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absurdthirst · 20 hours ago

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Love Across Lifetimes {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: War, death, kidnapping, attempted escape, nudity, voyeurism, attempted assault, violence, hand jobs, oral sex (female receiving), loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out game is strong, imprisonment, death by beheading, reincarnation, oral sex (male receiving), happily ever after

Comments: Sent to retrieve Caracalla's bride, General Marcus Acacius finds that you never agreed to marry the emperor. Falling in love with you on the journey back to Rome and discovering how dangerous that love could be.

A/N: Written before I saw the movie on Friday but just couldn't get it edited until now.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“I am getting married.” Caracalla announces suddenly, surprising his generals as they crowd around the table that has the map of the empire laid out. “Congratulations, highness.” Marcus secretly feels sorry for whatever maiden has been coerced or picked to marry the spoiled ruler, but he nods respectfully. “We had not been aware that you had arranged a union.”

Caracalla grins. “That is why I need you, General Acacius.” He explains, pointing to a small kingdom on the edge of the Roman Empire. “My future empress is far enough away that I need you to fetch her.” He tells him. “Give her a proper escort to Rome.”

Marcus frowns slightly as he wonders what games the man is playing but it comes off as thoughtful instead of disrespectful. “Then I will gather my men and bring your bride to you.” He agrees, trying to imagine the spoiled, haughty girl that wants to be the empress of Rome.

****

You growl as your arrow misses the target. You’ve been training every day but you are still learning how to fight. Your father wants you to be prepared to defend your people when you become queen once he passes. Your instruction adjusts your arms, “you must concentrate. Your mind is not focused.” He murmurs and you narrow your eyes, focusing on your aim after you reload and you release, the arrow hitting its target. You grin, pleased with yourself, when you hear the horns. Soldiers come rushing towards you, “we must get you somewhere safe, Princess. The Romans are here.” Your eyes widen, “here? Why - why are the Romans here?” You ask, stumbling as they escort you inside and the battle begins outside to protect you and your kingdom from invasion.

****

Marcus wipes his brow, his skin covered in blood as he fights the men of this kingdom, knowing what his goal is, but they fight to protect their home. Why they fight when he was here to escort the princess to Rome, he doesn’t know but he had no time to ask when they attacked. He hears a battle cry and spins, swinging his sword to behead the man, his head rolling on the ground and Marcus’s chest heaves as the last of the men fall. He has won. Now, it’s time to meet the king and his daughter. The real reason he’s here.

“Do not cry, daughter.” Your father wraps his arms around your body to try to comfort you. He knows he will die, his army has been defeated by Rome and now the leader of that army will bring his head back to the emperor. “Show strength to our enemies so that they may know that we are not afraid.” The doors to the throne room are pushed open and a Roman soldier strides in, his walk confident yet weary. Covered in blood and dirt, he had not bothered to stop to clean up, eager to get this unpleasant task over with.

Marcus stands tall and watches you cling to your father. He says your name and your father frowns, “why do you want her? Surely my head is enough to satisfy the emperors.” Marcus frowns, “they informed me that she is to be empress to Caesar Caracalla. I thought this deal was arranged.”

Your father scoffs, “then why would my men fight?” He reasons and Marcus tilts his head, “I am following orders. She must come with me to Rome.”

Your eyes widen, “no. No. I will not. Father. Please.” You beg and he shakes his head, cupping your cheek, “be strong, daughter. Remember your training. Remember who we are.” He orders and nods to his men to grab you so he can step forward. “No! No!” You cry and your father kneels down before Marcus, “do what you must but know that I will curse the Roman Empire and her emperors.” He warns and Marcus swallows harshly, withdrawing his sword. “Make it quick.” Your father orders and you bury your face in the chest of the man holding you so you don’t see your father beheaded.

Marcus sighs as he lowers his sword. “I will not spill the blood of my future empress’s father.” He declares. The king is old and does not have too many years left, it is better to show you the mercy of Rome. Most of his soldiers are dead. “Your daughter will rule the world”, he tells the old man before he turns towards the man holding you. “Have her belongings packed and give them a few minutes to say their goodbyes.” He instructs, cursing Caracalla for what he has done. This is not a retrieval of a bride but a kidnapping.

You pull away from the men holding you, scrambling to kneel down next to your father and pull him close. You wrap your arms around him and he kisses your head, knowing he has no choice but to let you go. Your maids rush around to pack your things and soon, they are being loaded into the carriages that the Roman General brought to the palace. “You need to go.” Your father says and you shake your head, “no. No. What if - I do not know the emperor. He must be cruel. He must be, to have sent his army to destroy our people.” You choke, tears in your eyes.

“Men may think they rule the world but they do not. It is women who are smarter, emotionally stronger. They manipulate the men to do their bidding. Be like them. You may marry a man you do not love but you will be Empress of Rome. You will have power. Power is stronger than love.” Your father murmurs and wipes your tears away. “Be strong, daughter. Rule the world.” He orders and you nod, glancing over his shoulder to where the general waits for you.

“I love you.” You murmur to your father, knowing you’ll never see him again. “I love you too.” Your father nods, not letting you see how his heart is breaking. You try to step back but you don’t let go. Clinging to your father until the Romans step forward and grab you, dragging you away with a cry. You are carried onto a horse, the general swinging on behind you, and you sob as you are taken away from the only home you’ve ever known.

Marcus lets you cry, not bothering to offer you any platitudes or false words of comfort. He had just destroyed your home and stolen you away because his emperor wanted you. He’s sure Caracalla purposefully didn’t inform him that there had been no agreement, which angers him. Many good men had died for nothing. Marcus hands you a somewhat clean linen to blow your nose as he guides you farther and farther away from your home.

You don't say a word as you take the linen to blow your nose. You remain silent, refusing to give the General your voice as company while he begins the long journey back to Rome. Hours later, Marcus orders his men to set up camp when the sun starts to disappear beyond the horizon and he dismounts his stallion, holding his hands out to help you but you huff and kick his hands away, swinging your leg over to land on the ground with skills beyond a Roman woman. You have been raised around horses, taught to ride from a young age.

Marcus raises his brow at your stubbornness, secretly admiring it, but he knows that means you will cause trouble. He turns to his page and says, “have a bath prepared, I need to clean up, but allow our guest to bathe first.” He instructs. “She will be your future empress, so treat her with respect.”

You cross your arms and stubbornly stand there while his men work on setting up his tent and grabbing the tub that was carried on the cart at the back of the militia to prepare for you. You watch Marcus speak to his men, his body covered in the blood of your people and you clench your jaw. You don't wish to be empress to murderers, pillagers...monsters. You glance around, his men are busy and you see the horses are loosely tied up while they set up camp. You decide to take a chance. You run to the General's horse, swinging your leg over his back as you jump onto the horse, grabbing the reins to take off from the makeshift camp.

Marcus is talking to one of his men when he sees you jump onto the horse, his horse. “Shit!” The men start shouting and running towards you, spooking the other horses and causing chaos. He takes a second to admire your form, your ease in which you command the arrogant horse. Even if it’s no use. While his men scramble to stop you from escaping, Marcus plants his feet and sticks two fingers in his mouth. Emitting an ear piercing whistle that immediately makes his horse’s head rear up and change the direction he was running. Coming back to his general because he has been called.

You try to stop the horse, but he makes his way back to the general. You scramble off of him, jumping and falling into a heap. You hear footsteps towards you and you try to stand up, attempting to run but your arms are grabbed and you are pressed against the general. “Do not make another move, Princesa.” He growls, his knife pressed against your neck as his arm wraps around you and you hiss, sweat on your brow and you stop struggling, slumping in defeat.

Marcus hates how you look crumpled and broken, but he needs you to cooperate with him. Once you get to Rome, you can cause Caracalla all the headaches you wish, you will be his problem. Marcus just needs to deliver you to him safely. He softens slightly, pulling the knife away but he keeps his arm around you. “I don’t want to chain you up, but I will.” He threatens softly. “I would rather you make this easier on both of us.”

You nod, knowing you have no chance of trying to escape again if you are chained up. “Fine.” You murmur, inhaling deeply when he lowers his arms and his men gather around the horses, one of them taking the stallion back to the group. You are soon escorted into a tent, a bath full of hot water awaits you and you glance around at the soldier, “I will not strip with you standing there.” You declare with your chin raised up, “send a woman or leave me be.” You order and the soldier hesitates but steps out of the tent to speak to his superior.

Marcus sighs and dismisses his man before pulling the flap back and stalking into the tent. “There are no women here.” He tells you, making you snort. “I’ve seen the women.” You huff, crossing your arms and he frowns. “The camp whores.” He tells you bluntly. “Women who travel with the army to fuck my men. That is the kind of woman you wish to attend you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. You’ve heard about the women of the night and their services but you know they are hungry for coin, for status, for power. He watches you shake your head, “then you will have to strip with a guardian. I cannot allow you to be alone since you’ll try and run again.” He says and you scoff, “you want me to display myself in front of your men? They will take what does not belong to them.” You spit and Marcus sighs, “then allow me to stand guard. I will turn my back.” He turns around to allow you modesty and you huff, unsure of when your next bath will be so you reach for the clip that holds your robes together, letting them drop to the floor, unaware that a mirror is in Marcus’s eye line.

He had meant to be true to his word, to allow you privacy, but the movement in the mirror had made him instantly tense. Anticipating an attack. Only to find your dress falling from your body and your beautiful tits on display to him. You are gorgeous, like one of the goddesses. He can see why Caracalla would send him to retrieve you for his own. He would want you, if he were in a position to have you. He clears his throat and looks away, only to be drawn back to the vision when you turn around to step into your bath.

You sigh as you sink into the water, not as hot as you like it but beggars can’t be choosers when you are facing your entire world being turned upside down. You see how tense the General is as you reach for the oils, bathing yourself with a soft hum. You want to show him you are unbothered by his presence.

Marcus keeps looking away and then finding his gaze coming back to the mirror. Watching as you slowly go through your bath. It’s incredibly sensual and his cock twitches under his tunic and armor. He has been a long time without a woman, and you are gorgeous with the fiery spirit Marcus likes.

You wash yourself, making sure you are clean for the arduous journey ahead and you stand up, reaching for the linen to wrap around yourself to dry off and Marcus is still turned away from you. You glance around, “I have nothing else to wear. I will need to redress.” You say and Marcus shakes his head, “there are tunics in the trunk. Mine but you’re welcome to one.” He says and you huff, walking over to open the trunk. You drop the linen to pull the tunic over your head.

It’s jarring to see you, to see any woman in his clothes, but Marcus grunts as he turns towards you. “Now I need to clean up.” He tells you, expecting you to demure and turn away so he can clean the dirt, sweat and blood off his skin and change into clean clothes.

You sit down on the chair that faces the bath and you stare at him, challenging him to strip off in front of you. You won’t shy away and give him the advantage even if he gave you the same courtesy. You want to irk him. Get inside his head. That’s your ticket to escape.

He watches you with a frown for a moment, but you just arch your brow and he snorts. Reaching for the thick leather ties of his chest plate to start stripping off the protective gear.

You watch the general that has stolen you from your home strip off. He’s strong, that’s evident in his form, but with each piece he removes, you see how war hardened he truly is. The deadly strength in his form has you shifting in your chair and when he pulls his tunic over his head, your throat goes dry at his exposed figure. His cock flaccid and you hate how your stomach twists at the sight of him.

He’s grateful that he’s got enough self control that his cock isn’t hard. You act like his body doesn’t affect you and he pretends like it’s nothing to be naked in front of you. “There are guards outside the tent.” He warns as he grabs his own linen and strides over to the bath, eager to clean up.

You roll your eyes at his warning and watch as he gets into the water, blood immediately turning the water red. You swallow at that. The blood of your men swirling in the water. “Is the Roman army always so brutal?” You ask, watching him wash the blood from his skin with the cloth that he grabbed.

“Your men attacked us.” Marcus reminds you. “We believed that we were simply fetching the emperor’s intended bride.” He sighs softly. “When they attacked us, we had no choice but to fight back, believing we were being drawn into a trap.” In truth, he regrets the bloodshed, and would have avoided it if he had known you were unaware of the emperor’s claim on your hand. “I don’t like killing needlessly.”

You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes at the deception. Either by him right now or by the emperor you are intended to marry. “I never agreed to marry your emperor. I have never met him. What is he like? Is he cruel?” You ask, knowing some leaders can be too obsessed with themselves to do what’s right for their people.

“Sometimes.” Marcus tells you honestly. “He - has whims that drive him.” He knows that you could tell Caracalla and he would be angry at his general, but he also needs him to win the wars and claim the territories that he craves. “He will not like you running from him, he is used to being publicly adored.” He snorts, knowing how most really feel about the ruler.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “he sounds like a true Caesar. Self absorbed and focused on his own whims instead of helping the Romans achieve greatness. There’s no greatness in the vastness of the empire, there’s greatness within their people but from stories I have heard, they are starving. Taxed to their eyeballs and looking for salvation from anyone but their emperors.”

Marcus doesn’t confirm your comments, although they are true. “Then perhaps you as her empress can bring comfort to the people.” He tells you, continuing to wash. The water is murky now, but he feels better. He just needs to wash his back and his hair.

Your lip curls at the thought of marrying the emperor. You’ve heard rumors about him and his twin brother. How they make rash decisions based on emotions. “Perhaps I shall arrive and the emperor doesn’t deem me beautiful enough for his hand. Or maybe I will be too dumb. Or untameable. These are all things he should consider when picking a wife, no?” You tilt your head and look at the general’s back.

“You would think.” Marcus mumbles under his breath. “The emperor is very certain in his choices once he has made them.” Until he decides against them. He doesn’t tell you that, knowing it would be unfair to give you false hope. Caracalla wants you, so he will have you.

You huff, “I don’t know why he picked me. My lands are not conquered. My father will delegate someone to inherit the kingdom. I have nothing to offer.” You confess and Marcus grunts as he tries to clean his back. “

“I cannot claim to know what the emperor chose you.” He huffs, knowing he should have called his page into help. His muscles are sore from the fighting and he is not as limber as he might have been. He needs help to wash his back.

You see his struggle, your eyes glancing down to the knife that lays on the floor by the tub, clearly left there for him to use if needed. You see your chance. “I can assist you, General.” You say and stand up, kneeling next to the tub. He eyes you cautiously but hands the cloth to you. You grab the knife with your other hand and lean closer, starting to wash his back with the cloth. You see him relax slightly and decide to strike, dropping the cloth and bringing the knife up at the same moment.

Marcus reacts quickly, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. “You want to kill me?” He growls, scowling at you. “Do it when you’re the empress.” He tells you. “Until then, remember that I hold your life in my hands.”

You drop the knife and he catches it with his free hand, placing it on the other side of the tub. “You’d never escape without my men delivering you to the emperor. They are on orders to take you there even if I’m dead. You’ll be delivered to the emperor. Dead or alive.” He warns even though he knows it would be his head if you are delivered dead but he won’t be looking over his shoulder the entire journey home. “Fine.” You hiss, “you’re a bastard.” You growl and he chuckles, “nothing I haven’t heard before. Now, you were washing my back?” He reminds you, handing you the cloth. You roll your eyes and continue washing his back, knowing you’ll need to make a new plan.

He can hear you fume and plot needlessly as you roughly swipe the linen over his skin. “It will take us several weeks to get back to Rome.” He reminds you. “I would rather this be a pleasant trip.”

His tone makes you clench your jaw but you know you can’t run yet. You decide to focus on your survival and you know the General is key to that. You clean his back, your eyes trailing down his chest to take note of the scars and blemishes on his skin. “You have been fighting a long time.” You observe, “you must be weary.”

Marcus hums, knowing that he is weary of war and watching men die. One day he will fall on the field of battle and his fight will be over. “It is a heavy burden to watch men die.” He tells you. “Or be the cause of their death.”

You nod, seeing the haunted look in his eyes, and you are taken back by it. You had heard about the General, whispers from men who returned from far away lands that the General was lethal but right now you see a man who is tired of war and tired of death. “I can only imagine the things you have seen.” You hand the cloth back to him now that his back is clean and you reach for the oils, deciding to help him wash his hair. Perhaps you can win him over with kindness.

“My hope is that because I have seen them, my children will not have to.” He murmurs, even though he has no children. He sighs and shakes his head. “It does not matter. Wars will always be fought.”

You pour the oils into your palms, rubbing them together and you slide your fingers through his strands, your fingertips turning red as you wash his hair. “War will always be a man’s game. If women ruled the world, there would be no war. Simply silence.”

“Women are smarter than men.” Marcus’ eyes slide closed as he leans back. “I have always thought so. You might not have the strength that I do, but you think differently.” He chuckles.

You smirk, picking up the jug to rinse his hair, “women have their power between their legs. Men’s weakness is between their legs.” You say and Marcus snorts, closing his eyes as you slide your fingers through his hair.

“My father - he’s a good man. I- I want to thank you for sparing his life.” You murmur, admiring the general up close. He has lines on his face but he’s handsome. “Do you have a wife? Children? Back in Rome?”

“No.” Marcus’s brow pinches together for a moment. “My wife died in childbirth many years ago.” He hasn’t talked about Marcella in a long time, but he feels like he owes you a little bit of himself after all he’s taken from you.

Your stomach drops and you find yourself feeling sorry for him. “I’m sorry. No words can ever take away the pain I imagine you must feel.” You whisper, finding a vulnerable part of the war hardened General.

“They are running through the Elysian Fields, waiting for me.” He murmurs. “Or with the gods.” He sighs. “Or just gone. I don’t know. But it was a long time ago.”

“I am certain they are at peace, waiting for you. You shall die in bed knowing they are there waiting.” You say and he shakes his head, “I shall die on the battlefield. Killed by a man my junior. I have accepted my fate.” He murmurs and you sigh, “and I will not accept mine.” You withdraw your hands from his hair and grab the linens for him to dry off. “I am tired and hungry. I wish for your men to bring me a tray.”

He cracks an eye open and watches you. “I cannot have you telling Caracalla that you were starved on the journey to Rome.” He snorts before he grips the sides of the tub and heaves himself up with a groan. Water sluices down his body and he steps out of the tub onto the carpets lining the floor of his tent. Taking the linen with a nod of thanks, he quickly dries himself off and wraps the cloth around his waist to move to the tent flap and opens it. “Bring food and wine.” He orders one of the guards. “Enough for me and our guest.”

Your eyes follow his form, the muscles in his back moving in a way that has your throat dry. You need wine. That’s all. Yet why did you find yourself wanting to strip the linen from his waist and see more of him? “Thank you.” You murmur, certain that his men are whispering. “You will need to be careful. I’m sure you do not want your men spreading rumors that you are nude and in a tent with the future empress. The emperor will not take kindly to not having a pure bride.”

He lifts a brow, amused and confused by your worry of his own safety. “I thank you for your concern.” He nods as he moves over to the trunk you had pulled a tunic out of to get his own. “Although I doubt Caracalla will believe that I seduced you.”

You raise your eyebrows, “and why is that? You are too loyal to your emperor to imagine you committing such treason? Or am I not pretty enough for the revered General Marcus Acacius?” You scoff, wondering why he is so loyal to his Caesar when it’s clear he is weary.

He snorts and shakes his head. “You misunderstand.” He tells you. “I am old, scarred.” He gestures to his body. “Not young or handsome, rich or powerful.” He doesn’t bring up his rank, because you don’t seem like a woman who would care about a generator. “Caracalla would believe that I was too unappealing to seduce someone of your beauty.”

His answer makes your stomach lurch and you stand up, walking over to him. He puffs out his chest, prepared for your attack, but instead, you slide your hand down his covered chest. “You are not old. You are experienced. You have wisdom. And you are handsome. Weathered but I guarantee you any woman would eagerly slide into your bed. Do not discount yourself, general. You are appealing. You could seduce if you wanted to.” You pull your hand away, “Caracalla sounds like a fool if he believes otherwise.”

Marcus knows you are trying a new tactic and he frowns slightly. Your words make his body tighten in need but he doesn’t reach for you. “Perhaps I appeal to some.” He concedes, stepping away from you and reminding himself that you are trying to escape. “I am not worried about who would want me in their bed.”

You frown when he steps back. You may have been trying to form an escape plan but you genuinely mean your words. You sigh and make your way over to the chair just as his men bring in food and wine. You are starving and you should wait to see if Marcus eats first but you highly doubt he’d poison you when his job is to deliver you to the emperor.

He thanks his men and pours two large cups of wine before handing you one. “Drink.” He murmurs softly. “It has been a long day for you and you will make yourself sick if you do not drink and eat.” The sadness that had made your heart hurt has now been replaced with a fiery glow and he has to admire it, even if he needs to squash it. The men carry out the tub silently and he sits down on the bed since there is not another chair. He will have to have one brought, but for now, he will give it to you.

You know you can’t starve yourself in protest, you’ll need your strength if you want to attempt an escape again. You pick up the cup, taking a sip and you have to admit the Romans know their wine. You look at the meat and cheese on offer, taking some in your free hand and you chew on it, watching Marcus as he sits on the bed. “Will I have to share the tent with you?” You ask and he snorts, “I cannot have you running off again.” You nod, strangely feeling safer being in his tent. You know his men would likely take advantage of you on your own. Men at war are monsters, and you feel better knowing the General whose head depends on delivering you safe to his Emperor, is the one sharing your tent.

Marcus relaxes as you start to eat. His body is weary and he is tired, but he still watches you to make sure you don’t try to run. “Did you have a man you were to marry?” He asks. “In your land? Is that why you would not want to be empress?”

Your eyes flick up to meet his and you stare at him for a moment. You shake your head, “no. I did not. Many asked for my hand but I wanted to learn as much about my kingdom as possible from my father, to be the best Queen I could be for them. I was focused on training and politics. Not men.” You confess, “the only man I spent time with was my stallion.” You tease, placing a grape into your mouth.

“A wise choice.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his wine. “Horses are far better than people.” He sighs softly. “For what it's worth, I am sorry that your life has been disrupted and changed.” He murmurs.

It’s clear he genuinely feels that way and you nod, “thank you. I appreciate you being so honorable. A rare trait nowadays.” You sigh and he nods in agreement. You continue eating in silence until it’s time to sleep. “Will I be sleeping on the floor?” You ask, seeing one bed and nothing else for you to lay down on.

