you're doing?â Geta barked.
âMarcus!â You ran towards them.
The guards drew their swords.
âWhat have you done to my wife?â He roared.
âGet your hands off me now!â Geta warned.
âMarcus, please, it's not what you think.â You grabbed his big hands and tried to pull them away from your brother's collar, but it was like moving a marble statue.
âYou don't seem to be taking good care of your wife like you promised.â
Marcus tightened his grip and shook him angrily. âWhat are you saying?â
The guards approached the two of them, their swords pointed at Marcus.
âGeneral Acacius, I warn you.â One of the guards said.
Marcus ignored him, his dark eyes locked on Getaâs.
âYour wife fainted in the middle of the street. I wonder if you were aware that she's been sick.ââ
Marcus then withdrew his hands, released him. You exhaled in relief. Geta ordered the guards to put their swords away.
Marcus stepped towards you. "Is that true?" He sounded concerned, touching your face with his hands.
You grasped his hand. "I felt unwell for a moment, but I'm fine now."
Marcus observed your face a little more. Then put his arm around you and glared at Geta. "We shall take our leave now."
Geta shouted behind you two. "You're not even going to ask for my forgiveness, Acacius?"
Marcus answered without looking at him. "With all my heart, no."
You turned your head and looked over your shoulder at Geta. He looked angry and annoyed. You gave him a faint smile.
"Your Highness, shall we stop him?" One of the guards gripped his sword once more.
"Just give us the order, Your Highness."
"Shut the hell up! Leave me alone, all of you! Get out of my sight!" He shouted at them and walked towards his chamber. Caracalla watched the whole thing from a distance, he was looking at his brother coming up.
"You're so pathetic." Caracalla chastised.
"Don't you start!" Geta barked at him, walked towards his room, and slammed the door.
It was well after midnight by the time you arrived back at the villa. Marcus still seemed a little tense, which made you wonder what he was thinking. He was looking at your ankle as you walked to your room. He stopped in front of the door.
âI do not see your knife.â
You looked at him, you had no clue.
âHere, sir,â Decima said. She came up the stairs and stood beside you. She was holding your scabbard in her hand. She handed it to you. âAfter you fainted-â She avoided Marcus's stern gaze, turning her eyes to you. âI'm the one who dressed you so I kept this.â
âThank you, Decima.â
She smiled. âIf you'll excuse me, sir, my lady,â she bowed and turned to head for the stairs.
Marcus closed the door behind you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and guided you to sit on the bed, then sat down next to you.
"My love. Are you sure you're feeling well?" His hands touching all over your face.
How can I possibly feel bad when you touch me like this? You thought.
"I suppose I do not need to bring a Medicus for you?â He smirked. âSo, what is your diagnosis, lady medicus?â
You smiled. âHmm, I think I became a little nervous when I-â You swallowed.
âContinue, please.â
"Caracalla. He had our relatives from Leptis Magna killed. I didn't see them, but I heard themâŠâ
Marcus frowned, clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it to his forehead. He then closed his eyes. âThat scum. He must be out of his mind for sure.â
You put your hand on his shoulder. "How do you mean?â
He then stood up. You went over him, untying the strings of his armour.
"Macrinus. He has a majority in the Senate. He managed to eliminate Gaius and his supporters. Caracalla is his instrument. It is likely that he will announce him Commander of the Praetorian (Imperial) Guards imminently. I should have killed him last night." He banged his fist on his desk, almost startling you.
You took a deep breath. âThen why did he go to Libya?â You helped him take off his armour.
"I believe there is a possibility that he is raising his own army. I haven't heard from the legions in that area for some time now."
"His own army?" You shocked. You hadn't realised how serious things were.
"If my suspicions are correct, yes. He also would want to incorporate the southern legions into his own as well."
"Your legions?"
âI'm afraid so.â He turned his head towards you. "I may have to go there soon."
You cringed and your chest hurt. You weren't expecting this at all.
Marcus realised the look on your face and put his arms around you. "I'll have to kill him sooner or later. And them too." His voice was sharp.
Surely you were aware of whom he was referring to.
âI will not waste another generation of young men on their arrogance and vanity. I will not allow Macrinus to use your brothers' trust and start a civil war that will harm Rome.â
âCaracalla, yes, but maybe Geta-â the words seemed to stick in your throat.
"Are you defending him to me?"
"Absolutely not." You shook your head. "I was just thinking he might make a good emperor.â
"Please Aurelia. I assume you're not meant seriously.â
"He's not like Caracalla. I believe you are aware of that. I don't think you are truly inclined to kill him."
"I was considering it. When I saw you coming out of his chamber..." He pursed his lips, trying to be calm.
You tensed as you remembered that moment. "I'm truly sorry about that." You bowed your head. Marcus placed his hand under your chin and gently lifted your face to look at your eyes.
"He didn't touch you, did he?" His brown eyes were almost black.
"No, Marcus. Of course not."
He grabbed your face in his big hands, pulled you towards him, you stumbled with the sudden rush of his. "I am the only one who can touch you. You are my Aurelia. Mine."
"I am indeed, Marcus.â
"Say it," he demanded. "Say that you're mine. I want to hear it from your lips."