Marcus shakes his head. “You will sleep on the bed, with me.” You huff and he lifts a brow. “I will not touch you, except to make sure you do not try to escape.” He tells you. “Would you rather be tied to the bed so I can sleep?”

“I didn’t know you were that way inclined, General.” You tease, knowing that having an attitude won’t get you anywhere. You sigh and make your way over to the bed. “If we are to be sharing a bed for weeks, I pray you do not snore.” You slide under the sheets and turn on your side, not wanting to watch him as he settles in.

Marcus sets his cup down and kneels in front of a small altar he has set up for the gods. Lighting the incense to burn through the night for the souls that had been lost today in battle. He closes his eyes and murmurs a prayer. “Keep my men safe, allow them to return to their wives and mothers.” He says, like he does every night. “If my life must be the sacrifice for that, let it be done with honor.”

You listen to his prayer and you frown, maybe he isn’t a monster. He is praying for his men to return home safely even if it means his death. It takes you back and you turn to look at him as he stands up from his kneeling position. “You are different from most men, General.” You murmur.

“I will take comfort in your words when you are cursing me for completing my task.” He frowns slightly. “The gods have forced us together and I can only hope that there is a reason for it.” He sees you shiver and frowns, “do you need another fur?” He asks, thinking you might be cold since the temperature is dropping now the sun has gone down. He runs hot so he doesn’t sleep with many blankets no matter how cold it gets.

You nod, shivering under the sheets and he grabs another fur from the trunk, placing it over you, and you watch as he slides under the sheets beside you. “Goodnight, princesa.” He murmurs and turns his back to you after blowing out the candle next to the bed. You watch him as he relaxes and you close your eyes, sleep finally taking you after a traumatic day.

Marcus stays awake for a long time, listening as your breathing evens out and he sighs. “Damn you, Caracalla.” He curses softly, knowing that he would have never fought your people if he had known you were never in agreement to marry the emperor. Guilt swirls in his stomach and he wonders what the other man will do with you once he has his prize.

You awake with a start, confused by your location until you realize where you are and what happened. You blink and your lower lip trembles but you refuse to cry. You wake up a little more and realize you have shifted in your sleep and you are curled into the chest of the General, his arm under your head, and you gasp at the way you somehow curled around each other during your slumber.

Marcus is awake, he has been for hours but he refused to move when you were nestled up against him and sleeping peacefully. “Sleep deep, princesa?” He asks, his voice rough with disuse.

You immediately shift away from him, sitting up, and you’re flustered. You had liked how it felt in his arms and that scares you. “I- I’m sorry.” You choke out, shifting away from him.

“Do not apologize.” He murmurs, missing the feel of your body against his. “It is natural to seek out comfort when you are vulnerable.” He sighs. “Even if you would not when you are awake.” He groans as he shifts to sit up. “Come, I will have water brought for you to clean up and give you a moment of privacy for you to use the pot.” He motions over to a screen that he had ordered set up for your comfort when nature calls.

He’s considerate and that takes you back. “Thank you.” You murmur and he nods, shifting to stand up with a groan. You watch him leave the tent after putting on his sandals to get his men to bring water and you use the pot during his absence. His men bring water and you clean off behind the screen and Marcus returns with food and drink. It takes a while for his men to pack up camp but Marcus looks at you when you stand by his stallion. “I’d offer you a hand up but I know you are more than capable.” He says and you chuckle, reaching for the saddle to swing yourself up onto his stallion, wearing a new tunic from his trunk.

Marcus tries not to stare at your legs, his tunics much shorter than the dresses you have undoubtedly packed away in your things. Instead of saying something, he takes his cloak off and drapes it over your legs for warmth and privacy. “My men are not used to seeing such a beautiful woman.” He explains so you do not take offense before he pulls himself up behind you and takes the reins.

You scoff, “no need for flattery, General, I am willingly on your horse. I am not running away.” You lean back against him a little as he flicks the reins to move the stallion forward.

“No flattery, but the truth.” He hums in your ear. “The whore’s fuck them. But you are beautiful, untouched. Legs on display, you will have my men fighting to touch you and then I will have to kill them.”

“To preserve my innocence for the emperor.” You murmur, turning your head and your face is so close to his. Your eyes focused on him as he blindly controls the horse. “Yes.” He rasps and you hum, “you serve your emperor well, General. Many never see loyalty as strong as that in their lifetime. I wonder what would cause you to break that loyalty, make you throw your morality to the wind.”

He doesn’t answer, knowing that you don’t expect a reply. The army moves slowly and there are times that Marcus stops with you to let you attend to your needs before catching back up with the other officers. Many horses come up to him while you ride, asking questions or informing him of different things, but Marcus handles all of them with ease and grace, aware that the road is weary for everyone.

The sun beating down on you has you weary and you find yourself leaning back against the general, closing your eyes, and his arm wraps around you to keep you in place when you fall asleep. He’s spoken to you about Rome, answered your questions, and you have told him about your people, your lands, in between riders offering him questions or information.

Marcus looks down at you and sighs. He should slow the travel down. You are exhausted and he knows Caracalla will be less than pleased if you arrive worn out. He motions for his men to approach and speaks quietly. “We will make camp early every night.” He decides. “It will take longer to get home but the men will be better rested.” He isn’t doing it for the men, but for you. Perhaps by that time, you will have accepted your fate as empress. “Have the scouts find a place to rest for the night.”

Marcus shakes you awake gently when the horse has stopped moving. You gasp, reality hitting you once again, and you fluster, realizing that you fell asleep on him yet again. “I seem to be creating a habit. I’m sorry. You are welcome to wake me any time.” You say and he tuts, “you need your rest, princesa.” You don’t argue and you see the men starting to prepare camp. “I wish to have another bath.” You say and Marcus nods, swinging his leg over the horse and he holds his arms out for you to help you down. This time you allow it, his large hands gripping your waist as you are helped down from the horse and your chest is pressed against his, your head slightly tilted towards his face. “Thank you, General.” You murmur, patting his chest plate and stepping back, hating how your heart pounds at his proximity.

His dark eyes watch you. “You are welcome.” He nods and hands the reins of his horse off to one of the men. “Would you like for one of your trunks to be brought to my tent, or would you like to keep wearing my clothes?” He smirks slightly as he asks, secretly enjoying the way you look in his tunics.

You smirk, “I suppose I should wear my own clothes so you can have your cloak back during the rides.” You tap his chest plate, “I also would like to wear something that reminds me of home.” You murmur and he nods, calling over one of his men to retrieve your trunks. It doesn’t take long for the men to step up camp and you enter Marcus’s tent, grateful to be out of the sun, and you walk over to your trunk to open it, gathering the oils you wish to use for bathing.

The tub is brought into the tent by three men and set in the middle of the space. “We will bring hot water as quickly as it boils.” A young boy of fifteen informs you with a small blush. “The general ordered the water to be hotter than it was yesterday.”

“Thank you.” You tell the boy, knowing his mother must be worried sick about him wherever she is. You know Marcus is speaking to his men and won’t return until you are done with your bath. Two men return with pails full of steaming hot water and you thank them, watching them leave after they fill the tub. You’re just about to remove your tunic when the tent flap opens and one of the men return. “Did you forget something?” You ask and he chuckles darkly, “I wanted to see what the fuss is all about. Why did we lose men to retrieve you as our future empress? You must have a cunt made of gold.” He says and you try to open your mouth but he covers it with his palm, his other hand grabbing your waist to drag you against him. Your training kicks in and you bite down on his hand while elbowing him in the side, making him choke, and you rush out the tent, screaming for Marcus.

Marcus is talking with his men when he hears a scream of his name and instantly knows it’s you. His eyes dart towards the tent even as he draws his sword, lurching forward to race towards you as he sees your figure darting from between the tent and the men, looking behind you with an expression of pure terror. He sees one of his men chasing after you and he would have believed that you were trying to escape again if it weren’t for that scream and that you are racing towards him. When he reaches you, he throws his arm around your waist and drags you behind him roaring the name of the soldier as he plants his feet as a barrier between you and the other man. “What the fuck is going on?”

You cling to him, feeling safe with him in front of you. “He - he grabbed me in the tent. Came back alone and I tried to scream but he covered my mouth. He was - he said he wanted to know why I was chosen as empress. Said he wanted to know if I had a cunt made of gold.” The soldier scoffs, “she’s lying. She tried to escape. Bit my hand when I tried to stop her and she’s a lying cunt.”

“If she was trying to escape, she would not have screamed my name or run towards me.” Marcus growls, furious that one of his men would try to harm you. He points his sword at the man. “Tell the truth now or your death will be slow and painful.” He warns.

The soldier scoffs and rocks on his feet, his eyes narrowed towards you. “As if any man here would deny wanting to feel a virgin cunt around their cock? And the future empress? Fuck the Emperor and his ridiculous wars. We lost men retrieving this bitch. I wanted to see if she was worth the sacrifice.” He confesses, looking around to see if any of the others would back him up.

Marcus waits, giving the men time to speak up and voice their opinions but everyone is quiet. Feet shuffle and leathers creak as they stand and wait for their general’s wrath. He rocks his jaw. “I have lost men for a cause I would never have agreed with.” He admits. “But that is not her fault. And I have never condoned rape.”

The soldier scoffs, “men have taken what isn’t theirs throughout history. We need to remember that. Perhaps the General wants to save her for himself? That’s why he is kept in his tent.” The soldier digs a deeper hole and you step around Marcus. “I never asked to be taken from my home, from my people. I am sorry you lost men, so did I. I never asked for this and I certainly never asked to be taken against my will.” You stand tall, not letting the men see you are afraid.

Marcus lets you speak, knowing that it is your right. “You dared to try to defile the future empress of Rome.” He reminds the man. “Dishonoring your house, your name.” He reaches out and pulls you behind him again and steps forward. “The gods will judge you.” He declares, his sword coming up with a quick swing of his arms and he beheads your attacker without any hesitation. The headless body stands for a moment before collapsing onto the ground as his head rolls away. “Any man who seeks to take what is not his will be given the same.” His voice lifts and his words are stern. He looks back at the body and spits on it before dropping his sword.

You don’t flinch at the sight of the beheaded man. You’ve witnessed worse as the Princess of your kingdom. You never shied away from the horrors of war, knowing that you needed to experience it to lead your men. Marcus grabs your arm but you’re not scared of him as he escorts you to his tent. He releases your arm as soon as the flap to the tent closes and you turn to face him. “I’m sorry.” You spit out, worried that he’s angry with you.

“Did you try to seduce him?” Marcus demands and you hiss in anger. “No! I did not try to seduce him!” You look angry, but he can tell you are being truthful. “Then you have no reason to be sorry, princesa.” He responds quietly. “He made his decision to act like he did and it cost him his life. You did not cause it.”

You nod, knowing he's being reasonable, and you sigh, glancing at the bath. "I would like to bathe now." You say and Marcus has the man's blood splattered on his face. "You need to as well." You observe and he nods, "I will leave you." He says and you reach for his hand, "no. Can you - can you stay? I don't want to be alone." You plead softly and he nods, looking down at your hand. He turns his back to give you your privacy and you undress, sinking into the water.

Rage arms in his veins and he doesn’t dare to look into the mirror right now. Afraid of his own reaction. He hasn’t killed the man because he had attacked the future empress, he had killed him because he had dared to touch you. The possessiveness that is silent in his system is not good and he clenches his fists as he takes several deep breaths to calm himself down.

You slide your oils along your skin and it hits you. A sob escapes your lips as the reality of the past few days hits hard. You have been taken from your home, nearly watched your father be killed, nearly assaulted, and you are to marry a man you've never met. Your emotions run high and you sob, tears dropping into the water.

Marcus hears your muffled sobs and they rip at his heart. “You’re safe, princesa.” He says roughly, thinking you are overwhelmed from your attack. “No one will harm you while I live.”

His words wrap around you and you feel safe with the man tasked to take you. You are conflicted and your sobs calm, inhaling deeply as you wash your face, "thank you, Marcus." You murmur, watching his back as he stands guard.

“And I am sorry.” He confesses softly, feeling more like himself now. He doesn’t turn around and watches the tent flap for any movement outside. His back is tense as he stays turned away from you and you wash quickly, standing up, and you wrap the linen around your form. “You can look now.” You say, certain that he wants to wash off the blood of the dead soldier. “I have oils you can use.”

“Thank you.” He nods his head and starts to strip, not realizing his body is still hard. His cock jutting up in frustration and arousal. He knows you are not looking, so he doesn’t bother to turn away as he strips down.

You turn towards the tub at the same time he’s stripped and stepping in. His cock hard and your eyes widen. You have never seen a man naked like that before and it has your face heating up. “I have - the oils.” You choke, holding them out to him as he sinks into the water.

He sees how wide your eyes are and looks down. “Forgive me, princesa.” He murmurs, reaching out slowly to take the oils. “It sometimes happens on its own.” He confesses. “You don’t need to worry that I will act like the man I just killed.”

You shake your head, “no. No. I know. I just - I’ve never seen - you are beautiful.” You murmur, knowing he wouldn’t hurt you. Whether that’s for the emperor’s sake or yours, you don’t know, but you know he hasn’t harmed you.

His eyes watch you, surprised that you are saying such things to him. At least you don’t fear him. “I am just a man.” He tells you. “Thank you.”

You shake your head, “you’re a good man. You could’ve treated me badly, let your men touch him, maybe even taken me for yourself, but you didn’t. You’re a good man, Marcus.” You murmur, shifting to kneel by the tub.

He shakes his head. “Don’t praise me too quickly, princesa.” He growls softly. “You don’t know what I have thought, imagined.” His fingers curl around the edge of the tub and he looks back at you after looking away.

You frown, tilting your head in curiosity, “tell me what you’ve thought, imagined. Perhaps it will tarnish my opinion of you but I need to know.” You say, knowing you cannot hide from the truth. It’s better to face reality when you are on a journey to marry a man you do not know.

“Touching you.” Marcus confesses. “Taking you, for my own, seizing your innocence and showing you what it is like to have a man between your thighs.” He swallows harshly. “Not to have you as a prize but to experience your fiery passions and see what you could be.”

His words immediately make your stomach twist, your cunt clenching around nothing in a feeling not entirely foreign to you. You shuffle closer, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “I had a dream earlier. When I was riding on your horse. The rhythm of the horse and you pressed against me…I imagined you inside me, taking me without anyone knowing.” You confess and slide your hand lower, your eyes watching him for any protest as your hand trails until you are wrapping your fingers around his cock. He chokes, “you don’t-” You shush him, “let me touch you, General. Show me what to do.”

He should push your hand away, refuse you, but he feels frozen in place. His cock twitches in your hand, making the water ripple slightly and you gasp while tightening your grip on him. His hand slowly uncurls from the edge of tub and he covers your hand with his much larger one and he groans softly when he starts to slowly guide you in how to stroke him.

You are fascinated by the look on his face. He looks wrecked already and you love that you are making him feel this way. You squeeze him when his hand tightens around yours, setting the pace he wants.

“You don’t-“ Marcus closes his eyes and pants slightly. “It’s- just like that.” He tells you, knowing that you will do what you like and he’s too worked up to deny you.

You don’t listen to his protest because you want to do this. “You should know by now that I never do anything I don’t want to do, General.” You smirk and continue pumping his cock.

He knows that, he knows it very well. He lets go of your hand and lets you control his pleasure as you stroke. “Admire that.” He grunts.

You feel empowered by the way he groans, withering under your touch. This powerful general is moaning your name and you control his pleasure. It’s intoxicating and makes you wet as you control this part of your destiny. “I know. You are unlike any man I’ve ever known. So strong. So powerful. Yet you don’t abuse your position. I admire that.”

He groans softly. “Real power doesn’t require abuse.” He had learned that from Marcus Aurelias and Maximus when he was younger and he had never forgotten it.

You continue pumping him, moving your hand a little faster and his hand falls away to grip the side of the tub, his neck elongated when he throws his head back. You can’t help but lean in to kiss the skin there.

The groan he gives you is almost pained, pleasurable in the most gut wrenching way. He says your name again, trying not to rock his hips up as you touch him. “That’s it, princesa.” He praises.

You kiss his neck, loving how you can feel his pulse beneath your lips while you squeeze his cock, instinctively twisting your wrist as you pump his cock. You want him to fall apart for you.

Marcus gasps out your name softly and he feels his body tense. Knowing that he is about to cum, he locks eyes with you.

You look at him, loving the way his lip curls slightly and you pump his cock. feeling it pulse in your grip and finally, he lets out a low groan of your name. Spurts of cum hit the back of your hand and his stomach and you watch him in fascination and arousal.

He rides out his orgasm with a groan and reaches down and stops your hand. “Princesa- you have to stop.” He tells you, wondering what you thought of the first time you touched a man.

His plea makes you chuckle and you loosen your grip on his cock, letting it soften against his belly, and you reach for the cloth to wash his skin. “You look so beautiful when you fall apart.” You murmur, caressing his cheek with your other hand.

“I should not have let you touch me.” He murmurs softly. “But there is something about you that makes me reckless.”The emperor would have him killed if he ever found out, but Marcus can’t find it in himself to care right now. “Did you enjoy making me weak?”

You lower your hand and dry your other hand off on the linen, still kneeling by the tub. “I did.” You smirk at the relaxed look on his face, “here are the oils.” You hand him one, “I’m sure you want to clean up after an arduous day.” You say and you offer him a shy smile now that the lust has passed from his eyes.

Marcus frowns for a moment before he takes the oils from your hand. “Thank you.” He should touch you, to give you the same pleasure, but you don’t seem to be wanting it. “I try to be clean when I sleep.” He tells you. “I rest better.”

You nod, shifting to stand up and you grab a tunic from his trunk, letting the linen drop from your body to pull his tunic over your head, letting him see your bare back and ass. You feel his eyes on you and that makes you smirk as you turn to face him while he washes off with the oils you gave him.

He feels like it’s deliberate, you wearing his tunic again. “You like my clothes.” He notices how you show off slightly, twisting as flaunting the shorter hem with a smirk on your face. “And you wonder why I view you as mine.” He snorts.

“They are more comfortable than my clothes.” You confess, brushing down the hem, “and I like that they are yours.” You add, making your way over to his bed to sit down, watching him rinse off and he shifts to stand up, water dripping from his form and you unashamedly drag your eyes down his body. “It makes me think that I’m yours.”

He stares at you for a moment. “I could give you pleasure.” He offers, wanting to touch you. “You would stay pure and still know what it’s like to have a man touch you.” It’s a risky offer, but he wants to have some claim over you right now.

His offer makes your body warm and you arch as he reaches for linen to dry himself off after he steps out the tub. He steps towards you once the linen is wrapped around his waist and you shift to kneel on the bed, reaching for the hem of his tunic to remove it. You pull it over your head and toss it to the floor, “touch me, Marcus. I want to know what it’s like.” You order, knowing you should hate the man who kidnapped you from your home but you want him, he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met.

His gaze is focused, intense as he admires your body. “You are beautiful.” He growls, eyes roaming from your tits to your thighs, drinking in the sight of the curls that cover your cunt. “Lay back and spread your legs.” He orders. “Close your eyes to start.”

You follow his order, laying down on the pillows of his bed. Your heart is pounding and your stomach twists with anticipation when you spread your legs, allowing him to see your wet folds. “Close your eyes.” He reminds you and you close them, shivering in anticipation.

Marcus comes over to the bed and slides his hand up your thigh and holds your waist while he leans in and presses his lips to yours gently. Kissing you softly for your first kiss and capturing your gasp and sliding his tongue into your mouth when you open up slightly.

You reach up to cup his cheek, unsure of what to do. You’ve never kissed anyone before and you find yourself too eager, knocking your nose against his. He chuckles against your lips and tilts his head, sliding his tongue back into your mouth and you moan, keeping your eyes closed.

You yield to him, giving him a sense of conquest because he knows you would not just give in to anyone. His hand slides up and cups your breast as he breaks off the kiss to move his lips down your body. “Princesa, I will make you moan in pleasure and shake apart on this bed.” He promises right before he wraps his lips around your other nipple as he squeezes your tit in his hand.

You gasp, tangling your fingers in his damp hair while he bites and sucks on your nipple. “Oh gods.” You moan, your cunt clenching around nothing and you love these sensations. It’s more than you’ve ever felt. He releases your nipple with a pop and switches to the other one, making you whimper, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him between your thighs.

Marcus kneels between your spread thighs. Kissing and flicking his tongue against your sensitive nipples and switching back and forth between them. Until your legs are pressing against his hips and your whimpers have become loud. He can smell the arousal from how wet you are becoming and he bites down on your hard nipple before pulling off of it and kissing down your stomach. “Your cunt aches, doesn’t it?” He asks, wedging his shoulders between your thighs and hooking your legs over them. “Throbs?”

You nod, lost in the haze of the pleasure he’s already given you. You open your eyes to look down at him, his dark eyes fixed on your cunt and you whimper again. “It does. I- I need - I don’t know. Your fingers. Anything.” You beg a little, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Nothing but my tongue inside you.” He promises, knowing he can’t risk your innocence that way. He knows he can make you cum on his tongue. “Now you can watch.” He smirks. “Watch as I service you, show you what it feels like to have your cunt eaten.”

You watch him kiss your thigh, his breath washing hot over your cunt and you can’t stop the whine that escapes your lips. “Please, Marcus.” He chuckles and grips your thigh, keeping you spread open as he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds. The sound that escapes you is almost inhuman. You’ve never felt the wet, hot glide of a tongue there and it makes you cry out.

Your scent is almost as intoxicating as your taste. Marcus groans heavily as he takes another taste with a swipe of his tongue. Settling in to bury his face in your cunt and devour you completely. It has been a long time since he has tasted a woman and you make him ravenous.

His tongue carves a path no one else has taken and your back arches as the pleasure clouds your mind. You love it. You moan his name and tangle your fingers in his hair, letting him decide how he’s going to ruin you with his tongue.

Marcus focuses on your sounds. Sliding his tongue and flicking it to pull the prettiest sounds from you and repeating the actions when you obviously enjoy it. He loves how you are giving yourself into his care and letting him show you these pleasures. Claiming a piece of you that you could never give someone else because it is his.

Your hips rock up unconsciously trying to chase his tongue but he throws his arm over your waist, keeping you still so he can push his tongue into your dripping cunt. “Oh fuck.” You curse, “Marcus. That - it feels so good.” You almost choke on your words, overwhelmed by the feelings.

He hums against your folds, his nose pressed against your clit as he works his tongue deeper inside you. Feeling the way your walls try to clench down around him and he knows you would feel exquisite around his cock, but he can’t take your innocence.

He works you higher and higher with each swipe of his tongue. His broad shoulders stretch you wide for him to have access to all of you and he sucks on your clit, making you cry out loud enough that you’re certain his men hear you.

Marcus pulls his head away and smirks at you. “Not so loud, princesa.” He coos teasingly. “The men already think I am keeping you for myself.” He dives back into your folds after you slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds.

You love how he’s claiming you like this. You want the men to know you are being kept by him but you understand how that’s dangerous for you both. You feel your stomach twist with a foreign feeling, clenching and your thighs tighten as the feeling spreads until you are moaning into your hand as you fall apart for him.

Marcus continues to suck on your clit, watching you with a possessive gaze and feeling his cock harden again. He can’t take you, but he wants you to enjoy every second of pleasure that courses through your veins. Pulling away when you are whimpering, before it turns to pain, he kisses your clit once more. His mouth is soaked with your juices and he licks his lips. “Beautiful, princesa.”

You whimper, overly sensitive to his touch and you run your fingers through his hair, loving how he looks ravenous still. “I wish you could fully claim me.” You confess breathlessly, “fill me up.”

“I cannot.” He comes up and presses his lips to your softly. “Not because I do not want to.” He promises. “I would not put you in that kind of danger.”

You sigh, nodding in understanding that the emperor would want a pure woman for empress otherwise you’ll likely be killed. You caress his cheek and swing your leg over his, feeling his hardening cock against your thigh. “Do you want me to-?” You ask but he shakes his head, reaching for your wandering hand to bring it to his chest. “No. Let’s rest. We have a long journey ahead of us.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead when you curl into his chest. “Goodnight Marcus.” You whisper and he hums, “goodnight, princesa.”

****

Everyday, he pleasures you with his mouth, spending more and more time with you wrapped around him as you muffle your cries. Sometimes even risking touching your clit while you are riding to the next encampment. He talks with you outside the bed, having thoughtful conversations and learning about you. Falling for you. You are sexy and intelligent, far too good for the spoiled emperor, but it is not his decision to make.

You blink as you awaken before Marcus. A rare opportunity. You look at him as he sleeps, the sheets and furs at his waist and his arm is under you, making your heart flutter. You’ve fallen for the man tasked with bringing you to the emperor. He’s strong, brave, smart, and not to blame for your kidnapping. He’s loyal and follows orders but he’s been in your bed, pleasuring you. You see his hard cock, tenting the sheets and you whimper, still wet from your nightly routine of him eating your cunt. You move slowly, not wanting to startle him, and you shift to straddle him. He doesn’t awaken and you smirk, deciding to take action when he won’t. He clearly wants you and he’s too rigid to take what is already his. You shift the sheets down and grip his cock, hovering naked over him, you decide to take your fate into your own hands and position him at your entrance. You sink down, watching his brow furrow as he stretches you out with his cock.

Marcus groans at the pleasure of his dreams, although night spent dreaming of being buried in your cunt. Of filling you until you are round with his child and keeping you. Your weight shifts and you hiss slightly, breaking through his sleep until his eyes open. Marcus grabs your hips, gasping your name as he tries to lift you off his cock before the damage can be done but all he manages is to bury himself deeper as he lurches up. “What have you done? Princesa-“ he chokes out, unable to say anything else as the weight of your actions washes over him. You are no longer pure.

You giggle, bending over to kiss him softly, “I don’t care. I want you. I don’t give a shit if the emperor knows I’m pure or sullied. I will claim I had lovers in my kingdom. He sent you so far away to claim me with no knowledge of my purity. I want you, Marcus. I’m yours. All of me.” You promise, kissing his chin as you adjust to his cock inside of you.

He closes his eyes and sighs softly, hands sliding up your back gently, caressing your spine. “He doesn’t deserve you.” He murmurs quietly. He loves you, he has completely been ensnared by your grace and beauty, your brilliance and your strength. “I am yours, princesa. Completely.”

You grin, pecking his lips, “I love you, General.” You promise and start to move on top of him. “Show me. I don’t - this is all new to me.” You murmur, reaching for his hands to bring them to your hips, wanting him to guide you.

“Does it hurt?” He frowns slightly and you roll your eyes and clench down around him. “No, it feels incredible.” You promise breathlessly. “Good.” Marcus hums. “Riding a man is similar to riding a horse.” He flashes you a grin. “Roll your hips and keep your seat.”

You furrow your brow in concentration and work on rocking your hips like you’re riding a horse. You tense your thighs and moan when the sensation makes your spine tingle. “Oh gods.” You choke, “you feel so big inside me.” You grab his hand to place it on your belly so he can feel himself pressing against your womb.

Marcus growls in pleasure, watching you with dark eyes and tensing underneath you. “You feel perfect around my cock, princesa. So tight.” He rocks his hips up slightly and makes your tits bounce.

You moan when he rocks his hips up and you fall forward onto his chest, your hands pressed against his pecs and you rock back onto his cock. He feels incredible inside you and you love it. He feels like everything you’ve imagined since you started an intimate relationship with him. “Fuck.” You curse, feeling him twitch inside you and he grabs your hips, keeping you still so he can thrust up into you. “Ohhhh.” Your moan is garbled as you let him fuck you and it has your body tensing. You clamp down on his cock, eyes squeezed shut at how good it feels.

He can’t spill inside you. He can’t risk planting his seed in your womb. He plants his feet on the bed and holds you tight. “Cum for me.” He growls. “Cum, princesa.”

His words tip you over the edge, crying out as you collapse against his chest. Cunt spasming around his cock as you soak him.

Marcus flips you over, needing to be in control so that he can pull out of you when he’s about to cum. Now that you have seen the stars, he starts to hammer into you ruthlessly. Groaning your name as he fucks you.

You watch him, jaw clenched as he fucks into you hard and fast. You are pushed up the bed and the sheets shoved to the floor as he fucks you. You cling to him, scratching down his back as he prolongs your orgasm and you want him to cum for you. “Shit, I need - want to see you cum.”

“Have to- have to pull out.” He pants, neck straining and he grits his teeth. “Fuck.” He hisses, loving how wet and tight you are. How you fit around him like armor. He rocks his hips another half dozen times and when you nip his jaw with your teeth, he’s pulling back. Quickly pulling out of your cunt and throbbing against your belly as he paints your skin with his seed. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

You can’t deny you’re disappointed he didn’t fill you up but you know it’s too risky. Arriving in Rome full of his baby would be a death sentence and you reach between you, pumping his cock to wring him dry with a moan of his name in the aftermath of your pleasure.

Marcus rocks his hips into your grip until every drop of his cum is painting your skin. “I love you, princesa.” He murmurs softly, leaning in and kissing your lips before he shifts off of you to collect a linen to clean you up.

“I love you too, my General.” You murmur, watching him as he carefully cleans your skin. You love him. That much is clear and you don’t know what the days ahead hold for you but you know you must let him go when the time comes. For both your sakes. For now, you’ll enjoy the journey to Rome.

****

“Princesa-“ Marcus wakes with a groan as you slip into his bedchambers he has been graciously given until the wedding between you and Caracalla. The emperor had been very pleased with your arrival and had arranged feasts and games in honor of the upcoming nuptials. All arranged to best his brother and to show off the extravagance of Rome. Tonight, Marcus had drank too much heavy wine during the feast, trying to drink his sorrows away since you will be marrying the emperor in two days time. “You should not be here.” Every night since arriving, you have snuck into his bed and every night he reminds you that this is risky. Even as he is pulling you towards him, he knows he should push you away. You are already naked, having stripped before slipping into his bed.

“I know but I need you, Marcus. We don’t have a lot of time left before I am in Caracalla’s bed. You are dreading marrying the emperor. He’s childish, selfish, and clearly deranged. You do not want to marry him but you have no choice. He’s already threatened you when you pushed back on the wedding being so soon. You straddle him, leaning down to kiss his lips, “take me, Marcus. I want you to claim me. Show me that I belong to you.”

He cannot deny you, not when his own heart aches so fiercely because of your fates. “I love you.” He promises, reaching up and cupping your cheek as he wraps his other arm around you to roll you into your back. “You are mine. I have touched you in ways no other man ever has.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and you ache for him. You want to be in his bed every night. You want to be his. You don’t give a damn about being empress, you want to be his wife. Even without a title. You’re wet for him already, having thought about him all day, and he groans when he slides the head of his cock through your folds.

“Mine, princesa.” Marcus promises with a groan as he starts to push into you slowly. Rolling his hips as he savors the feel of breaking you open again. No matter how often you have had sex, he is obsessed with the way your body gives under the pressure of his cock against your walls.

You take him like you’re made for him and you think you are. You are destined for each other but unable to be together. Star crossed lovers. You throw your head back as he rocks into you, his lips finding your neck and you grip his shoulders, “I love you.” You gasp, wrapping your legs around him.

“Isn’t this sweet?” Dread races down Marcus’s spine as he hears a voice that makes him freeze above you. The voice of his emperor. Twisting his head, he finds Geta smirking as he strolls into the light from a corner of the room. “You love each other.” He hums mockingly, eyes alight with manic glee. “I told my brother that there was something between you, but he didn’t believe me.” Anger flashes across the man’s face before it’s replaced with nonchalance. “Now he will.” He declares before he raises his voice. “Guards!”

You cry out as Marcus pulls out of you and is immediately ripped off of you, guards grabbing him and you try to scramble from the bed but the guards grab your legs, pulling you back and you scream as you are held naked in front of Geta who walks over to you and grips your chin. Your lip curls in disgust and he chuckles, “my brother thought he was so clever, bringing a foreign princess to marry. He hoped you’d be pliable, dutiful, obedient. You wouldn’t be corrupted by the pleasures of Rome but it appears our great General has shown them to you. Taken you as his own despite his emperor’s orders. You’re nothing but a foreign whore.” Geta scoffs and you can’t help it. You spit at him and he hisses, his hand coming up to slap your cheek.

“Don’t touch her!” Marcus barks, but the men who are holding him are not his own soldiers, loyal to him. They are loyal to Geta, to Caracalla. The emperor turns towards Marcus with a raised brow and a smirk on his face. “I believe those were your orders, General.” He snorts. “You disobeyed.”

Your cheek stings but you don't let Geta see you cry, knowing this means your death. You doubt the Emperors will allow this to pass without punishment but you will not be a withering flower. You'll stand strong until the last moment.

“I seduced her.” Marcus confesses, hoping that you might be spared from execution. “Take my life and spare her.”

"No!" You cry and try to move but the guards keep you against them. "No. I - I let him seduce me. I should've kept my legs shut. He's a man. He took what was offered. Take me. Not him." You plead, knowing Rome needs him. They never needed you. Marcus shakes his head and Geta chuckles, his lips pouting, "awwww the lovers want to die for each other. No need. You'll die together. In front of Rome." He promises and looks to the guards, "take them to the cells."

Marcus starts to struggle, shouting at Geta and the men until he is hit over the head with a sword and crumples to the ground unconscious. Dragged away without any consideration as you are pulled out of the room, still naked, to be taken to the cells beneath the palace.

You are dragged down to the cells and you are pushed into one, thrown on the floor without any clothes given to you. You hear the door to the cell next to you open and your eyes widen, knowing Marcus will be there. You wait until the footsteps of the guard fade and you rush up to the door, gripping the bars. "Marcus." You call, hoping he is awake and can hear you, "Marcus."

Marcus groans, head pounding but he hears you call his name again. “Princesa.” He chokes out, stumbling to his feet and managing to make it to the door. His head is bleeding and his eyes can’t focus, but he doesn’t care about that. “Are you hurt?” He demands.

"No. No. Are you okay?" You ask, wanting to hear that he's not in pain. "I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle." He says and you rest your forehead against the bars, "how do we escape?" You ask, hoping he has a plan.

Marcus closes his eyes. “We don’t.” He admits quietly. “My men have been sent home, everyone here is loyal to the emperors.” He sighs. “I failed you, Princesa.”

You choke on a sob, the reality of your fate hitting you and you sink down against the door, resting your back against it. "I wish things were different. We never should have come to Rome. We could've gone back to my lands. You could've been my prince and we - we would get married, have children. We could've - we could've died in old age, in peace."

“Not in this life, my love.” Marcus knows that he must face death with strength, but tears slip down his cheeks for you. “In another life, perhaps.” He closes his eyes. “I will search for you.”

You nod even though he can't see you, "in another life. I'll love you even in death, my General. I'll find you in the next life." You promise, "I'll never stop searching." You sob and before you know it, you hear footsteps from the hall and your heart pounds. "Marcus!" You cry and you back up when the door is pushed open. "It's okay. What are you doing?" He growls when he's pushed back into the cell. "You will bathe and dress. You'll be brought in front of the emperors." The guards order and a tub is brought in, a handmaid bringing your clothes to dress you and do your hair.

Marcus prays that Caracalla has overruled Geta. That he will spare your life. “Do what they say.” He orders you softly. “Do what you must to survive.” He knows his own life is forfeit but if you live, he will die at peace.

You are silent as you dress, preparing to stand before the emperors, and the guards soon arrive to take you away. The door is opened, your hand maid crying which makes your stomach twist, but you keep your head high. You want to speak to Marcus before you’re dragged off so you step towards his door. He’s standing then and you reach between the bars to touch him. “I love you. I don’t regret a thing.” You promise, “I love you, Marcus.” You promise and the guards drag you away, making you cry out as Marcus says “I love you too. Always.” You keep your head high as you’re escorted through the halls until you are taken outside. You frown and that frown turns into panic when you approach a large platform. People gathered in the piazza with the emperors sat down in their thrones. “Ah, welcome.” Geta says your name as you are shoved onto the platform and your hands shake but you grab your robes. Caracalla walks over to you, gripping your chin, “you betrayed me. You let him touch you. I cannot have a whore for empress. I could never confirm my heir is mine. You’ll suffer for your affair. I must show Rome that we do not allow such insolence.” Caracalla hisses and you know that this is the moment you die. You refuse to let them see that you’re terrified and you are pushed to kneel after your hands are tied behind your back. You keep your shoulders back as the soldier pulls his sword from his side and you hear a cry. Turning your head, you see Marcus being dragged to the side of the platform and your strength dissolves. He is to be killed as well. “Ah, General. Please watch. You’ll see what we do to traitors to the empire. Stand there and watch her die. You’ll soon be joining her.” The emperors laugh and you have tears running down your cheeks as Marcus tries to get out of the grip of the five men holding him. “I love you.” You mouth just as the sword is brought down and it all goes black.

“Nooooooo!” Marcus howls in rage as your head is separated from your body and he struggles against the men, breaking free with one hand and grabbing for the swords they carry. Tears sting his eyes and all he can think about is avenging you. Killing the emperors that have ordered your death. “Bastard!” He shouts out, the people silent as they watch the commotion. “She was never yours! She never agreed to marry you! You kidnapped her from her home!” He shouts, wanting the people to know exactly why you had died. How you had been brought to Rome. The soldiers holding him had fallen back after he had grabbed the sword. “She was not yours to claim! She was mine!”

Caracalla raises his hand, telling the soldiers to come forward to surround Marcus as he swings the sword. "I sent for her. She was mine from the moment my soldiers left Rome to find her. She was my key to securing her lands. You had orders and you failed. You fucked her, claimed her as yours, without permission and the gods will punish you. Who wants their emperor to be justified?" Caracalla asks the crowd who cheers, "the people want their emperor to be happy. And you know what would make me happy? Seeing you dead beside her. Traitors in life and in death." He claps his hands and the soldiers move closer to Marcus.

Marcus knows he will die, that is his fate, especially now that you are already walking through the Elysian Fields. Instead of battling the men who have been ordered to kill him, he drops his sword. “Rome will consume you.” He predicts. “She will rise against you and you will fall.”

Caracalla scoffs and Geta rolls his eyes while the soldiers grab Marcus and drag him to the stage. He kneels down, jaw clenched in defiance, and he growls, "fuck the emperors." His last words before the sword comes down and his head rolls on the floor moments later. The emperor grins, reaching down to grab his head, blood dripping onto the floor. "May everyone know that this is what Rome does to traitors. Even a General and a Princess are not exempt from the hand of the law." Caracalla declares and the crowd is silent. General Marcus Acacius is dead. The Roman Empire is crumbling.

****

All his life, Marcus has awoken with the knowledge that he has walked these roads before. It had been present every day, even if he could not articulate it. The sense that he had smelled that scent before, or tasted that fruit is always hanging on the edge of his consciousness. The nagging sense of déjà vu that had plagued him. His grandmother had called him an old soul, one who had lived lives before and it makes sense, considering he was named after a Roman general who had betrayed his emperors for love.

You huff as you drag your suitcase up the steps to the hotel your best friend had booked for her wedding. Of course she had to get married in Rome. Her husband-to-be is from the city. She had met him during her semester abroad and now years later they are getting married. You had flown over to Italy to be her maid of honor. You take a break and wipe your brow, your dress taking up a lot of space in your case, and you inhale deeply as you drag your case up the stairs to the entrance of the hotel. "Fuck me." You pant when you walk into the glass door, your brain starved of oxygen after your climb. You hear a chuckle behind you and you groan when a large hand reaches for the door to open it. You hear him ask you something in Italian, and you frown, head hurting, and you try to remember the phrases from the book you bought with you. "I'm sorry. I don't speak Italian." You say as you turn to look at him, and your eyes widen. Your embarrassment has been witnessed by the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

The second he sees the eyes of the pretty American, he knows that he’s met you before. In some life. It’s the instant quickening of his heart racing in his chest makes him smile. “Why would you come to Rome if you do not speak Italian?” He teases, reaching for your bag to take it for you.

He feels familiar and you wonder why, your heart pounding in your chest and your palms get sweaty as he carries your bag into the cool reception area. "Thank you. And for the record, I have been studying. Piacere di conoscerla." Your brow furrows in concentration and the man smiles at you, making you feel even more lightheaded. He grins, "pleasure to meet you." He replies in English and asks your name. You give it to him and his brow furrows, his stomach twisting. "My father is a historian. He loves Ancient Rome. He has come here many times on different trips for work." You confess, unsure why you are telling a stranger this but it feels like you've known him your entire life.

“Interesting.” Marcus licks his lips. “There was once a Princesa during the reign of Emperors Geta and Caracalla with that name.” He tells you. “Do you know the story?” He asks, wondering if you are here by chance, but he feels like you are not. “The lovers, right?” You ask, nodding and he smiles. “General Marcus Acacius fetched her from her home, stole her - from a bordering kingdom.” He had been told the story so many times as a child he can recite it by heart. “Falling for the strong and brave princesa during their journey to Rome where she was to marry Emperor Caracalla. They became lovers, star crossed, of course.” He frowns slightly, feeling an ache in his heart like he did every time this part of the story was told. “He watched as she was executed by the Emperor’s command after they were discovered but not before they had vowed to find each other in the next life.”

“How tragic and romantic. Put Romeo and Juliet to shame.” You quip and he nods, “their story was told many times during the fall of the empire. If a general wasn’t immune from punishment, then the plebeians certainly weren’t. The uprising began that day and Rome crumbled eventually.” He tells you and you nod, “I hope they found each other in another life.” You confess and tilt your head, “I still don’t know your name.” Just as the words leave your mouth, there’s footsteps down the stairs and your best friend squeals as she rushes towards you. “You’re here!” She hugs you and you hug her back, excited for her and her wedding. “And I see you have already met our best man. This is Marcus.” She says and you look at the man who helped you with your case. You murmur your name, “and Marcus. Like the story.” You offer him a soft smile and he winks at you, turning towards the groom to embrace him with a hug. “Antonio and Marcus served in the army together.” Lucille whispers as you turn to look at the men and you watch Marcus. He’s older than you, but he’s handsome. “And he’s single.” Your friend whispers and you roll your eyes, “don’t. I don’t want to be a cliché.” You whisper back and she giggles, taking your hand to drag you to the reception. She speaks in Italian to check you in and soon enough, a key is placed in your hand.

Antonio smirks as Marcus watches you walk away. “I didn’t tell you her name so it would be a surprise.” He chuckles, knowing how much Marcus enjoys telling that story of the Roman General. Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “I was watching her ass.” He tells his best friend honestly, who laughs. “She’s single.” He informs him. “Marnie made sure to tell me to pass that along.” He grins at Marcus. “I think she’s hoping that our two best friends hook up at her wedding.”

Marcus snorts, “you know I have that thing with Maria.” He says and Antonio rolls his eyes, “where you fuck her and she goes off to date men twice her age for money and she won’t commit? I love you, man, but you know that’s not serious. You want serious. You want the whole package.” Antonio knows his best friend and Marcus sighs, watching you as you walk towards the stairs with your case. “Get her case. Your rooms are next to each other. Marnie’s doing.” The groom holds his hands up and Marcus snorts but follows his direction. “Can I get your bag?” He asks and you nod, “I’m not built for this. We have elevators as big as a bathroom in the States.” You joke and Marnie beams as she looks between you. “Go settle in. We have a welcome dinner at eight and tomorrow it’s a spa day before the rehearsal dinner.” She says and you nod, hugging her before you make your way upstairs, followed by Marcus who carries your case. “What have you got in here? Bricks?” He teases and you giggle, “a girl has to be prepared for anything.” You tease and step onto the floor where your room is. You look at the numbers until you find it, placing the key card against the lock. “Thank you for carrying my case.” You say to Marcus after he places your case down in your room, his chest heaving a little and you get a little lost in his dark eyes. “You’re welcome, princesa.” He teases and your stomach lurches, your heart pounding at the nickname. “Thank you, General.” You tease, reminded of the story. His eyes widen a little and he reaches for his key card. “Turns out I’m next door so if you need anything, just knock.” He says and you nod, “thanks again.” He shuts your door and you slump down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face. Maybe coming to this wedding alone wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Marcus has already unpacked his tuxedo hanging up and he sighs, feeling restless. He can hear you moving around next door and he decides to go see if you would like to sightsee with a translator. He feels drawn to you and Antonio is right, his arrangement with Maria isn’t satisfying. He needs to know if the connection he feels to you is real. He checks his hair and feels like his stomach is twisting as he knocks on your door.