"I am yours." You said softly.
He smirked and bent his head, kissing you roughly almost forcefully. His skillful hands were not gentle while undressing you in a hurry. When you were completely naked, he scooped you up and put you on the bed. In the blink of an eye he was on top of you and then inside you. While heâs having you roughly, his lips, his tongue, his teeth travelled over every possible part of your flesh. Marking you. As if physically claiming you. Making you his.
The sun had just risen when you opened your eyes. But it wasn't its light that woke you. It was the sudden pain in your stomach and the feeling like you'd been punched. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hand, attempting to suppress the urge to vomit. You hurried out of Marcus' arms and ran to the latrina. He was roused from his slumber by the sound of the door closing with a resounding bang.
âAurelia?â
You were too distracted by feeling unwell to focus on his concerned voice. You splashed water on your face to feel better after violently throwing up. Suddenly you felt Marcus's hands on your shoulders. âMy love?â
Your stomach was still causing you pain and you found it difficult to speak. Also, your head was spinning, so you took a moment to lean against the wall. Marcus quickly took you into his arms and carried you to the bed, sitting next to you.
âMy lady, I'm really starting to worry now.â
âNo, please don't. If I get some rest, I'll be fine.â
âAre you sure?â He took your hand in his hands.
You nodded and smiled at him. But his face showed concern.
âPerhaps I could stay here with you today.â
Just then, there was a knock on the door and Cato came in with Marcus's permission. He gave you both a nod. âSir, I am here to inform you that the soldiers you have been expecting from the south have entered the city at dawn. The Legates have requested an immediate assembly.â
"Is that so? At last, some good news." He said, then looked at you with uncertain eyes.
You smiled at him and touched his hand with yours. "Please do not concern yourself with my well-being. Just leave. It must be important."
He leaned towards you and kissed you on the forehead. "Have a good rest, my love. And please be well." He kissed your hand before leaving the room with Cato.
After a while there was a knock on the door again. Decima brought breakfast for you.
"My lady, are you feeling better?"
"I believe so."
She approached your bedside. "Would you like me to feed you?â
You laughed. âDear, please. Hopefully I'm not in a situation that requires me to be fed." You got out of bed and walked towards to the chair. You weren't exactly starving, but you knew you needed to eat to feel strong. You asked Decima to join you.
"My lady, well I am. I've been thinking it over.â
âHmm?â
"This nausea you're feeling, the headaches. I wonder if...â When she looked at you suggestively, you swallowed and looked at her, taken aback.
You'd never thought of that. As a medicus, you were confident that you didn't have any other underlying health issues. On top of that, it had been a few weeks since the wedding and you hadn't had any monthly bleeding since then.
"Gods," you murmured. "Could it really be?â
Decima took your hands, seemed excited. "I think so. Have you ever examined a woman carrying a child?"
"No, I've only assisted women in labour. I know how to run a consultation though. But it's still too early to be certain."
Decima smiled widely. "I hope you're with child."
You couldn't help smiling back. "I hope that too. But we should keep this between us for now."
"Indeed, of course.â
âDomina!â came a voice from behind the door.
âCome in.â
The slave boy from yesterday came in, his face was worried again.
âAm I being summoned again? Please tell them I'm sick and having rest.â
"You're not being summoned, my lady.â
âWhat's the matter, then?â
He bowed his head, as if he didn't know what to say.
âTell me.â You demanded.
âIf you can come down, you'd better see for yourself.â
You exchanged glances with Decima, then got up and left the room. As you were making your way down the stairs, you almost lost your footing when you saw the person standing in the courtyard.
âLady Domna?â
Julia was waiting by the fountain in a black cloak. She looked a bit worried and uneasy.
"May I ask what you're doing here?"
"We need to talk." She said in a commanding tone.
You suddenly felt tense as you remembered your last conversation with her. What the hell was she doing here?
'Do you usually keep your guests waiting without offering them a seat?'
You rolled your eyes and gestured to the armchair nearby. âHave a seat.â
She sat down in a rather arrogant manner. âLeave us,â she told your slaves. But they were looking at you. Julia was annoyed.
You sat opposite her. âLeave us alone please," you said the slaves with a smile. They then bowed their heads and left the courtyard. Decima too, she nodded.
"Your slaves don't know how to behave." She muttered.
"Could you please tell me why are you here? I thought you were in Syria?"
"I've recently returned. Never mind that. I need you to help me with something."
"My help? Why should I help you?"
"Because I believe you would want to.â
You crossed your arms. "What are you talking about? Speak clearly, please."
Julia sighed. Then leaned closer to you with a sharp gaze, whispering. "I need you to help me kill Caracalla.â
your reblogs, comments, likes are soo important to me so please if you enjoyed, support me thank you..
@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj
if anyone wants me to tag them please comment or msg me :)
#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal gifs#pedro pascal#ao3 fanfic#gladiator 2#gladiator ll#gladiator ii#general acacius#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius#general marcus acacius#marcus acacius x reader#marcus acacius smut#marcus acacius x female reader#marcus acacias x reader
207 notes
·
View notes