You had showered and gotten changed into a sundress. The Italian sun is still hot and you are surprised by the knock on your door. You walk over to it, opening it and your heart thumps when you see Marcus standing there. “Hi.” You offer softly and he rubs the back of his neck, “hi. I, uh, I wondered if you wanted to see some of the sights. I know you’re going to be busy with wedding stuff but I have a friend who does tours and I wanted to show you Rome.” Your eyes widen at the gesture and he falters, “or not. If you’re busy.” You shake your head, “no. I’d love to. Let me just grab my purse.” You step back to grab your things and make sure you have your room key then you step into the hall with Marcus.

Marcus smiles as he guides you towards the stairs. “It has been a long time since I have walked the ruins as a tourist.” He explains. “I am an archeologist. So this is my passion and my job.”

“Wow. You know your stuff.” You grin, excited to see the sights with someone who knows so much about the ruins. You make your way downstairs and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you exit the hotel and make your way down the stairs where you met Marcus. “No need for a gym with these steps.” You joke as you make your way down and Marcus chuckles, “we are a city of walkers but we do have quicker ways to get around.” He guides you over to his Vespa and your eyes widen, “I’ve never - this would be my first time.” You confess and Marcus opens the seat to grab two helmets. “You’ll be safe. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” You nod and he places the helmet on your head, buckling it under your chin and you bite your lip at the feel of his hands on your skin.

Marcus feels his skin tingling when he touches you and once your helmet is in place, he smiles as he turns to climb on. “Wrap your arms around me, Princesa.” He instructs. “I would let you ride in front of me, but your pretty dress would fly up.” He’s smirking slightly, but you just nod and take a moment to settle in behind him, the weight of your arms comforting around his stomach. “I will keep you safe.” He promises.”

For some reason, his words warm you to your core and you believe him. He revs the engine and pulls away after kicking the kickstand up and you’re soon riding through the streets of Rome. Your eyes are wide at the sights and you wrap your arms around him a little tighter, letting him take you where he wants to go. You’re happy to be with him, feeling a sense of comfort like you’ve never known before.

American tourists have movies about Roman holidays so Marcus might zip through traffic a little more recklessly than he might have normally. If only to feel you squeeze him a little tighter, turning back to see your eyes wide as you take in the city he loves. Smiling like you are flying through the air. Perhaps a little romantic dreaminess in your eyes, like it’s something out of a fairy tale. He takes you around to all the famous sights. Skirting along the edges of the cars as he makes his way to the best examples of Ancient Rome, his own dig site.

You watch the city pass by until Marcus comes to a stop in an area that’s fenced off from the public. “Are we allowed to be here?” You ask, glancing around as he swings his leg over the bike and helps you over, reaching up to unbuckle your helmet. “We are allowed to be here” is all he says and you trust him as he locks the bike and takes your hand to guide you to the padlock. He pulls the key from his pants and opens it, escorting you inside the restricted area. “What is this?” You ask and he flicks on some of the overhead lamps, showcasing the dig site. “My latest project.” He says and your eyes widen, “wow.”

He watches as you look around curiously, the building had been built to protect the site and he smiles as he motions to the half excavated site. “We are right outside what would have been Geta and Caracalla’s palace.” He explains motioning to the center of the sight. “This area was their piazza, the place where they showed Rome their treachery.” He frowns slightly. “This is the spot where the general and the princesa were executed.” He hops down into the pit, to the stone platform and offers his hand to you to help you down. “Eventually, the people of Rome would have both emperors killed right here as well.”

As soon as he says the words, a sense of dread washes over you and you shiver, your head aching as a flash of a crowd looking up at you hits you. “Are you okay?” Marcus asks and you inhale deeply, nodding as you look at the site. “Yeah. Just - a lot of history to take in.” You confess and take his hand, letting him help you down to inspect the site he had excavated.

He wonders if you feel it, if the icy fingers of dread had inched down your spine. If you remembered like he had. People would think that he was crazy if he told them the truth. “We found the site a year ago.” He murmurs, his voice not carrying very far as he crouches down. “But we have uncovered so much. Look, there is a sword right here.” The first layers of the artifact have been uncovered but removing and cataloging the items had not been possible before he had closed the site for the wedding. His team would not work without him there.

You kneel down beside him, eying the sword that looks so familiar. “Incredible. Did - did you feel that? The dread?” You ask, voicing his question as the feeling hovers over you like this is an area you’ve been to before. “It’s so strange. I feel like I know this place.” You confess and glance down at the sword, “this sword feels familiar but it can’t be. It’s just my mind.”

“I feel it.” Marcus admits quietly, reaching for your hand and guiding it towards the relic. “I want to see something.” He murmurs, hoping you get the same flashback he does when he touches the sword.

Your fingertips touch the sword and you gasp, seeing an image of Marcus but he’s wearing armor, a scar on his face, and he is holding the sword, standing beside two men with blonde hair. “Oh my God.” You choke and he tilts his head, “what did you see?” He asks and you swallow, your throat dry. “You. But - but you’re wearing armor. Ancient armor. You’re standing next to two men with blonde hair.” You reveal, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Princesa.” Marcus murmurs, reaching out and cupping your cheeks as he turns towards you. “I have been looking for you for lifetimes.” He confesses softly. “Always looking, never finding you, until now.” He frowns slightly and sighs. “I was killed, right after you were, right here. Our bodies next to one another.” He sees the confusion in your eyes. “We are fated to be together again, since we were star-crossed so many years ago.”

You are confused, trying to process his words and the images become clearer. You and Marcus knew each other, loved each other, in another life. You can see the love in his eyes despite knowing each other for a few mere hours. You lean closer, “Marcus. Finally.” You murmur, pressing your forehead against his as it all becomes clearer. You have found him. Your love. “This is crazy.” You confess, gripping his wrists but you don’t love his hands, “you don’t even know me as I am now.”

“It does not matter.” Marcus hums. “I know your soul, just as you know mine.” His thumb brushes gently over your cheekbone. “I have waited so long to see you again, to kiss you once more.” All his relationships have never worked because they weren’t you, his princesa.

You can’t believe this is happening but it feels so right, like this is what you’ve been waiting for. All those relationships that fell apart because they weren’t him. You can’t help it. You surge forward to press your lips to his and you immediately feel like you’re home when his lips touch yours. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before.

Marcus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer and thanking the gods that he had been right. That he had trusted his instincts. “Princesa,” he growls, sliding his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

You let go of his wrists and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his body closer to yours. His tongue sliding against yours and you whimper into his mouth, flashes of the time you spent with Marcus in a past life go through your mind and make you fall in love with a man you knew all those lifetimes ago.

Marcus kisses you again and again, learning how you like to be kissed now and it fuses with the memories he has carried for his entire life. Breaking away to look into your eyes as he pants slightly. “I am sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I wish I could have protected you then.”

You shake your head, pecking his lips. “Don’t. There’s nothing you could’ve done. We were destined for death and we are here now. We are safe. We can be together. I- I live in the States and you’re here but…one of us will have to move. I do love pasta.” You confess with a smirk, “and Italian men.”

Marcus chuckles softly and lifts his chin to kiss your forehead. “How do you feel about living in an apartment that overlooks the old city?” He asks. “My place is only a few blocks from here. I’m staying in the hotel because of the wedding party and being the best man.”

“I’d say I better start learning Italian.” You grin, knowing your parents won’t understand your move but you do. There’s no way you’re going to be parted from him now. Marcus chuckles and it warms you. “We should be heading back for the welcome dinner.” He says after he checks his watch and you nod, letting him help you stand up and you glance around the place where you were killed all those years ago. He escorts you back to his Vespa and you are back in the hotel after he speeds through the small streets of the city. He holds your hand as you enter the hotel and you are soon outside your rooms, “I better get ready for the dinner.” You murmur, leaning against him and you kiss his jaw.

“You will look gorgeous, princesa.” He murmurs, turning his head and kissing your lips again. “Although I cannot say you look better than the bride, it will be bad manners.”

You giggle, “no. She will look gorgeous. God, I want to invite you into my room but we don’t have time.” You whine, sliding your hands down his linen shirt, “later. Later I want you in my bed, baby.”

Marcus hums in agreement. “Tonight.” He agrees. “No one will interrupt us. I can relearn how you taste.” He growls, leaning in and nibbling on your earlobe. “I can recall it even now, princesa.”

Anyone who could hear you would think you’re crazy but to you and Marcus, this is very real. You whimper and step back before you allow yourself to give in and forget about the reason that you’re here. You shower and dress in one of the pretty dresses you’d packed for the wedding events, grabbing your clutch, and you hear a knock on your door. You open it and see Marcus standing at your door, looking devastatingly handsome in his jacket with his shirt slightly unbuttoned. “God, this isn’t fair. Do you think they’d miss the best man and maid of honor if we went missing?” You tease, trailing your eyes along his form.

His eyes flash in amusement and even though he wants to push you back into the room and strip you out of the at dress, he extends his arm. “It’s an Italian wedding.” He jokes. “They expect it.” You beam at his offer and immediately step forward and wrap your hand around his arm. “Tell me, princesa, do you still like to ride horses?”

You nod, “I grew up riding horses. Felt instantly drawn to it and now I know why.” You squeeze his arm and he helps you downstairs to the welcome dinner full of family and friends. Marnie and Antonio see you and Marcus, their eyebrows raised as you hold hands and Marnie giggles, “I didn’t think you two would hook up that fast. But it seems my matchmaking skills have surpassed my expectations.” She teases and you grin, looking at Marcus, “it feels like I’ve known him forever.” Marcus winks at you and your friends beam until they are dragged away and Marcus takes you to the bar to get you a drink.

Marcus keeps his hand on your waist possessively as he turns towards the bartender. “What kind of drink would you like, princesa?” He asks, making you smile at the nickname. “Whatever you will have.” He nods and loves how you trust him with choosing for you. “Renato Ratti Barolo Serradenari.” He tells the bartender before he leans into your ear. “It reminds me of the wine we drank while we were traveling to Rome.”

You grin, “we drank a lot of wine during that journey and I seem to remember you drank it from me instead of a cup many times.” You smirk and he chuckles, his hand sliding a little lower, “best way to drink it.” You giggle and the bartender sets your glasses down just as a hand curls around Marcus’s arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you, lover.” She coos, leaning in towards Marcus.

“Maria.” Marcus lifts a brow as he turns towards the statuesque blonde. “I didn’t think you could come?” She had claimed that she was too busy to accompany him, and now she is here when he would want her anywhere else. “My schedule cleared.” Her bright smile is stiff, having been canceled on by her current conquest. It’s frustrating and she needs the comfort of Marcus before she starts her search for a wealthy man to marry again. “Now I’m all yours for the weekend.” She promises, dropping a kiss on the edge of his mouth before turning towards you. “Oh! Who is your little friend?” The first part of the conversation was in Italian, but now she switches to English for your benefit.

Marcus says your name, “she’s the maid of honor and my date.” He confesses, “the love of my life and I will be spending tonight with her. I’m glad you could make it Maria but tonight, I have my princesa.” He squeezes your waist and you lean into him, giving her a smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You don’t feel threatened, knowing Marcus wouldn’t continue his relationship with her now that he’s found you again.

“The love of your life?” She huffs in confusion, not expecting him to so blatantly turn down her company. “Princesa?” Her eyes narrow. “That nickname you moan every night in your sleep? This is her?”

Marcus nods, rubbing your hip, “it’s her. I have long dreamed of this beautiful creature and now she’s here. I am hers and she is mine.” He admits and your heart thumps, knowing this sounds crazy but you are a love story centuries in the making. You place your hand on his chest, “yours.” You promise and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

Maria is dumbfounded, unable to speak and she turns on her heel and walks away. He pulls you closer. “Apologies, princesa.” He murmurs softly. “I did not know she would show up, but I will talk with her and let her know that we are no more.” He gazes into your eyes lovingly. “No one else could ever capture my interest.”

You shake your head, "it's okay. We didn't even know this was possible until today. I cannot be angry with you for keeping company." You caress his chest, "and we know the truth. Everyone else is going to be confused." You remind him and he nods, knowing that the story is unbelievable. You are soon seated opposite each other at the welcome dinner and you stretch your leg out to caress his while everyone eats their dessert.

His dark eyes meet yours, smirking slightly as you trail your foot up his let and press against his crotch lightly. Despite the centuries apart, you are still bold and have no problem in taking what you want. He reaches down and squeezes your foot playfully while Antonio asks him a question that makes him look away from you.

Marnie grabs your attention, talking to you about the spa session for tomorrow and you half listen, watching Marcus speak to the groom until the bride nudges you. "What's up with your both? It's like you've known each other forever." She observes and you shrug, "it just feels right. Like I was meant for him." You see Marcus wink at you from across the table, caressing your foot. "Good. I thought he was perfect for you." You nod and smirk at Marcus, eager for him.

“Maria looked unhappy.” Antonio observes with a smirk. He’s never hidden the fact that he’s never cared for Marcus’s previous lover so he seems to be thrilled. “Just- don’t hurt her. Marnie will make me hurt you if you do.” He jokes, rolling his eyes, but Marcus snorts. “I would rather cut my own arm off.” He promises seriously. “She is precious and I will keep her heart safe.”

You feel bad but you are eager for the dinner to be over and not soon enough, it is. "Go. Go." Marnie orders when you hug her and you reach for Marcus's hand when you are finally free of maid of honor duty for the night. He smirks, guiding you through the crowd until you are walking up the stairs and you giggle when he slaps your ass.

He is eager to touch you again. To find out if the same things he had done to you so long ago still works. “You have no problem with the stairs now.” He teases, chuckling when you huff and roll your eyes.

You open your clutch, finding your keycard when you reach your door and you moan when he presses against you, his lips finding your neck and his hands on your hips. You lean back against him, tilting your head as you blindly try to unlock the door.

“Princesa, when was the last time you had a man touch you?” He doesn’t care that you’ve had other lovers, he just wants to make sure that he prepares you properly. He twitches against your ass and grinds against you. “Eaten your pussy like it is a luscious desert?”

You whimper at his words, "I had - my ex and I broke up a few weeks ago. It didn't work. I didn't know why but he wasn't you. I've been tested." You reassure him, "no one has ever made me feel like this and you haven't even touched me." You whine and grind back against him, the door finally opening with a beep.

“I’ll get tested.” He promises, sure that Maria wouldn’t give him something, but he will want to give you that reassurance. “This time I can wear a condom.” He guides you inside and spins you around to press you against the door as it closes. “Then I will spill inside you like I wanted to do so many times we were together in that life.”

You moan, "yes. So many times I wanted you to do it. Knock me up and claim me so he couldn't." You confess, your hands sliding up to push his jacket from his shoulders, your fingers immediately working on the buttons of his shirt when the jacket is on the ground.

He holds your chin with his two fingers and tips your head up to take his kiss, pouring himself into the way his mouth slots against yours. Pressing you into the door more firmly as he grabs your ass and pulls you up to allow your legs to wrap around his waist.

You wrap your legs around him and he turns, carrying you over to the bed, your heels dropping to the floor on the journey over and you moan when he lays you down. "I've missed this view." You tease while he shrugs off his shirt, exposing his chest.

“That bed in our tent, covered with furs to keep you warm.” He chuckles. “Although you preferred to wear me at night.” His hands slide under your dress to drag your panties down and peel them off your legs to toss away. “Wearing my tunics.”

You sigh in delight when his hands caress your legs after he tosses your panties over his shoulder. "You loved me in those tunics." You giggle and he nods, "I fucking did." You grin and his hands push your dress higher, "don't tease me, baby. I have waited many lifetimes for this moment."

“Not teasing.” He huffs. “Appreciating.” He reaches under your arm for the zipper to your dress. “We have all night. Nothing to stop us or come between us.” He reaches for the strap and drag them down to expose your tits to his delighted eyes. “Watching you bathe that first time made me ache. Wanted you then.”

You lift your hips so he can drag your dress off your body and you shiver in anticipation. "I would've taken you that night. I hated you for kidnapping me but also thought you were incredibly strong and handsome. I would've let you fuck me but I was pissed at you." You smirk until his hands find your tits, squeezing them to make you moan his name.

He loves that you’ve retained all your memories, or recovered them. Knowing that while you have to learn about each other now, you do know the people you used to be, the history you shared. “I was still denying myself.” He settles down between your thighs and presses his nose against your bare cunt. “No hair.” He hums, inhaling your scent with a grin. “But you still smell the same. Let me see if you taste the same.”

You can't believe how many memories are coming back to you when hours ago, you didn't know the man between your thighs existed. His tongue slides through your folds and you moan, closing your eyes as your fingers tangle in his hair.

He can almost smell the smoke from the camp fires as he licks into you. Tasting you again and twitching against the sheets of the bed. Groaning as he holds your thighs and pulls them apart even more to devour your cunt properly.

You lift your thighs a little higher, your hands cupping your tits as his tongue makes your mind go blank. "Fuck." You pant, "that's so good." You compliment him as his tongue slides through your folds like he's been there a thousand times and in a way, he has.

Marcus doesn’t hesitate to push his tongue inside you, remembering how much you had loved it and he grunts in approval when you whine in pleasure. Wanting to make you cum like this once more. His fingers dig into your thighs as he eats you ravenously.

His nose presses against your clit and you whimper, one hand coming down to run your fingers through his hair. He is pushing his tongue into you like a man starved and your thighs press against his head, wanting to keep him between your thighs.

He feels your stomach heave and he throws an arm over your waist to keep you pinned to the bed. Loving how responsive you are and desperate to cum you appear. Trying to roll your hips down to his tongue.

You haven't felt like this before and your body is so heated, overwhelmed by how he's making you feel. You moan, your chest heaving as he slides his tongue up to suck on your clit. "Oh God, yes!" You cry, your walls starting to flutter around his tongue.

Marcus growls into your folds, throbbing in need as you soak his mouth and chin. Loving how your thighs squeeze his head harshly while your back bows up.

He laps at you, working you through it, and you whimper, "fuck. You are so good. I need to see you, Marcus. Need to see you again." You plead, lowering your thighs from his face.

Marcus stretches tall and climbs off the bed so he can unbutton his pants. The suit he had worn didn’t require a belt and his shoes were toed off near the door. Leaving him to pull down his pants and boxer briefs, letting his hard cock spring free.

You groan, shifting onto your knees and after he kicks his pants aside, you shuffle closer as he stands at the foot of the bed. "Fuck. So thick." You moan and you grip his cock, leaning in to take his cock between your lips.

Marcus moans, reaching down and caressing your cheek, “still so damn eager.” He chuckles, eyes fluttering from the way your tongue presses against the sensitive head of his cock when you roll the foreskin down.

You moan at the salty taste of his cock as you take him deeper. You have memories now of doing this many times but right now, it’s your first time in this lifetime and you are eager to enjoy it.

He doesn’t rock his hips, letting you set your own pace and he admires the length of your lashes as your eyes flutter up at him. “So beautiful.” He coos, caressing your cheek again. “My princesa is beautiful in every lifetime.”

His words have you dripping and you start to rock your jaw, watching him until you move a little faster and you close your eyes in concentration. Your palms dig into the mattress as you keep yourself upright while you take his cock down your throat.

Marcus grits his teeth, enjoying the pleasure of your mouth, but he wants to be inside you. He wants to have your walls squeezing him tight as he makes you cum. “Good girl.” He hums, pulling back.

You whine when he starts to pull you off his cock, spit dripping down your chin, and he grabs your waist to shift you to lay down against the pillows. "Want to be inside you." He murmurs and caresses your leg, "let me grab a condom." He says and walks over to his bag, shuffling until he's walking back to the bed, kneeling on it as he opens the packet.

He knows that as soon as he gets his results back, he will be discarding the condom, but he needs to do this. He pinches the tip and holds himself while rolling the rubber down his length. “Dreamed about this.” He groans, leaning forward and kissing you again.

You cup his cheeks, your heartbeat in your ears as you watch him settle between your thighs. "I love you." You murmur, unable to believe you've been reunited like this. He shuffles closer and you gasp when he starts to push into you. "You okay, princesa?" He asks and you nod, "perfect. I feel perfect." You promise, wrapping your legs around him.

He groans, the way you squeeze him changing from the placement of your hips. You are hot and tight, perfect and he feels like he’s come home. “You are so wonderful, princesa.” He praises breathless as he starts to slowly pull back to surge forward again.

You let him rock into you, take control, and you caress his shoulders and back. “No scars.” You observe, “not battle hardened.” You murmur, sliding your hands down his chest.

He can’t tell if you are disappointed or pleased, but he continues to thrust, picking up the pace and smirking when you whimper. “Feel good, princesa?”

You nod, “so good. I’ve missed you so much.” You confess even though this morning you had no memory of him. Now, you can’t imagine your life without him. You try to rock up to meet his thrusts and you caress his skin, “I’m so happy you are unharmed.” You answer his unspoken question .

“Life is more complicated but easier.” He huffs, turning and scattering kisses over your shoulder. “We are free to love, to go where we wish.”

“I know. Imagine explaining the Internet.” You joke breathlessly and he chuckles against your skin, continuing to rock into you. “Fuck. And modern birth control. I got an IUD so no unexpected - I really thought that was going to happen to us back then.” You confess, “then I would’ve been killed.”

“It was not meant to be.” He presses his lips to yours again. “Maybe in this life.” He grinds into you, stealing your breath on a moan as he chuckles against your lips.

“We are together in this life.” You murmur against his lips and you moan, sliding your tongue against his as he rocks into you. It’s everything that’s been missing from your life and you love him. God, you love him. You whimper when he adjusts his hips and hits something delicious inside you.

“There?” He groans your name into your mouth and slides down to his elbows, pushing his arms under you because he needs to feel closer. It’s not enough, it might never be enough. He concentrates on that spot, wanting to see you fall over the edge and have a new memory of you.

You nod, your mouth falling open as he rocks into you and you pant, your walls fluttering around his cock. "Shit, baby. I - fuck. You're gonna make me-" You choke as you fall apart, clamping down on his cock and pulsing around him.

Marcus hisses, gritting his teeth while you soak him in your juices. Loving how you are coming apart for him. “Fuck, fuck.” He groans, trying to fuck you through it but his thrusts are harder.

You slide your hands down to his ass, squeezing, “cum for me, General. I want to see you cum.” You plead, groaning when his face screws up and he twitches inside you, spilling inside the condom. You slide your hands up his back and whimper, loving how he looks when he cums for you.

Marcus strains over you, working himself through it with a grinding circular motion of his hips until he is collapsing into you. “Fuck.” He pants. “Perfect, princesa, you are so perfect.”

You sigh, loving how he feels on top of you, your hands caressing his back as he presses you into the mattress. You feel complete, like you’re where you were always supposed to be.

****

“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest declares and you grin, looking at Marcus. His face is bright and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, spinning you to dip you as he smiles against your lips. The city of Rome as your background along with a beautiful sunset. Marnie and Antonio stand either side clapping and you kiss your husband. It may have taken many lifetimes but you and Marcus finally found each other again. No one, not even an emperor, can separate you now.

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius imagine #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii

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harryssyndrome · 2 days ago

Text

Hoax | h.s

summery: “don’t want no other shade blue but you. No other sadness in the world would do…”

based off this request. Thank you so much anon for this idea, this was so fun writing and I hope it’s something you were looking for. I tried to be as angsty as possible with a blend of cutesy sweet, hope it’s a perfect mix. Let me know in the comments? [thank you! mwah mwah mwah 💋]

Posted on: November 26th, 2024. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM. Like, comment & reblog are appreciated 💓Italics are past memories. Hope you lovelies enjoy this little big piece.

wc: 6.6k (oops🤭) || Masterlist 🤍

Tag-List: @fruity-harry @angeldavis777 @wheredidmyeyesgo @cherryloveshs | TAGLIST IS OPEN! || REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! 💌

The morning had started just like any other, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over everything, but YN barely noticed. She sat at the counter, her hands curled around a coffee mug, its warmth barely a match for the cold ache building inside her. The apartment felt empty, despite the soft hum of the city just outside the window. She could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on her, a silence that had grown more oppressive over the past few weeks.

Harry had been on tour for what seemed like forever now, and their communication had dwindled. What had once been late-night calls and stolen moments between sound checks had turned into rushed, distracted conversations, where he was either too busy or too tired to give her his full attention. YN had always known the demands of his career, had always been willing to share him with the world, but it was starting to feel like he was slipping further away from her.

She had tried to be understanding, tried to remind herself that this was just a phase—that he was only gone for a while, and they would find their way back to each other. But today felt different. Something in the air was charged with tension, a sense of dread that hung around her like a cloud. Harry had promised to call her during his break between rehearsals, and as the minutes ticked by, that sense of unease only grew. She hadn’t heard from him, not even a text to explain why.

When the phone finally rang, she grabbed it with an anxious breath, hoping for the reassurance she so desperately needed.

“Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice crackled through the phone, distant and strained. There was a tiredness in his voice that made her heart ache even more.

“Hi,” she replied softly, trying to keep her tone light, but the worry slipped out anyway. “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about me.”

Harry didn’t immediately answer, and YN could feel him shifting on the other end, perhaps looking for the right words, or maybe just gathering the energy to engage with her. “I didn’t forget,” he said after a beat, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “It’s just… things are hectic right now. You know how it is.”

YN frowned, her fingers tightening around her mug. She knew how it was. She knew that Harry’s tour schedule was demanding, that he barely had time to breathe, let alone talk to her. But it was different now. It had been different for weeks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I get it, Harry,” she said softly, trying to keep the frustration from her voice. “But it feels like we haven’t really talked in days. I feel like I’m losing you.”

The words hung in the air between them, thick with unspoken emotions. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to accuse him of pulling away, but she couldn’t ignore what was happening anymore. She missed him. She missed the way they used to connect, how they’d stay up all night talking about their dreams and fears, how they’d laugh until their stomachs ached. Now, it felt like all they did was talk about logistics and time zones. She wanted more than that.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, she thought he was going to apologize, that he would offer the comfort she so desperately needed. But instead, his voice grew colder, his words sharper. “You miss me? Maybe you miss the version of me that you had before all of this. But I’m not the same person anymore, YNN. I’m just tired. Tired of feeling like I’m constantly being pulled in a million directions.”

Her heart sank at his words, the finality in them hitting her harder than she had expected. “What does that mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s words came out in a rush, almost like he couldn’t stop them, as if they were coming from a place deeper than he intended. “It means that I don’t have the energy for this right now. I don’t have the energy to keep pretending that everything is fine when it’s not. And maybe I’m just tired of pretending that you’re not asking for more than I can give. Maybe I need space. Maybe we both need space.”

The words stabbed her. She felt them deep in her chest, each one like a dagger, twisting further with every breath. “Space?” she echoed, barely able to form the word, the hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hold it back. “I’m not asking for space, Harry. I’m just asking for you. For the person you promised me you’d always be.”

Harry didn’t respond right away, and when he did, his voice was tight, defensive. “Maybe that person isn’t here anymore, YNN. Maybe that’s what I’m trying to say.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. YN could hear the faint rustling of something on his end of the phone, the noise of people moving in the background, but it didn’t matter. The emptiness between them felt so loud, so unbearable. The connection that once held them together was fraying, thread by thread.

She swallowed hard, the tears welling in her eyes. “Fine,” she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I’ll leave.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. But the damage was done. The silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of Harry’s absence felt so heavy, so crushing, that she could barely breathe. The person she loved, the person she had given everything to, had just told her he was done. He was tired of her.

Before she could say another word, she ended the call. The click of the phone disconnecting felt like the final nail in the coffin, sealing whatever it was that they had left.

YN sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some foreign object. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her mind was numb, her thoughts tangled in confusion and hurt. The apartment, their shared space, felt so small now. It felt suffocating. Every corner of the place was a reminder of everything that had once been good, everything that was now falling apart.

Tears blurred her vision as she stood up from the counter. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t stay there. Not with him, not with the words he had just said. The love they had built felt like ashes, and she couldn’t breathe in the smoke any longer.

She started packing her things, her movements automatic, like she was on autopilot. Her hands shook as she threw clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched or if they were folded neatly. Nothing mattered in that moment except the urgent need to get away from the place that had once been home. She ignored the phone buzzing with messages, messages from Harry, apologizing, pleading with her to call him back. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not after the things he had said.

When she finished packing, she grabbed her bags and walked out the door. The apartment felt even emptier as she closed the door behind her. There were no more goodbyes, no more promises. Just the echo of his hurtful words ringing in her ears.

YN drove to her parents’ house in a daze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened, about how quickly their love had unraveled. She needed space to think. To breathe. To figure out how to move on from this. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

It wasn’t just a fight. It was something deeper. Something that couldn’t be fixed with apologies.

When she pulled into the driveway, she didn’t feel the relief she thought she would. Instead, the silence that had followed her from their apartment seemed to follow her here. Even the familiar sight of her childhood home didn’t offer the comfort it once had. It all felt distant. Empty. Just like her heart.

She stepped out of the car, closing the door behind her with a soft click. As she walked up to the front door, her phone buzzed again. She ignored it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. She couldn’t bear to see his name flashing on the screen. The man she loved had just shattered her heart into a million pieces, and she didn’t know how to pick them up.

The night had been a blur for Harry. The anger, the disappointment, the gnawing guilt in his chest from the argument with YN—it was all too much to bear. In the solitude of his hotel room, far from her, he drowned out the pain with alcohol. He knew he had messed up, knew he had hurt her with his words, but the overwhelming pressure of being on tour, the constant demand of being a public figure, and the exhaustion had driven him to the brink. He had never intended for it to escalate the way it did, but in his drunken haze, it all came crashing down.

Somewhere between the blurry shots and the endless stream of drinks, he found himself in a bar, surrounded by strangers, feeling more alone than he had in a long time. His phone was buzzing on the table, the screen lighting up with YN’s name flashing, but he didn’t pick it up. The coldness in his heart had become too unbearable, and he pushed her away instead of confronting the hurt he had caused. He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. He wanted to forget everything that had gone wrong.

And that was when Emily Ratajkowski had walked in.

They had known each other for years, casually friendly in the way celebrities often are when their circles overlap. Emily, ever the charmer, had greeted Harry with a friendly smile. They sat and talked, their conversation casual at first, just the usual small talk about work and life. But Harry, caught in his haze of regret, had let his guard down. The more they talked, the more the words flowed. In some strange way, it felt easy to talk to her—like she was a stranger he could confide in, someone who didn’t carry the same weight of their past, the years of intimacy and history he shared with YN.

It didn’t take long before the alcohol took its toll. Emily’s laughter had filled the air, and Harry had found himself leaning closer, her presence soothing in a way that made him forget the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, they were kissing. His mind screamed for him to stop, to think about YN, to remember everything he stood to lose. But in that moment, he didn’t. The guilt had been smothered by the fleeting comfort of the kiss, the escape from his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t remember much after that. The night blurred into incoherence, a jumble of laughter, flashes, and fleeting touches. Harry woke up the next morning, disoriented and groggy, the light filtering through the hotel room window far too bright. His phone was buzzing incessantly, and his stomach churned when he saw the series of missed calls and messages from YN. The weight of it all hit him like a wave, and for a moment, he just sat there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories.

Then, his phone lit up with an alert—a notification from a gossip website, and his heart dropped into his stomach. There, in front of him, were pictures of him and Emily Ratajkowski, the kind of photos Harry had spent years avoiding. They were kissing, their lips pressed together, captured in a moment of reckless abandon that Harry didn’t even fully remember. The headline was cruel: Harry Styles and Emily Ratajkowski—A New Romance in the Making?

His throat tightened as he scrolled through the photos, his mind racing. He didn’t remember kissing her. He didn’t remember anything about that night except the overwhelming sense of regret that now gripped him. He had ruined everything. The fragile thread holding him together seemed to snap in that moment. He had lost YN, and now the media would make sure the world knew it. His personal life was on full display, and all he could think about was how much he had fucked it all up.

Desperation began to rise in his chest, and without thinking, he began sending text after text to YN, each one filled with apologies, regret, and pleas for her to talk to him. But she didn’t answer. The silence on the other end was deafening.

Meanwhile, YN was in her parents’ house, sitting in the living room with the muted glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. The house, once a place of comfort and warmth, now felt suffocating. Her mother had been quiet ever since YN arrived, sensing the heavy tension in the air. She tried to comfort her daughter, offering tea, but YN couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight of the argument, of the harsh words Harry had said, sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.

But when the photos surfaced—when she saw Harry with Emily, their lips locked, the headlines flashing across her phone—her world shattered all over again. The room spun around her, and she felt like she was suffocating. The love she had poured into her relationship with Harry now felt like a cruel joke. She had trusted him. She had believed in him. And now this—this betrayal was too much to bear.

Tears blurred her vision, and she quickly turned away from her phone. Her mother noticed the change in her expression and asked softly, “YN, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I can’t do this,” YN whispered, choking on her tears. “I can’t keep doing this. I thought he loved me… but now… now I don’t know who he is anymore. It didn’t even take him a night to move on?”

Her mother hugged her tightly, murmuring comforting words, but YN couldn’t hear them. The pain of what she had seen—the public humiliation of it all—felt like a physical weight on her chest. She needed to get away. She needed to clear her head.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, her voice distant, as if she were speaking to herself rather than her mother.

Her mother nodded, understanding the need for space, and watched as YN stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapping around her like a blanket.

The lake stretched out before her, calm and unbothered by the storm raging inside her. Its surface shimmered faintly under the overcast sky, the golden light of the fading afternoon barely breaking through the thick clouds. The familiar sight of it— the way the trees reflected on the water, the distant sound of birds, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore-should have brought YN the comfort she was seeking. But all it did was make her chest tighten with a suffocating ache.

She had always come to this place for solace, even as a child. The lake by her parents' house was her sanctuary, a space where the noise of the world couldn't touch her. But now, as she stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself against the crisp autumn air, the silence was deafening. It wasn't peace she found here today. It was the echo of memories she had desperately tried to bury since she walked out of the home she had once shared with Harry.

Her boots crunched softly against the earth as she made her way closer to the water's edge, the damp grass soaking the hem of her dress. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine and earth. But YN didn't notice. Her mind was far away, replaying a reel of memories she wished she could turn off. No matter how much she tried to focus on the present, her past with Harry came rushing back to her, vivid and bittersweet.

She crouched down near the shore, her fingertips brushing against the cool surface of the water. As ripples spread outward, her thoughts drifted to another time, another version of herself-a happier one. She closed her eyes, and it all came rushing back as if she were still there.

It had been a summer evening, the sun setting in brilliant hues of orange and pink.

Harry had been sitting on the dock, legs stretched out, his feet just barely skimming the water. YN had been lying beside him, her head resting on his thigh as they shared a bottle of wine they had stolen from her parents' pantry. The lake had been their escape that summer, a place where the chaos of Harry's career and the pressures of the world seemed to melt away.

"This place is magic," Harry had murmured, running his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. His voice had been low, almost reverent, as he looked out at the water.

YN had tilted her head to glance up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that," she teased. "But you're not wrong."

He grinned, his dimple deepening as he looked down at her. "It's true, though. Don't you feel it? It's like... time stops here. Like nothing bad can touch us."

She had laughed softly, the sound blending with the gentle rustle of the trees.

"That's what l've always loved about this place. It's quiet. Peaceful. Away from everything."

Harry had hummed in agreement, his gaze softening as he studied her. "One day, YNN... one day l'd love to settle down somewhere like this. Away from the noise. Just us."

Her breath had caught at his words, her heart skipping a beat. "Just us?" she'd asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," he'd added, his lips twitching into a playful smile, "maybe not just us. I'm thinking a couple of little ones running around, maybe a dog... or two."

YN's heart skipped at his words, her stomach flipping in that way it always did when he hinted at their future. She laughed, nudging him playfully. "Little ones, huh? You planning on starting a family with me already, Styles?"

Harry grinned, his dimple showing as he leaned closer, the teasing glint in his eyes softening into something deeper. "Why not? I mean it, YNN. I'd love that. A house by the lake. Waking up every morning with you by my side. Teaching our kids how to fish or swim or whatever it is people do out here. It sounds perfect."

Her breath caught as she looked at him, the sincerity in his words tugging at something deep within her. "It does," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "It sounds perfect."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "You're perfect," he murmured, and before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

The world had faded away then, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of love and possibility.

“I wouldn’t want anything less than forever when it comes to you.”

His words had settled into her heart like a warm glow, and she had leaned in to kiss him, the taste of wine still lingering on his lips. In that moment, with the sun setting and the world quiet around them, she had believed him. She had believed in forever.

YN blinked, the memory dissolving as the present came crashing back. The lake was still, the air cold, and Harry wasn't there. Her chest ached as she stared at the dock, the image of them sitting there overlaying the reality of its emptiness. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his hand in hers, but it was all in her mind.

The betrayal burned anew, the image of him with Emily flashing behind her eyes.

How could he have said those things, painted that picture of their future, and then so carelessly let it all fall apart? How could he kiss someone else after everything they had shared?

How had they gone from that to this? How had the man who once promised her forever ended up kissing someone else? The image of Harry and Emily flashed in her mind again, sharper this time, and her stomach twisted. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to hold together the pieces of her heart that felt like they were falling apart.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything she had lost. The life she had envisioned with Harry-the house by the lake, the little ones running around, the forever they had dreamed of-felt like a distant, unattainable dream. And yet, no matter how much she wanted to hate him, to shut him out completely, her heart wouldn't let her. She still loved him, even now, even after everything.

YN sank down onto the grass, her knees pulled to her chest, tears streaming freely now. She thought of the countless nights they had spent talking about their dreams, their plans. The way Harry had once made her feel so safe, so sure of their love. And now, it all felt like a cruel joke, a dream turned nightmare.

"Why, Harry?" she whispered into the stillness. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.

She let herself cry then, the sobs wracking her body as she finally allowed herself to feel the full weight of her heartbreak. The lake bore silent witness to her pain, its surface rippling gently as if trying to offer her some semblance of comfort.

The lake, once her sanctuary, now felt like a graveyard for their love.

When she returned to the house, her heart felt heavy, each step laden with the weight of everything she was feeling. But it wasn't the emptiness of the house that grabbed her attention; it was the faint sound-the small, deliberate taps against the window. At first, she thought it was the rain playing tricks on her, the gentle taps against the glass. But when she heard it again-sharp and insistent-her breath caught in her throat.

Her mind didn't even have time to process it fully. She spun toward the window, her heart pounding in her chest. And there he was.

Harry.

He stood in the pouring rain, his face pale, his hair clinging to his skin. His clothes were soaked through, and his hands trembled slightly as he threw small pebbles at the window, as if trying to wake her from a nightmare she couldn't escape. She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. Was this real? Was this the same man who had hurt her so badly?

But then, she saw it in his eyes-the desperation. The raw vulnerability. The silent plea for forgiveness that spoke louder than words ever could. He was standing there, drenched, with nothing left to lose. He was a broken man, and in that moment, she could see that he knew he had ruined everything.

Before she could stop herself, she ran to the down to the front door, threw it open, and without thinking, rushed outside into the rain.

The rain fell in torrents, its relentless downpour drowning out all sound except for the beat of water against the ground. Harry stood before YN, drenched, his eyes wide with desperate urgency, a look of raw pain etched into every line of his face. His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil inside of him.

“YN…” His voice broke, as if the weight of her name was too much to bear. His hand reached out shakily, desperate to bridge the gap between them, but she pulled away slightly. He flinched, not from her rejection, but from the weight of his own guilt that seemed to pull him lower with every passing second.

“I—” He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but his words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to hurt you, YNN. I swear, I never thought—God, I was so drunk, so damn stupid. I don’t even remember what happened, but I know I messed up. I know I messed everything up.”

YN’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt her, how much his words still stung like a constant ache in her soul. But instead, she stood there, her breath coming in ragged bursts, staring at him as he trembled in the rain. She wasn’t sure whether it was the cold of the storm or the pain inside him that made him shudder, but it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret.

“You do remember, Harry,” she finally spoke, her voice shaking but strong. “You remember everything, even if you don’t remember that moment. You remember the things you said to me. You remember how you treated me. How you—” She stopped herself, not wanting to continue with the painful words. But the memory of his cutting tone, his dismissive words, echoed in her mind, taunting her, making her question everything they had ever shared. “I trusted you. I loved you. And you—you broke me.”

Harry’s eyes welled with unshed tears as he took a step toward her, this time not caring if she pulled away. He was beyond caring about the rain, beyond caring about anything except for the woman standing before him, the one person who had always been his everything.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, and she could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I know I broke you. And that’s the worst part of it. I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, YNN. You’re it for me, you always have been.” He reached for her again, but this time she didn’t pull away. His fingers brushed against hers, a tentative touch, as if he were afraid she might vanish the moment he let go.

“But I let my stupid insecurities, my stupid mistakes, cloud everything,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’ve never been more scared of losing someone than I am of losing you, and I couldn’t see that until now. I couldn’t see that you are the one I need. That it’s not the fame, it’s not the tour, it’s not anyone or anything else—it’s you, YN. You’re the only thing that matters.”

The words hung in the air like fragile threads, each one trembling with a rawness that made Ashley’s heart ache in ways she didn’t think possible. The anger, the hurt—it was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now there was something else too: hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all lost.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. She wanted to push him away, wanted to shout at him for what he had done, but when she looked at him—really looked at him—there was something so devastatingly human about him, standing there, shaking in the rain. He was broken, but there was sincerity in his apology, a plea that reached her heart in ways his words never had before.

“You don’t even understand what you’ve done to me, Harry,” she said, her voice quivering as she took a step back. “You think it’s just about what happened with her, with Emily? It’s not. It’s about everything that led up to that moment. It’s about the words you said to me, the way you dismissed everything we had, everything I gave you. It’s about how you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Harry closed his eyes, a silent tear slipping down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way, YNN. I never wanted you to feel like you weren’t enough. You’re everything to me. I’ve been an idiot, and I know I’ve hurt you, but please… don’t let this be the end for us. I can’t lose you. I just can’t… live without you. I can’t.”

The storm raged around them, but the silence between them felt deafening, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, everything unresolved. YN could feel the anger still bubbling inside her, but she also felt the pull of something deeper—the love she had for him, the love that she had thought was gone, but now seemed to flicker in her chest like a fragile flame.

She wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but something inside her was giving way.

“Harry, I…” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as her chest tightened painfully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you right now. I need time. I need space to figure this out.” She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes as the tears finally spilled over, mingling with the rain. “I don’t know if I can go back to who we were. You hurt me too much.”

He stepped forward again, his hand reaching for her, trembling with the force of his desperation. “Please, YN. I’ll do anything. I’ll give you all the space you need. I’ll be patient, I swear. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But don’t walk away from me. Please.”

She didn’t respond immediately. The storm had drowned out every thought, every hesitation in her mind, but there was still one thing she knew for certain: she couldn’t let him go. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. Not when her heart was still so tangled up in him, so unable to let go of the person he had once been to her.

“I need time,” she repeated softly, her voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “I need to think, Harry. Please, just… just go inside. I can’t—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, not without breaking apart completely.

Harry nodded, his face a picture of heartbreaking understanding. His heart was in pieces, but he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to prove that he could make things right. Without another word, he turned toward the house, slowly, unwilling to leave her in the storm but knowing that he had to respect her need for space.

YN watched him go, her heart heavy in her chest, torn between love and hurt, between forgiveness and anger. The rain continued to pour, and as she stood there, feeling the cold seep into her bones, she wondered if they would ever find their way back to each other—or if this was the beginning of the end.

The night had felt like an eternity. Each minute stretched on, filled with haunting thoughts and the pounding rhythm of YNs heart. Her mind was tangled in knots, the anger still burning bright, but beneath it all, there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t deny: the love she still had for Harry. It was the kind of love that had once felt so pure, so easy, but now felt fractured, jagged, like trying to hold onto a shattered glass piece that was bleeding into her heart.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. The past few days, the pain, the betrayal, the anger—it all swirled together in a mess that made her restless. Harry’s words from the night before—the desperate, raw apology—replayed over and over again in her mind, like a broken record. And yet, each time she thought of it, the hurt crept back in. She had tried to push it away, tried to convince herself that she could ignore it, but the reality was that she couldn’t. Not when the memories of their love, of their happy moments, still clung to her like the scent of his cologne.

But it wasn’t just the hurt she was feeling. There was something else, something deeper, something that felt too real to ignore. She couldn’t escape the way her heart still responded to Harry, no matter how hard she tried.

As the morning light began to filter through the windows, YN could no longer stay in the silence of her room. She had to see him. She had to confront everything that had happened and, maybe—just maybe—find a way to heal. But even as the desire to see him grew stronger, there was still that gnawing uncertainty. Could she really trust him again? Could she really forgive him for what had happened?

The house was quiet as she made her way down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps echoing in the otherwise still air. The soft hum of the morning felt foreign against the heaviness that weighed on her shoulders, but she ignored it, pushing forward. When she stepped outside, the cold hit her like a rush, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.

The lake was quiet, still as glass, the air thick with the faint scent of damp earth and fresh water. And there, sitting on the grass at the edge of the lake, was Harry. His posture was slumped, his shoulders drooped, as though the weight of the world was resting on him. The sight of him in this state, so broken and vulnerable, pulled at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

He looked so small, so lost.

For a moment, YN stood there, watching him. She wasn’t sure what to do, what to say. But as she watched him, she realized that she couldn’t stay away. Not anymore. She had to speak. She had to let him know how much he had hurt her, but also how much she still cared, despite everything.

Her footsteps were quiet on the soft earth as she made her way toward him. Harry didn’t look up immediately, but she could see the slight twitch of his head as if he felt her presence. His face was blank, his eyes staring out at the water, but there was something in the way he held himself that spoke volumes.

YN stopped just a few feet away, standing still as the silence stretched between them. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, palpable, like a heavy fog.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. The silence, the uncertainty. She had to break it.

“I don’t even know where to start, Harry,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the rawness of the moment. “You hurt me. You really hurt me. And I don’t know if I can ever forget what you said to me. What you did to us.”

Harry flinched, as if each word she spoke cut through him. He finally lifted his head, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was guilt in those eyes, raw and undeniable. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, YNN. I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to explain how much I regret everything. I was angry, and I was drunk, and I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his hands shaking as he clenched them into fists at his sides. “I never meant to hurt you. Not like that. You’re everything to me, YNN. You always have been.”

YN took a deep breath, her chest tight with the conflicting emotions. She wanted to stay angry, to protect herself from the pain he’d caused, but she couldn’t deny that his words, his remorse, were hitting something deep inside her. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was a start. She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw how broken he was. He was a man who had made a mistake, but he was also a man who still cared for her.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to live in the hurt and the anger. I want to move past this, but I need to know that you’ll never do this again. I need to know that you’re willing to fight for us.”

Harry’s eyes welled up, the emotion overwhelming him. He reached out then, taking her hand gently, almost like he was afraid she might pull away. “I swear to you, YNN. I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. I’ll spend every single day proving to you that you’re worth more than anything, more than the stupid mistakes I’ve made. You mean everything to me.”

YN’s breath caught in her throat. It was impossible to ignore the depth of his words, the rawness in his voice. But it wasn’t just the words that got to her; it was the sincerity in his eyes, the vulnerability that he rarely showed anyone, let alone her.

She stepped closer to him, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. She had been so angry, so broken, but looking at him now, she realized that she couldn’t just walk away.

“I want to believe you, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I really do. But I need time. I need time to heal, to trust you again.”

Harry’s face softened, relief flooding through him. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here, every step of the way. I’ll prove to you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it.”

And in that moment, everything felt a little bit clearer. The storm inside her had not fully subsided, but the clouds were beginning to part, and the sun was starting to peek through. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and in one slow, careful motion, she placed her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart under her palm was a reminder of how much he still cared.

“I’m willing to try,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try if you promise me that you’ll never let me go again.”

Harry’s eyes shone with tears, and he pulled her into his arms, his hands cupping her face gently as he kissed her forehead, his lips brushing softly over her skin. “I promise you, YNN. I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I love you.”

YN closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her. She hadn’t been sure if she could forgive him, if she could ever move past the hurt. But standing here in his arms, feeling his heart beat against hers, she realized that love wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always simple. But it was worth fighting for.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain. The future was still unclear, but for the first time in a long time, they both had hope.

They’ll be alright.

224 notes · View notes

monamipencil · 2 days ago

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i have never heard of self respect or feminism or women's rights. like wym??? i dont know them. i only know this man. anna, this was so fucking hot??? grrrrr. im losing my mind here

annotations;

The only communication between you two is texts asking the other to come over. To fulfill each other's desires through a quick and hard fuck.

fuck, that's so toxic but so hot

But with Joshua, he doesn’t even begin till he’s made you cum. The gratification he gives you doesn’t start with his cock inside you. It begins with his mouth on your cunt, his fingers inside your wet hole. The chivalry he displays while he fucks you in your bed is unfortunately the only way you are able to witness it.

😌 im just a girl <3

Outside of your late nights with him, he doesn’t contact you, or even try to have a conversation with you. And yet you still fell for him.

grrrrrr, this is hitting home

He doesn’t care that he’s promised that this would be the last time, he doesn’t care that you want to better your self.

feminism and self-respect, who? ain't never heard of them

Before you can even register whats happening, you feel him fully sheath himself inside you.

oh fuck, im a whore for dubcon

Joshua’s hands come down to slap your ass harshly, leaving large red hand prints against your supple skin.

🥴🥴 grrr, rough josh can get me

“Joshua please, don’t cum inside me,” you beg him, but he just chuckles at your pleas. “Be a good girl for me and just take what I give you,”

fuck???? omg

His other hands is pushing your face into the pillow with so much force that you genuinely don’t believe that you are able to move from where you lay.

yes. im tweaking here,

“I’ll text you the next time I want to come over,” Joshua says when he’s fully dressed, pulling you into a deep kiss before leaving.

ok fuck. does that hurt? yes. do i still want it? fuck yes

It doens’t matter how many times you tell him that “this is the last time”, Joshua always get what he wants.

RAHHHHHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅

Come Thru

" you make me wanna come thru quarter after two just to put it down on you"

✧ pairing: joshua hong x female!reader ✧ wordcount: 1.7k ✧ genre: toxic fwb situation, slight angst, smut (mdni 18+)

✧ reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

✧ summary: your fwb joshua, comes over despite your half-assed protests. you arrangment is over, but one last time won't hurt, right? ✧ tags: non-idol!au, fwb! joshua, toxic!joshua, afab!reader, few smau texts, joshua is an asshole and reader lets him. ✧ warning/smut tags: DUBCON, coercion, unprotected p in v sex, degradation, slapping, groping, fingering, creampie. ✧ note: i recommend you don't take the dubcon and coercion warning lightly, if this isn't your cup of tea do not read. minors plz do not even try, i am watching. joshua is written to be an asshole in this fic. i also want to preface that i don't view joshua in this way irl, this is purely fiction. don't be like reader irl, this is made up plz. thank u to @junkissed and @okiedokrie for beta-reading ♡. also i had to ai generate an expanded version of this pic for the header, fyi. -> i have been in a joshua brain rot for the past 3 months, so this is the cause for this fic :p. lmk if u like darker themed fics! see u soonest - anna !

A part of you is reluctant to open the door, whilst the other part is begging you to give him one more chance. One more chance to kiss him, to feel him against your skin, to hear him say your name.

There hasn’t been a time where you’ve denied Joshua’s need, allowing him to use your body in the ways he sees fit. But it’s different now, and that difference is the fact that you and Joshua don’t see eye to eye on the current status of your “relationship”.

But you let him in anyway, you allow him to feel you completely, even when you know it's wrong. You know it’s wrong to do these things when you’re desperately in love with him and you know he doesn’t reciprocate those feelings. The only communication between you two is texts asking the other to come over. To fulfill each other's desires through a quick and hard fuck.

“Fuck, it's cold,” Joshua mutters, rubbing his arms to create some type of warmth as you open the door, “what took you so long?”

“Then go home,” you roll your eyes, moving over to let him pass through the door despite the fact you told him to go home.

“I don't wanna, I've missed you,” Joshua smiles at you, not with affection but just because he’s pleased at the fact that you allowed him to come over.

“Why are you here, Shua?” you ask him, your arms crossing in front of your chest as you feign annoyance.

“You know why,” he says, eyes piercing yours as his expression turns serious.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you sigh, but your feet move towards you bedroom anyways while Joshua follows suit.

Despite your verbal protest, you can’t help but fall into his trap. Blaming it on how handsome he is, how soft his voice gets when hes with you, and especially because he knows how to fuck you right.

In your past relationships, sex never felt good, it was mostly just you going through the motions. Your partners finishing and leaving you to lie there sticky and displeased. But with Joshua, he doesn’t even begin till he’s made you cum. The gratification he gives you doesn’t start with his cock inside you. It begins with his mouth on your cunt, his fingers inside your wet hole. The chivalry he displays while he fucks you in your bed is unfortunately the only way you are able to witness it.

Outside of your late nights with him, he doesn’t contact you, or even try to have a conversation with you. And yet you still fell for him.

You feel his arms snake around your waist as the two of you head to your bedroom. There’s a feeling in your stomach that you can’t pinpoint. A feeling of guilt mixed with a bit of excitement.

His lips move down your neck and you can’t help but lean back against his chest as he shuts the door. Strong arms pulling your waist in tighter as he leaves small bruises along your skin.

Your body feels hot. All rational thoughts have left your head the moment he touched you. His hands start to move, groping at your chest, the flimsy material of your sleep wear allowing him to feel you despite the barrier. Your nipples hardening against his fingertips and he moves your head to the side, pulling you into a deep kiss.

His dominant hand moves down from your chest, across your stomach and into your sleep shorts.

“Why aren't you wearing underneath?” he mumbles against your lips.

“It's too hot,” you respond before kissing him again.

Finding your clit, he rubs circles against your sensitive bud. Rubbing and playing with you until your legs start to shake. The makeout ceases as your too overwhelmed by pleasure, your mouth open yet still against his lips as you moan out his name.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut for me aren’t you, baby,” He curses, placing a finger inside your dripping cunt.

He continues to play with you, his finger moving in and out of your tight pussy. Your walls are pulsing as he begins to add a second and then a third. The coil in your stomach starts to tighten as Joshua speeds up his ministrations.

“I'm close,” you whimper, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on reaching your orgasm.

“Still so fucking tight,” Joshua whisper in your ear, feeling the way you clench around his fingers, "no matter how many times I put my cock into you."

It all comes to an abrupt stop and you whine at the loss of his touch. His pupils are dilated, eyelids lowered with lust. He doesn’t allow you to whine for him any further, carrying your body towards the bed before dropping you. Your body hits the mattress and it bounces underneath your weight.

“Fuck me, please,” you beg him, your eyes watching the way he removes his clothes.

You follow his actions, removing your soiled sleep shorts and thin tank top. Your tits bouncing as you throw your shirt onto the floor, not caring where it lands. The only thing on your mind is Joshua’s cock and the feeling of him being inside you.

His eyes wash over your frame, his adam’s apple bobbing as he takes your figure in. He thinks your so sexy, with the way you stare at him so needily, your legs already spread for him. He doesn’t care that he’s promised that this would be the last time, he doesn’t care that you want to better your self. To stop this arraignment. He’s addicted to the feeling of your tight pussy, how it milks his cum and leaves him wanting another round.

Hovering over top of you he aligns his dick with your entrance, rubbing the fat tip of his cock against your wet slit. The sounds coming from his actions are unholy, but to him the feeling is like heaven on earth.

“You're soaking,” he groans, applying pressure to your clit with the tip of his length.

Your eyes roll back, your walls pulsating around nothing, all you want is for him to be inside you. But you stop him for a moment, wondering why he hasn’t put on a condom.

“Do you have a condom?” you place your hand against his chest, pushing him back slightly.

“No, it's fine, we’ve done it without one before,” he shrugs.

You sit up a little and roll your eyes at him. Sure you’ve done it without a condom before, but now that this arrangment has lost it’s exclusivity, you don’t trust Joshua’s words. You know that he’s probably seeing other people.

“Joshua, fuck, are you trying to get me pregnant?” you sigh, and he does the same.

“But it feels better without it,” he whispers in your ear before pushing you down onto the bed again.

Before you can even register whats happening, you feel him fully sheath himself inside you. A moan escapes your lips in surprise and also pleasure. You don’t want him to fuck you like this, but the pleasure is too hard to ignore. The feeling of his naked cock inside you causes you to squeeze around him tighter.

“I told you, it feels better without one,” he mutters, pushing your legs into your chest, folding you in half. His upper body against you, your legs essentially locked in place.

“Joshua please,” your eyelids droop with pleasure. Your hands moving to grip his biceps as you allow him to fuck you raw.

Joshua groans from above you, his hips snapping against your cunt, balls slapping against the skin of your ass. You can see the clear outline of his cock poking out from your lower stomach.

“Your pussy's so good, fuck,” he continues to groan out of pleasure, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust, "taking my cock so well, baby."

He moves slightly to let go of one of your legs as he sits up, flipping your body and arranges you till your ass is in the air, your back arched. As he re-enters you, a salacious moan leaves your lips, savouring the feeling of his balls hitting your clit.

“No one is going to fuck you like I do, you hear me?” He says, his thrusts becoming more powerful to emphasize his words.

“I said, do you hear me?” he reiterates himself, and you answer him obediently.

"Mhm, fuck, feels so good," you whine.

Joshua’s hands come down to slap your ass harshly, leaving large red hand prints against your supple skin. The burn feels goods and your whimper with every slap he gives you.

“Joshua please, don’t cum inside me,” you beg him, but he just chuckles at your pleas.

You can feel your self getting closer to your orgasm, your walls tighenting against his cock with every move he makes.

“Be a good girl for me and just take what I give you,” is all Joshua says, his hands moving over to your clit, rubbing it in circles to get you closer to completion.

His other hands is pushing your face into the pillow with so much force that you genuinely don’t believe that you are able to move from where you lay. You can feel his member twitch inside you, his thrust beginning to get sloppy. The headboard is banging against the wall as he moves in and out of you.

Then you feel it, his hips still, his length fully inside you, tip right against your cervix before he releases his load.

“Shua!”

You moan at the way his hot white cum fill your needy cunt, your eyes rolling back as your releases follows right after his. All you can hear is his laboured breathing as he removes himself from you.

Letting go of his hold on you, your body flops agains the mattress. You can hear shuffling behind you and you turn around to see Joshua already putting on his clothes.

“I’ll text you the next time I want to come over,” Joshua says when he’s fully dressed, pulling you into a deep kiss before leaving.

You sigh into your pillow, the relization of what just happened hitting you right away. The feeling of his cum dripping out of your now swollen cunt makes you feel sick, but you can’t get over how good he makes you feel. It doens’t matter how many times you tell him that “this is the last time”, Joshua always get what he wants.

✧ note: thank you for reading, i hoped you liked it! leave a comment or an ask if u wanna see more of this.

✧ taglist: @christinewithluv @todorokiskitten @peachescreamandcrumble @minwonfairy @oneandonlyluvv @ihrtmingyu @tigerhoshii @sleepzyy @luveveryonewoo @thepoopdokyeomtouched @chan-s-laptop @aksweet7 @leah-rose03 @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @gyuguys @crystal-rhyming @jenoxygen @hoshhhiiiii @babigriin @bouclesdefeu @mingyuecstacy @iluvseokmin @odevote118 @wonvsmile @suga-bitch @chickpea-jimin @lar3ine @bias-recs @hanniebub @iluvmingi @vapidlynn @aaniag @yogurttea @blurr3db3rry @lovejoshua @woozixo @drunk-on-dk @noiceoofed @angelfeverdream @leahhhher @hanniebwii @yuyunhoo @whowantshota @hannniiiiiehae @writingbarnes @chariseiswriting @imhwajaez @tomodachiii @valenhui @3lilredroses @bunnyjjongie @sunniques @lovejoshua (hi user lovejoshua u love joshua so here’s some joshua)

#lola's recs <3 #lola exposing herself part. 234567890 #i have some deep issues with this guy

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fungateshortcakes · 10 hours ago

Text

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

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Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

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I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

#logan howlett x reader #x men #hugh jackman #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x reader #logan howlett #logan wolverine #marvel #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #worst wolverine #worst wolverine x reader #mcu #logan howlett fluff #fluff #oneshot

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cobaltperun · 1 day ago

Text

Jerks With Hearts of Gold - Work For It

Request: Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Summary: The first kiss should not be this difficult to get, yet nothing is ever easy for Tara Carpenter.

Masterlist / Side story of this request

Word count: 2.7k

She could no longer deny it, she could no longer fight it, and she hated every single thing about it. Except she didn't actually hate it, she absolutely loved it, only she would never admit it, especially to anyone other than herself.

Tara Carpenter was in love with a jerk.

How could this have happened? Sure, she wanted to live her life, set aside everything that's happened while being comfortably cautious about which people she let in, but she did not expect to let the biggest jerk of them all in. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she took it not just a step, but a fucking marathon further by falling in love with you. So, there Tara was, lying on her bed facing the ceiling and glaring at it as if she had your face painted right on it. She might as well have it painted there, because that's all she could see when she closed her eyes. Your smiling face, that stupid grin when you prove her wrong, or when you get the upper hand in a debate, or when you just annoy the living hell out of her.

“Jerk,” she muttered as she looked through window that was somehow facing the direction you were in. Of course, you were far away, too far for her to even see your neighborhood from her window, let alone your apartment, but just the fact that she knew she would be looking in the direction of your apartment if she looked outside her window infuriated her. Why did you have to be so good to her? You stopped smoking just for her, and that really was the true start of her downfall. But you couldn’t stop there, could you? Ever since she opened up about the attacks she survived you've been crazy attentive to everything she was feeling, noticing even the minute details about her mood shifts.

Somehow, despite only knowing you for a relatively short period of time, Tara was absolutely certain you wouldn’t turn out to be a Ghostface. Maybe worse than even that was how sure Tara was that if she confessed and you returned her feelings that the two of you would just stay together. That you would never break her trust or her heart.

And that just made her afraid that one day she would do that to you. Because there was that feeling deep inside of her, that thought that maybe she did ruin everything she touched, and that she just wouldn’t know how to let you love her.

Yet at the same time, Tara knew she wanted that kind of love, that almost unconditional love, more than she wanted anything in the world. So, Tara picked up her phone and sent you a message.

~X~

You were bored beyond what you imagined was humanly possible. You were so bored you might actually consider doing schoolwork that was still far from the deadline. That's how bored you were. You weren't in the mood for a movie or some new TV show or a new book or anything that would reasonably take more than a few hours to finish, but you also weren't in the mood to go out and have fun, or go to a stupid party if Tara wasn’t there, or anything of that nature.

Luckily, just as you were about to lament on your ruined night, your phone rang and you jumped to your feet cheering loudly that there was even a smidge of distraction to be had tonight.

You placed your palms together in front of your face praying to whatever higher being that might exist. “Please be Tara, please be Tara, please let me annoy her tonight!” because you would not be that desperate to actually send the message first. Not after sending the first message four times in a row.

You plucked your phone off your charger and the screen lit up and you pumped your fist at your side. “Yes!” you exclaimed. It was Tara. “Oh, I love this girl!” your eyes widened when you said that.

Well, you did love her, and you knew that, and you knew how you loved her, how much, and how intensely. But you haven't really said it out loud and with that sudden realization the urge to annoy her faded away and you just opened the message she just sent you.

Tara: Let's meet up tomorrow

Please I'm bored

Well, that was direct and right to the point, just the way Tara always was, and you grinned like a fool because you would get to see her tomorrow instead of waiting for the next week's classes. So, you replied with a simple ‘Of course! Usual time usual place?’

It took Tara less than a minute to reply, and you've never thought a simple ‘yes’ would make you this happy.

You walked back to the bed and just fell on top of it, still grinning. You loved this girl. You loved her so damn much and she didn't even know it and maybe, just maybe you could confess tomorrow. Just see how it goes. At least you won't be painfully stuck in friendzone and things would be clear, you would know if you should give up on these feelings or if you would just have to wait for some time until she got more comfortable. You understood perfectly well just how difficult opening up would be for Tara, and all you really wanted was to know if there was even the slightest chance that she might one day reciprocate your feelings.

~X~

She must have done something right lately because all of a sudden and without even considering all of those things Tara ended up being really lucky. First of all, she didn't have classes today, Sam was working, and all of her friends had classes, so no one was free to hang out with her. Not even Chad and he was the most relaxed about classes out of all of them. At least before the exams, once the exams were going then he was the one worrying the most.

That would probably be something you and Chad could bond over. You had the same annoying nonchalant approach before the exams only to completely flip it once exams actually started. She still smiled, because somehow, despite everything, she found that endearing.

The usual spot was your code of sorts, for a small secluded spot in the park that Tara found when she first came to New York, back when she felt the need to escape from everything and pretend she was just a normal teenager. And you came to appreciate the spot as well, so instead of hanging out in a café bar or some other place, one of you would get the drinks and the other some snacks and you just go and sit at the park. And it worked well, because not only was it a nice place where she could breathe easier, but it had designated spots for picnic, so that was just another plus in its own way.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she walked through the park toward the place where you would meet up. The basket filled with your favorite food felt a lot heavier than it really was. You weren't really a flowers kind of girl, or rather Tara wasn't, she just felt that would be a bit too on the nose and she wants to be a bit subtle about everything. Although… There was nothing subtle about being twenty minutes early.

She picked a good spot for the picnic. The one with a nice shade, far enough from the people walking through the park, and light fresh breeze blowing through her hair bringing in the scent of the flowers blooming in the park.

“Guess we are both early,” Tara jumped when she heard your voice and flipped around to see you standing there sheepishly rubbing the back of your head, all the while holding a bag filled with a couple of bottles of probably juice if she had to guess. You were kind of boring like that, not really consuming alcohol, but she guessed that would make Sam like you more because you weren't some party animal.

“Damn it, you scared me!” Tara put her hand over her chest trying to calm her heart rate down. Getting scared was not one of her plans for the day!

Your eyes widened and immediately she could see the guilt on your face. “I'm sorry! I should have texted you or something, I just didn't want you to rush if you weren't here and-“ you facepalmed, you didn’t forget about anything, you just got eager to see her and she wasn’t expecting you. “God, I'm such a fool for scaring you like that!” there you were being the caring, gentle dumbass she fell in love with.

Tara smiled widely, unable to restrain her reaction. “Hey, it's fine, come on, let's just sit down and start this again, OK? Shit, look at us,” Tara laughed as you joined her, still looking at her apologetically. “We're like two teenagers trying to go on their first date instead of hanging out as friends,” she chastised herself and you to an extent because you were both nervous and she couldn't wrap her head around why you were nervous. She was the one who intended to confess her love for you… unless…

No, that couldn't be right.

The two of you knelt down on the blanket and began taking things out of the bag you brought, and the basket Tara brought. “You really went all out! And it's all homemade!” you commented, and Tara just knew you could see the blush on her face.

You only complimented her cooking, once granted she only cooked for you once, and ever since then has been practicing, wanting to impress you once more.

“I just grabbed the leftovers,” of course she wasn’t going to tell you the truth. She would die of embarrassment if that happened, but you knew, you probably knew every single time she uttered a ridiculous lie just to save face.

You snorted at that. “Of course, of course, I wouldn't dare to imply the great Tara Carpenter would prepare food for an occasion this beneath her,” you laughed and despite the joke you just said something just didn't feel right about it. It annoyed Tara more than she ever imagined it would. She just hated that there was a certain sense of self-deprecation within your voice.

So, Tara reached up, grabbed you by the chin and pulled you closer. “Don't you dare ever think that,” she leaned in, intending to kiss you and get all of this confession bullshit out of the way, and just show you how she felt instead. But then you smirked and pulled away from her and her hand was just left hanging in the air, empty, while her lips remained stuck, slightly pursed as she intended to kiss you.

“Work for it, Carpenter,” you did not just say that. You did not just deny her of the kiss she wanted for so damn long.

“What the fuck?!” Tara just stared. You actually did that to her. “Work for it? How do I- I mean- You know-“ she paused, taking a deep breath. “Was I reading this all wrong,” she gestured between the two of you. “And you actually don’t feel the same way? Y/N, I can take it if you don't feel the same way, I'm not some-“

You interrupted her by placing the tip of your finger on her lips and snickering and now she was just confused. “I do feel the same way, I love you too, Tara,” you said it so easily even if she didn't, even if she wasn't all that sure she could say those three words anytime soon, despite how genuinely she felt them. “I just want you to work for the kiss. You've been a pain in my eyes for so long, I deserve this!” you laughed and took a bite of the sandwich she so carefully prepared, choosing all the ingredients you loved, and here you were saying she had to work for the kiss.

“What do you even mean by work? How?! Tell me how?!” she demanded red in the face from the anger and the embarrassment and because she was denied of what she wanted and like a petulant child that was suddenly rejected she was just about ready to throw a tantrum.

And that wasn't like her. She was denied so many things as a child, it wasn't in her nature to throw a temper tantrum, yet with you she really felt like that. She felt like the way you were loving her, even when you were just friends, was allowing that child within her to come out for perhaps the first time in her entire life.

“Ask for it, you can’t just take it,” you winked at her. “Come on, now, Tara, all you have to do is ask,” oh, you were enjoying this. You got your victory. You knew she felt the same way that you did before you even uttered a single word and here you were eating it all up like the menace you were.

“I'm just not gonna do it,” Tara pouted and refused to look at you even if she knew you would just shrug and keep eating the sandwich.

“Whatever works for you,” you were being way too nonchalant about this and she should have been elated that you felt the same way that she did, but this was infuriating in so many ways. Of course it had to be like this with you it couldn't be just an easy, simple confession, followed by a soft kiss, followed by a passionate kiss that would threaten to consume both of you. No, it had to be this complicated and difficult because that's who you were and that's who she was. She was Tara fucking Carpenter and every single thing in her life just had to be complicated.

Well not this time.

“Let me kiss you,” she leaned in and you burst out laughing backing away once more not allowing her to claim her reward.

“That's not how you ask, dumbass,” you just laughed and sure, fine, she could play that game too.

“I want to kiss you,” you were still leaning away and she faked a smile, speaking through gritted teeth. “Come on, Y/N, people are watching. They're looking at me leaning closer to you and you are not working with me here,” she was working hard for it and she had the right to her hard-earned reward.

“Not the magic word, Tara,” surely you weren't going to make her actually ask for it! You loved her back, why was this so complicated! She even licked her lips to tempt you, and she saw you looking down on her lips, she knew you wanted to kiss her as well! You just weren't giving in.

Fuck…

“Please, can I kiss you?” there. She asked. You smiled and didn't back away as she leaned in and that was all she needed to just go in and press her lips against yours for a heated, passionate kiss. And when she pulled back, she truly was rewarded by getting to see you being a stuttering, embarrassed mess. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked and stuck her own tongue at you, the tongue that was mere seconds ago inside of your mouth because of course she couldn't go for a soft kiss for the very first kiss. She had to be intense with everything that's included.

Especially with this because you deserved to be loved just as intensely as you loved her.

Safe to say you failed to construct a proper sentence for the next twenty or so minutes. Frankly she was impressed it only took you that long to get your composure back and actually start putting words together in a way that made sense.

#perunrequests #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #scream #x reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x reader

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moonlitwitchdaisy · 1 day ago

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baby, ride me to the darkness of the night

“F-Fuck—Ughh—can you feel it, baby? Can you feel my big cock pounding into your pussy to the rhythm of the music?”

Of course you could feel it. Oh, you felt it all too well.

Falling for Gojo Satoru’s charm wasn’t exactly a challenge. One glance from him was enough to have you slipping your panties down, wet and ready, waiting for him. And once he was inside you? The sensations he’d bring were like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You hadn’t even wanted to go to the club tonight, but your best friend had insisted you needed to celebrate finishing your midterms with something fun. Begrudgingly, you’d let yourself be dragged along, realizing that the night’s control was no longer yours.

At first, you’d rolled your eyes and sighed. But after a few shots, you felt bold enough to dance. On the dance floor, grinding against your best friend, collecting every wandering gaze, you had no idea the most dangerous one of all had already undressed you with his eyes and was fucking you senseless in his mind. Not until your friend leaned in, whispering about the blue-eyed devil watching you from upstairs.

People had given him many names: “The Strongest,” “Blue-Eyed King,” “Perfect Face.” But to you, the only one that truly fit was “Devil.”

Devil always got what he wanted. Sometimes, he lured people into his games with wicked tricks. Other times, he simply waited, his prey crawling to him willingly.

When you glanced in the direction your friend indicated, it became clear the Devil had already chosen you for his game. And without a word of protest, you chose to be his willing sacrifice.

You had no idea when exactly his hand gripped your waist and pulled you away while you were dancing with your friend. You could feel the hardness pressing against your ass. In fact, it was impossible not to feel it. And you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering just how much harder he could get.

Well, testing it wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Turns out, the results were conclusive. So much so that the Devil himself—Gojo Satoru—couldn’t hold back anymore. He’d dragged you into the women’s restroom, pinning you to the wall, his lips devouring yours the moment you were alone.

And now? Now your legs were wrapped around his waist, your already too-short dress pushed up to your hips, while his thick cock plunged in and out of you.

Each thrust hit that perfect spot, leaving you delirious as the beat of “São Paulo” synced with the rhythm of his hips. Your back slammed against the wall with every stroke, driving you closer and closer to madness.

You were letting the club owner fuck you senseless in the women’s restroom—something you never would’ve imagined yourself doing.

“S-Satoru—sl-slow-slow down, it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the pounding music outside.

“Fuck no, baby. Haaah—I know you don’t want me to slow down. You just want more, you filthy little slut. F-Fuck, yeah—” he growled, his masculine rumble sending a shiver down your spine as he thrust into you harder and faster.

The sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the bathroom, but not a single soul dared to interrupt. It was as if, even through the blaring music, your shared moans were enough to warn everyone off. Nobody wanted to interfere with the Devil’s play.

And they had no right to.

“Mmmfp—I’m—I’m gonna—OH GOD, Satoru, I’m coming! Keep going!” you cried out, your voice trembling with the orgasm building inside you.

With one hand braced against the wall and the other gripping your hip, Satoru quickly moved his hand from the wall to your hip, using both to bounce you harder on his cock. It felt so good that you weren’t sure anyone else could ever fuck you this perfectly again.

“Shit—I’m coming too… You’re going to take all my cum like a good girl. Like *smack* a *smack* good *smack* fucking *smack* girl,” he hissed, accentuating each word with a deliberate thrust.

With a guttural groan, he spilled inside you, his head dropping to rest against the curve of your neck as his hot breath fanned across your skin. You could feel his semen dripping down your thighs as your legs trembled around him.

You closed your eyes, trying to process what had just happened.

You’d let the Devil ride you to the darkness. And it turned out, people were right—devil wasn’t a little red man with horns and a tail.

Sometimes, he had striking blue eyes and a massive cock.

a little note: i was listening to "são paulo" on the metro, and this idea came to my mind. this song definitely gives off Gojo vibes.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo drabble #jjk x reader smut #jjk drabble

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pholla-jm · 2 days ago

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SUPERHERO

IMAGINE: SUPERHERO~ SATORU X READER FEAT: MEGUMI genre: fluff warnings: none. maybe spelling errors. not proofread. gn!reader ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Who is your favorite superhero?’

The question on the paper taunted Megumi as he stared at it.

Megumi barely watches shows or reads superhero comics. He tried to think of anyone or anything in his life that he considers a superhero.

With an annoyed sigh, he stuffs the paper into his bag. Pushing the question to the back of his mind, and deeming it a future problem.

His teacher announces that it’s time to go home and that the parents were here to pick them up.

Megumi knew exactly who would be outside, and he could already feel the annoyance creeping in.

When he walked outside, he could already see the tall white haired man. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd of parents. What he didn’t expect was to see a smaller companion standing next to him. Both of the adults were smiling at him; Gojo giving him a mischievous smile, and his companion giving him a warm and welcoming smile.

He was almost reluctant to walk to his now guardians, but he was really happy to see you. One of the only ones he can stand nowadays. “(y/n)!” He says, legs moving faster so he can welcome you with open arms.

“Megumi!” You respond, returning his welcome ten folds.

“Awe, why don’t I get a welcome?” Gojo pouts with his arms crossed.

He was looking down at the younger boy, but Megumi didn’t care.

“You don’t get one, old man.”

Gojo gasps at his words. “But (y/n) get’s one? And they’re the same age as me!”

Megumi lets go of you, and turns to Gojo.

“(y/n) isn’t annoying like you.” He says and grabs onto your hand. He drags you to the side of the car he usually sits at. Right behind the driver seat. Right behind Gojo, but he can see the person right in the passenger seat- you.

“I’m not annoying.” Gojo mutters while walking to the car as well. “I’m not annoying, right (y/n)?” He asks you. You purse your lips and give him a side eye.

After helping Megumi into his seat and making sure he’s comfortable, you close the door, shooting Gojo a look.

‘What?’ He mouths. “You know.” You respond before going over to the passenger side of the car. Gojo sighs, muttering words of how unfair things were. He steps into the car, eyes immediately fluttering over to Megumi, then back at you.

He knew exactly what you were talking about, but was that going to stop him? No. Absolutely not.

The three of you arrive at the estate shortly. Megumi immediately unbuckles, and hops out of the car already dreading about doing his homework. He knew that he would be sitting in the chair for hours.

“Go ahead and get started on your homework while I cook dinner.” You say while patting the tap of his head.

Megumi nods his head while you start to chat with Gojo. His eyes straying longer on you rather than Gojo.

The light bickering and laughter causes him to roll his eyes and walk past the both of you.

When inside, he places his bag down and fishes out the paper that needs to be finished.

‘Who is your favorite superhero?’

It seemed so simple. He could honestly lie and say Ironman or something like that. But he would have to write a couple sentences about why that is his favorite superhero.

“Gojo Satoru! I swear if you throw one more thing at me, you will get no sweets tonight.”

Megumi’s ears perked up hearing your raised voice at Gojo. He hears a small thud, soon followed by a dramatic gasp.

“Hey, turn off your infinity! It’s not fair.”

Gojo only laughs which in turn annoys Megumi.

But as he hears your laughter joining him, Megumi finally realizes something.

His favorite superhero… is you. (L/n)(y/n).

You were one of his favorite people. He didn’t know why, but he sure does now.

Megumi starts furiously writing on the paper. He wanted to get all of his thoughts out before they were lost.

“Hmm, let me see what you’re doing.” Megumi hears Gojo's voice and he jumps a little bit. He was so engrossed doing his homework, he didn’t even hear Gojo’s footsteps.

He is quiet for a few seconds while reading his work. A smile graces his face. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” Gojo says.

“It’s not about you, so I don’t care how you feel.”

“But my name is written down here.”

“Cause I’m explaining how (y/n) is the only one that can handle you. Anyone that can handle you is a superhero in my books.”

You walked in while Megumi explained this. And you laughed.

“Oh, Megumi,” you say while walking over to the boys. “It’s very sweet of you to think of me as a superhero, but I’m not handling him.”

Megumi tilts his head, a bit confused.

“I’m with him because I love him for who he is. Even if he does have a big personality… it’s what I love about him.” Gojo grins as wide as he could at your words. “Awe, I love you too, sugarplum.” Gojo says while leaning down to capture your lips for a split second.

You giggle, “even if his nicknames are next level horrendous.”

Gojo pouts at your words, while Megumi’s stomach churns in disgust.

It wasn’t disgusting like he'd just seen something gory. It was a disgust, like two parents showing affection to each other.

#oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #gojo fluff

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logos0 · 3 days ago

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Through the Storm

You had always hated storms. Not the ones outside—the crashing thunder and relentless rain were oddly comforting—but the ones that raged inside your mind. They brewed at inconvenient times, bringing doubt, anxiety, and an unbearable weight you could never fully describe. Being with Leah had always been your calm in the chaos, but lately, even she felt like a ship lost in the swell.

The rift started small—a disagreement over her schedule, a misunderstanding about a missed call. Leah was always busy. Between her training sessions and commitments to the England squad, it sometimes felt like you were just another appointment she pencilled in. You tried not to let it bother you, and at first it worked, but as time passed, you could not push down your frustration. Your feelings no longer simmered under the surface but started bubbling over at the worst moments.

It all came to a head one night after her return from an away game. You hadn’t seen her in weeks, nor had you been able to call her, and while you wanted to savour her presence, the frustration you’d been holding in came spilling out instead.

"You’re never here, Leah," you said, your voice trembling with both anger and sadness. "I get that football’s your life, but am I even part of it anymore?"

She stood in the doorway, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, exhaustion painted across her face. "Of course, you are," she replied, her tone sharp with defensiveness. "You think I don’t miss you when I’m gone? You think this is easy for me?"

"Well, it doesn’t feel like it," you shot back, tears welling in your eyes. "You come home, and it’s like… I’m just a stopover before the next big thing. Like I’m not enough."

Leah dropped her bag and stepped closer, but you turned away, wiping your eyes furiously. "Don’t say that," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You’re everything to me."

"Then why doesn’t it feel like it?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Leah stood frozen, her eyes searching yours for something she couldn’t find. Those eyes which had pulled you into a ban so long ago and now were tormenting you. "I don’t know how to fix this," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

And just like that, the storm between you grew too wild to tame. Leah left that night, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the sound of rain pounding against the window.

The days that followed were agonizing. Leah texted you sporadically, but the messages felt hollow, as though she was trying to bridge a gap that words alone couldn’t mend. You left most of them unanswered, unsure of what to say—or if you even wanted to.

Until one night, a week later, when your phone buzzed with a message that was different from the rest.

Leah: I’m outside. Please, just… let me talk.

You hesitated, your heart battling between wanting to see her and wanting to stay angry. But the thought of her standing outside in the cold, waiting for you, tugged at your resolve. With a sigh, you grabbed a coat and opened the door.

Leah was there, drenched from the rain, her usually confident demeanour replaced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard. That reminded you of times long past. She looked at you with those piercing eyes, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

"I know I’ve hurt you," she began, her voice steady but soft. "And I’ve spent the past week trying to figure out how to make it right. But the truth is, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that I can’t lose you."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing with each word. "Leah… I just feel so invisible sometimes. Like you’re here, but not really here. As if I am just another appointment, a chore."

She nodded, stepping closer. "I know. And you’re right—I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve let football take over everything, and I thought… I thought you’d be okay with that because you’re so strong. But I didn’t realize how much I was taking you for granted."

Her words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying. Leah reached for you, hesitating for a split second before pulling you into her arms. You let yourself melt into her, the warmth of her embrace cutting through the chill of the rain.

"I’m sorry," she whispered into your hair. "For everything. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not enough, because you are. You’re more than enough. You’re my everything."

You pulled back just enough to look at her, her face inches from yours. "I don’t need you to have all the answers," you said quietly. "I just need to know that you’re willing to try."

Leah nodded, her expression serious. "I’ll try every day for the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes."

Her lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant, as if she were asking for permission to fix what had been broken. You kissed her back, the storm inside you finally beginning to settle.

The rain continued to fall, but for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. Leah was here, and so were you—together, ready to weather whatever came next.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso x reader #leah williamson imagine

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halfwayhearted · 2 days ago

Note

hopeless romantic pedri trying his best to approach y/n but is afraid thinking she’s into someone else

A Tu Vera — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: He’s unsure about your feelings and struggles to interpret your actions, but your birthday gesture gives him the chance to hope that he’s wrong. That you do, in fact, like him.

Word Count: 1.10K+

Disclaimer/s — Nothing, it’s really just comfort, slight fluff?

A/N: So basically… I used the term approach as in like, he felt nervous to approach reader about the… situation? FUCK IDK I struggled horribly yet couldn’t stop writing but whatever! ALSO. HIS BIRTHDAY HELLO. 22, bless the hell up! 🎉🐾🤍

The day you’ve been waiting for has finally come.

It was Pedri’s twenty-second birthday today. You had told him beforehand that you would stop by later on because he needed to stay and practice for his upcoming game tomorrow, and you didn’t want to interrupt his time spent with his family.

Some time had passed when your phone buzzed with a message from him saying that he was, well, alone, so you could be on your way to him.

And you were! Your gift for him sat delicately on your passenger seat. Did you have to stop yourself from spending a lot on him? Yes! But this was Pedri; why wouldn’t you go all out for him?

As you pull up, your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you see him standing on the porch, his gaze locking onto your car. You quickly get out and call out to him, “Hello, why the hell are you outside?”

Now he’s looking at you as if you’ve just asked the most stupidest question in the world. “You were on your way. Of course I’d be waiting outside.” He retorted, slowly making his way toward you.

“Right,” you smile and wrap your arms around him once you’re within reach. “Happy birthday!”

The man returns your hug almost immediately. He hums against you in appreciation, nestling his nose into the crook of your neck. The action easily causes your cheeks to flush ever-so-slightly.

“I’ve got your gift in my car. Want to open now?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling away to his dismay.

Though his answer elicits a smile to spread across your lips… oh. He suddenly doesn’t feel upset about having to break the hug so early anymore.

Grabbing his arm, you gently tug him with you as you quickly reach the car door. “Okay, first things first: unfortunately, I can’t stay long. Secondly, feel free to let me know if you don’t like whatever’s in here; I kept the receipt just in case!”

“Doubtful, but I got it,” he shrugged with a grin.

Sliding your hand under the bag, you lean forward to get a better grip on it. Then, you turn to face him, holding it out for him to take, and he does.

With the gift now in his arms, you walk side by side to the chairs he has already set up outside, due to his family coming over earlier. Once the two of you are seated, you turn towards him and motion for him to open it, but he just keeps his gaze fixed on your face. You feel sick. “Go on.”

Adjusting the bag on his lap, Pedri pries it open, a breathy laugh escaping his lips when he sees how overly decorated it is. He takes out the card first, about to open it when you speak, “You can just read that later or something. Keep going, c’mon!”

He smiles, removing the blue and red wrapping paper to reveal the blue Nike hoodie inside. “You like hoodies, and you like the color blue, so…!”

It was the simplest thing, yet it had him fighting the urge to overthink the entire situation. You were observant, he knew that. He needed to stop.

“Thank you,” he says with a toothy-grin. “Really.”

“Of course. There’s one last thing at the bottom.”

The brunette lets out another laugh and removes more wrapping paper. His eyes widen slightly when he catches sight of the next gift, making you bite your bottom lip in nervous anticipation.

His gaze slowly trails up to lock with yours, and you tilt your head. “Do you like it? I noticed you were running low the other day, plus I know—”

Pedri interjects, “I do, and I was. It’s—this is a lot.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you assure. “Now you won’t have to worry about getting another one!”

The box suddenly feels heavy in his hands, the strip of the brand ‘Prada’ staring right at him. He nods slowly, “No, I won’t. Thank you. Wow.”

“Wow, huh? So, I take it you liked everything?”

Obviously, was he kidding? No, were you kidding?“Really? What gave you that idea? Yes, I loved it.”

With a chuckle, you nudge his foot with yours, eyes rolling in feigned annoyance, “Hey, I can easily take it back. Tell me how your day was?”

“It was good. I had a good practice, had a small dinner with my family, and now I’m with you.”

I’m with you? What? He could’ve cursed under his breath if you weren’t right here. He knew he shouldn’t have said that. If he thought it sounded weird, you probably thought it was even worse.

He’s quick to take it back, “I didn’t—I’m sorry.”

“What? It’s okay,” you tell him with a quirk of your brow. “Sorry, what are you even apologizing for?”

He looks confused. “You’re with him, aren’t you?”

“Him?” You repeated. “I’m not seeing anybody.”

Not seeing anybody? “What about the guy with the blonde hair? The one you hung out with a lot.”

That’s when the person he’s talking about flickers through your mind, and now you’re smiling from ear-to-ear, “Oh. I’m not with him. I don’t like him.”

“Then who?” He blurts out, instantly regretting his words. He didn’t even actually know if you liked anyone to begin with. What was he doing?

You blow out a breath and stand up from your seat, with him following suit. “You’re serious?”

Stick with it. “I’m serious. You don’t have to—”

You refrain from letting your grin widen, nudging your head toward your car. He understands that you’re silently asking for him to walk you to it.

“Well! If it’s need-to-know,” you trail off, rounding your car and spinning on your heel to look at him once you reach the door. Your gaze flickers down to his lips for just a second, but that second is all he really needs for his breath to hitch in his throat.

To his semi-surprise, you reached up and placed a kiss on his cheek, sparing him one last knowing glance while you opened the door and got inside.

“Let me know if that answers your question. And, Pedri?” You pause; he hums. “Happy birthday.”

He stands there in silence. He had been so wrong. You weren’t with the person he thought you were with, and he should have realized that when you showed up at his house this late, knowing full well you have to wake up early for your job tomorrow.

Pedri had been utterly mistaken, and he couldn’t have been happier to be as wrong as he was.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @gadriezmannsgirl + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

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pankowperfection · 1 day ago

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Good Intentions

reposting because Tumblr doesn't like the old link

GIF by normatural

Summary: JJ keeps watch over you at a party, but decides he can't stay away anymore

Warnings: smut, mentions of drinking, mentions of drug use, oral (fem receiving), 18+

Being John B's younger sister meant inheriting the other pogues as family, regardless of whether you wanted them or not. They were basically siblings you'd never asked for, so while everyone was polite when you were all together, you weren't particularly close with any of them. Unfortunately, John B always dragged you out with them so you weren't just sitting at home alone and tonight that had meant going to a kook party on Figure 8, the very last place you wanted to be.

You had stressed about what to wear, in the end opting for a pair of ripped jeans and a lacy black tank top that showed a little bit of under boob. Strappy sandals on your feet you headed to the kitchen, finding JJ and John B gathering beer to take to the party. "Are you guys almost ready?" JJ turned around at the sound of your voice, looking you over head to toe. You missed the way his eyes darkened at the sight of your exposed breasts, how he swallowed thickly before looking away. "Yes y/n, chill. Just gathering supplies. Let's go." You follow the group outside, piling into the Twinkie and praying the night goes smoothly.

Of course as soon as you arrived at the party, everyone split off into different directions, leaving you alone. John B had gone to search for Sarah, Kie and Pope settling into a deep conversation about environmental changes needed to protect the beaches. JJ headed out to the back patio overlooking the beach, searching for a quiet spot to roll a joint. Wanting to look like you belonged you wandered into the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink into the red plastic cup before making your way back to the main part of the party. Unbeknownst to you, JJ had come back inside, positioning himself in the corner of the room to keep watch over you as John B had instructed.

He'd always been secretly attracted to you, never making a move because he didn't want to be the guy to go after his best friend's younger sister. He had spent many hours admiring you from a distance, wanting to be the one to make you laugh on a bad day. Countless nights he had laid wide awake in bed, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your bare skin beneath his fingers. How did you taste? What would it sound like for you to moan his name? The thought of anyone else touching you, getting to see you in that way, made JJ see red.

Over the next few hours, several guys approached you and tried to get you to dance. Each time you turned them away, getting more frustrated with each pursuit. The final straw was when none other than Rafe Cameron had stalked up silently behind you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you back against him. You let out a gasp, spinning around in his arms quickly and attempting to shove him away. "Rafe, get off of me." He smirked down at you, leaning in closer. "Shh, relax sweetheart. I just want a quick taste. Let me show you a good time." Without further thought you threw your drink into his face, leaving him fuming before stalking off to grab another.

Suddenly you were pulled into the hallway, a familiar large frame caging you in against the wall. "JJ, what are you doing?" He sighs, letting his hand trail down your face before tucking your hair behind your ear. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Seems like you haven't had a moment of peace all night, all these dumb kooks treating you like a piece of meat." You look up into his blue eyes, something different in them that you haven't seen before that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. "I'm fine J. Why do you care anyways? I know John B asked you to look out for me, but I can take care of myself." He smiles, dimples on display making your heart beat faster. "Oh I know, I saw that for myself. You look so hot, even hotter when you threw that drink in Cameron's face. Sexiest thing I've ever seen."

He leans closer, hands on either side of your face, close enough you can feel his breath on your lips. "JJ...." His lips are on yours in an instant, soft at first, savoring the feeling of your lips against his. When you let a moan slip and tangle your hands into his hair he loses all restraint, pressing his body into yours as his tongue plunges into your mouth. His hands are everywhere, caressing softly over your breasts and bringing your nipples to hard peaks before traveling further south, ghosting over the front of your jeans and making your panties soaked. You can feel his hard cock pressing into your core, grabbing onto his ass to pull him closer still causing him to groan into your mouth. You pull apart breathless, chests heaving and heat flooding through your system. "Take me home J, please." He nods, making some kind of excuse to John B about you not feeling well and letting him know he was taking you home.

The ride back to the Chateau is quiet, air thick with sexual tension. You barely make it over the threshold into the house before he is on you again, picking you up and carrying you to the spare bedroom he calls his own. He sits down on the bed with you straddling his lap, hands kneading the flesh of your ass as you grind down over his length. You pull his head back, exposing his neck as you kiss and suck over every inch of exposed skin. "Shit y/n. We shouldn't do this, your John B's sister." You push him down onto the bed, rocking over length again in slow, deliberate motions that cause him to moan again. "Tell me you want me to stop J and I will." You continue, friction of your jeans rubbing your clit perfectly as you start to pick up speed. "Fuck,” he groans, flipping you over quickly and trapping your hands over your head.

"You're sure this is what you want? Cause once I start, I won't be able to stop." He searches your face for any sign of discomfort, wanting to be certain that you really do want to cross this line. "I want you JJ. Please, please make me feel good." With that he helps you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and taking in the sight of your naked breasts. "God, you're so perfect," he coos, leaning down to take your left nipple into his mouth. You weave your fingers into his hair, holding his face close as he lavishes your sensitive bud with his tongue. He kisses his way to your right breast, repeating the same actions as his hand pops the button on your jeans. He pulls the zipper down slowly, connecting his lips to your neck as his fingers dive under the material of your panties. When you feel the coolness of his ring touch your overheated skin you moan, hips bucking up into his touch. "Mmm JJ, feels so good." He takes his time, teasing two fingers up and down through your folds, lightly grazing your clit with each pass. "So wet for me sweetheart, bet you taste so good."

His hot, greedy mouth kisses down your body, pausing long enough to remove the rest of your clothes before settling between your thighs. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." His breath tickles your pussy, eyes threatening to roll at what is about to happen. "J please, need you so bad." With that he dives in, devouring you with such ferocity you swear you might pass out from the overwhelming pleasure. Your nails rake into his scalp and he moans, vibrations making your thighs tremble. Two fingers tease around your entrance before he plunges them inside, curling them just right so his ring massages your walls. "Fuck J, don't stop." He increases his pace, fucking you with his fingers while his talented tongue worships your clit. "Come on sweetheart, cum for me." His soft command does you in, body trembling as you grind against his face while you ride out your orgasm.

The sight of your release shining on his chin as he comes up to kiss you makes you feral, pushing him onto his back again before hovering over his length. "Easy sweetheart," his abs tense beneath your touch, struggling to not show how excited he is at the thought of you riding him. "Is this okay? Can I ride you?" His eyes roll back at your words, moan leaving his plump lips that tells you all you need to know. You line him up before starting to slowly sink down, his thick length stretching you in a way no one has. "God, you're so big." You finally bottom out, taking a moment to breathe and adjust to how deep he is inside of you. "Y/n, fuck. Need you to move, squeezing me so fucking tight."

His hands grab your hips, guiding your motions as you start to bounce up and down on his length. His fingers dig into your hips, grip bruising but you just don't care. Suddenly he lands a soft smack to your ass making you gasp and clench around him. "Oh god," he groans, bucking up into you to meet your thrusts. Before you can realize what happened he has you on your back, legs over his shoulders as he plows back into you. You let out a whimper, nails digging into his back as he starts to thrust hard and fast.

"You feel so good, don't want to ever stop." He pins your hands over your head again, laying down on top of you and sucking bruises into your neck. The new angle feels amazing, each thrust stimulating your clit. "Yes J, just like that. I'm gonna cum again." He somehow speeds up, rocking into you faster. When he bites the sensitive spot on your neck your orgasm washes over, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins as you moan out his name. "Shit princess, gonna fill you up." A few thrusts later he stills, warm release coating your walls as he comes to a halt.

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 day ago

Text

A New Life - Part 1

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x ofc Cornelia

Word Count: 4700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?

Notes: sigh. look, I had one scene idea and it became this. If you've ever read anything by me, you know this happens. And just look at Acacius. How could I not? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

General Marcus Acacius Masterlist

“We can’t thank you enough, miss.”

I wave my hand. “No need to thank me. I’m just doing what I can.”

I pull the palla (scarf) over my head as I wind my way back up the city streets, heading towards the home I grew up in. The largest home in the entire province that used to belong to my father, the noble in charge of this entire area. But ever since he died, my brother has taken his place and well, let’s just say he is far from my favorite person. Which is why I’m hiding as I sneak back inside, my brother having forbidden my leaving the grounds ever since I was forced to return after my husband’s death.

I wake the next morning to the sound of many footsteps running outside and down the halls. I quickly pull on my tunic and head out of the door, turning to head towards the main chambers where my brother would undoubtedly be. Sure enough, as I approached, I heard him raise his voice. It sounded like he was trying to muster troops? He barks out a few more commands and the door flies open, catching me off guard.

“Sister! Come here!” My brother, Cato, demands. I enter the room, casting my eyes downward and away from him for a moment before looking at him.

“Brother, what is happening?”

His eyes scan me from head to foot, his lip pulling up in a snear. “The Army has arrived.”

I cock my head. “Who’s army?”

He sighs, exasperated,. “The Roman army, Cornelia. The one led by Marcus Acacius?”

My eyes widen. “The general who has never been beat?”

“That’s the one.”

The people running around make sense now. We’re preparing for a fight. “What will we do?”

“We will fight!”

I scoff. “You cannot hope to win.”

His mean eyes snap to mine. “You don’t think I can?”

“I…I just mean, General Acacius has a reputation. Our numbers are small, we can’t-”

He waves his hand at me, cutting me off. “Yes, yes. I know. We’re going to give it our best. But I also have a backup.”

“Oh?”

The snear comes on full display. “Yes. Actually a way to solve 2 problems with one.”

“Two problems?”

“I will surrender and give the General you as a victory gift.”

My jaw drops, the air whooshing from my lungs. “M..me?”

“Yes, you. I know you’re already 30, but you look much younger. He won’t know. Besides, he doesn’t need to marry you.”

“You mean to give me to a man with no intention-”

He reaches out and grips my face with one hand. “Dear sister. I would whore you out to every noble, the emperors themselves, if it meant I got to keep my lifestyle.” He shoves me away. “Now go make yourself presentable. As much faith as I’d like to have in our troops, I rather think it will come down to you.”

And that was that. He turns, effectively cutting me off from any retort. I head back to my room, calling for one of my servants to help me prepare. As she washes me, I think on all that has transpired. Am I finally to be free of the hell that has been my life for the last several years? I know I should be afraid, terrified of the renowned General Acacius, but I’m not. Anything is better than here.

My brother has me sit in a chair off to the side of his own, the sound of swords clinking growing closer and closer. The heavy doors creak open and soldiers pour inside, nearly covering the space in a handful of steps. My brother holds up his white flag, a symbol of surrender and luckily, they stop, one of them yelling to get the General. Only a handful of moments pass before a man strides into the hall, broad shoulders barely contained in beautiful leather armor, the head of Medusa proudly displayed on its front. He is covered in blood and dirt and sweat, a sword still in his hand as he confidently strides up to my brother, who instantly bows.

“General Acacius. I humbly surrender to your forces.”

“So many people died for you to be sitting here on your chair. You could have stopped the bloodshed before it started and you did not.”

“I had to give it my best shot. Honor was at stake. You can understand that, yes?”

General Acacius considers this for a moment. “And let me guess- honor is what you think will keep me from slicing you in half with my blade?”

The smile on Cato’s face falters slightly. “Well, yes.” The blade shifts in the General’s hand and my brother puts his hands up. “That and-” he reaches over and grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my skin as he throws me at the General. I fall to the floor on my knees with the unexpected movement, my palms stinging with the impact. “-my sister! Take her, marry her, use her, whatever. She is yours.”

The General leans forward, extending his hand towards me. I look at it, the blood and dirt mixed together in some kind of horrible art on his palm, and I take it, allowing him to help me up. Once I’m standing, my eyes find his and I’m shocked to see concern.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asks, his eyes scanning my face.

I don’t break the gaze as I whisper. “Please take me with you. I will be faithful to you however you need me. Free me from this prison.”

He cocks his head ever so slightly, searching for something in me. Apparently he finds whatever he’s looking for as he looks over my shoulder back at Cato. “I will take her. But I should kill you here for the way you treat your people but especially for the way you treat your sister. Your own blood.”

“My people will recover and I’m sure you or your men will be thankful to have such a beauty after-” the General takes a step forward, his blade coming up. All I hear is slicing, a horrible gurgling, sputtering sound as a body thuds to the floor. I don’t move, not right away, using my breath to steady myself. I start to turn when the General grips my arms, preventing me from moving.

“You do not need to see this.”

“I think I do.”

“Miss-”

I drop my voice so only he can hear me. “My brother has put me through hell for years. I have no love for him. Let me have this closure. Please.”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, dropping his hands from my arms. I take a breath and turn, my eyes immediately finding the crimson pool on the floor, the thin gash across Cato’s throat bright and angry against his skin. His are vacant, every trace of the evil life he lived, gone. I nod once and turn back to the General, who is still watching me. His soldiers file from the room, a loud silence falling over us.

“So…do I..do I follow you or?”

He holds his hand up. “I do not plan on holding you to that deal or whatever your brother tried to do.” He starts to turn but I gently grip his arm. He looks down at my hand briefly before looking at me.

“You saved me from this torture. I will be faithful and loyal to you.”

He puts his large hand over mine, taking it from his arm and holding it. “I have no doubt of that, miss. But you owe me nothing. Go live your life.”

“General Acacius, may I speak plainly?”

He nods. “Please.”

“I understand what you are trying to do. But please think: my brother has controlled this province ever since my father passed several years ago. He has placed more taxes and fees on these people than anyone before. And he just led half of them to slaughter with your arrival when he planned on surrendering. They are not happy with my house. They may like me but I don’t think that fondness will suffice when they are burying their husbands and sons for no reason.”

He thinks for several moments. “Perhaps you are right. I cannot in good conscience leave you here to die. I can escort you to our next province but know that it isn’t a place for a woman. War and battle are hard and bloody. I can protect you from my men but I cannot promise to protect you from those we fight against.”

“I understand. Wherever you need me, there I’ll be.”

“You are free to leave whenever you wish.” He turns, heading towards the doors.

“But what if I wish to stay? With you?” I follow behind him and slam into his chest when he abruptly stops and turns around. He looks down at me and my heartbeat races. Now I’m closer, I can see past the grime, see his greying hairs, the scar that runs down the side of his face, his eyes, dark and battle-hardened but also caring, a tinge of regret. They also darken with a look I’ve seen in many men’s faces as they chase the skirts of women. But then he blinks and it’s gone.

“We shall see.”

General Acacius accompanies me to my chambers and allows me to pack a few things. It’s lighter than I would normally travel with, considerably, but it’s not needed. And I can always get new things along the way. A few pallas (head scarfs) and tunics, some health and hygiene products and I’m ready, the General giving me a nod of approval at my small bag that I’d packed. His soldiers ransack the estate, including my room, taking anything of value to either sell or melt and turn into weapons. General Acacius ensured I had everything I wanted before he allowed it, a gesture I wasn’t expecting. As we head towards the front gates of my previous estate, he turns to me, speaking low so only I would hear.

“Stay close to me. Speak to no one. Pull that palla over your hair and stay quiet. Understood?”

I nod quickly as I do what he says, making sure it covers my hair. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have a favorite horse?”

I blink. “Yes. In the stables.”

He allows me to lead us to the stables and I quickly locate my black barb horse, Caius. He is nervous, snuffing and chittering in his stable, but the moment he sees me, he calms.

“Hi, Caius. Are you ready to go on an adventure?” He presses his forehead to mine, a gesture we’ve done since he was a foal. I can feel the General’s eyes on me, watching as I lead Caius from the stables and ready him for travel. It only takes a few minutes and I’m grateful for learning how to do it rather than relying solely on stable hands. He has me lead Caius out with his reins rather than riding, no doubt to make me less of an easier target.

We head out of the main gate and I stifle a small gasp. I hear the sounds of wailing, mothers having lost sons, wives their husbands, children their fathers. The Roman soldiers are trying to calm the area, and they’re succeeding by sheer numbers, but the sounds of grief have no master. It’s then that I realize what the crimson tinge to the soil under my sandals is. I swallow hard, willing the tears not to fall. I don’t want to look weak. But these were my people, even if we were separated by title and money and my heart aches for them.

General Acacius sets a brisk pace, winding around the main square, no doubt trying to avoid any sort of riot or call for my head. I couldn’t blame them. Like I’d said to the General, they may like me, but my family is the reason they’re burying their boys and men needlessly. I can feel how nervous Caius is, but he trusts me fully and obediently follows me without issue. What seems like hours later, we make it out of the city. The General steers us towards a group of men guarding horses. They salute him as he walks up.

“General, sir!”

He nods and they drop their salute. “My horse.”

“Yes, sir.” One of the soldiers runs off and comes back moments later with a beautiful chestnut colored horse. He hands the reins to the General and salutes before going back to his post. The General turns to me.

“We will ride to camp. Stay close to me. Keep that palla over your hair, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He watches me for a moment, his hand coming up to rub his horse’s nose. “Ready?”

I swing myself up onto Caius in one fluid motion, one that I had been doing for the majority of my life and at least 10 years with Caius. His eyes linger on me as I settle in, adjusting my palla to cover my hair. Our eyes meet and he holds my gaze for just a brief moment before blinking and looking back towards his own horse, swinging himself onto the saddle. Despite my situation, I can't help but to think...

Damn he looks good on a horse.

We don’t ride far, maybe a quarter or so mile from my city. We break through a line in the trees and I gasp - an entire camp has been built, complete with walls, tents, cooks, all of it. The soldiers by the wall call out and the gates creak open, General Acacius riding through the opening, glancing back once to make sure I’m following. We wind through the camp to where the horses are kept. He hops down from his chestnut mount and offers me his hand to help me down from Caius. I hesitate a moment before linking my hand with his and slide off of my horse. General Acacius nods to a young man and hands him the reigns to his horse, motioning to me to do the same.

“I promise they will take good care of him.”

I give Caius a pat on his head and hand the reigns to the boy, who leads both horses off towards the makeshift stable area.

“Follow me,” The General commands and I comply, my sandals squishing in the mud as I go. We arrive at a grand tent, some soldiers stationed outside, one of which holds open a flap to allow General Acacius inside. He motions for me to follow and I do, feeling the tent flap close behind me. The tent is just as large as it appears. One side has a table with maps on it with little pins placed all over it. There are some traveling chests, which I assume house either weapons or other clothing or armor. On the other side of the tent is a room divider, behind which is a mattress and a small area for changing. A loud clank snaps me back to my reality and I see The General lay a sword on another table, this one set closer to his sleeping area. He removes his bracers as well, rubbing his wrists after he does so, glancing up at me.

“I will instruct my men to not touch you, but I would advise you stick to my tent.”

“I- yes. I understand, General.”

He barks out a name and I jump, the volume catching me off guard. A man enters the tent and salutes.

“Sir?”

“Fetch me some bath water for my…guest.”

“Yes, sir.” The tent flap closes behind the man as he goes off to bring the bath water.

There are a few moments of silence where he watches me, his eyes quickly glancing down my body and back up. “You can leave your belongings here.” He walks over to the divider and motions for me to follow. He points to a small crate in the corner. “You can set your bag here. I have some space in a chest for your things when we pack tomorrow.”

“Oh. Thank you, sir.”

He’s so close now, I could reach out and touch him. I want to, his greying curls and dark eyes heating me in ways I didn’t know possible. He blinks, shaking his head slightly.

“I will have them make you a sleeping mat, but you may not get it for a bit. You can take mine and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Absolutely not.”

He cocks his head slightly to the side, curious at this woman who would say no to him. “Excuse me?”

I clear my throat. “I won’t have the general of Rome sleeping on the floor. I can do that.”

“But, you are my guest, and a woman. I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Well then, I guess we’ll just have to share.” The words come out of my mouth before I can think. He fights back a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“You would share a bed with a man who is not your husband?”

“My husband has been dead for many years. And not just any man. The man who saved my life.”

He watches me still, his eyes softening but somehow dark. He reaches out, hesitating a moment before gripping my upper arm. “I am sorry for your loss….well, if you insist, I promise to be respectful until we can get you your own mat.”

I speak quietly. “When I get my own mat, then you’ll be disrespectful?” I don’t intend for him to hear, but sometimes my inner thoughts become outer ones. His eyes meet mine and he opens his mouth to speak, but then several men enter with a tub full of water and the moment passes, General Acacius holding my gaze for a moment longer before dismissing the men. He pulls over another room divider and places it in front of the bathtub, gesturing towards it. “This is for you. I’ll personally stand outside to make sure no one enters.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

I take my time bathing, knowing that it may be a moment before I’m able to again. The water is cool when I emerge, wrapping a blanket around me and wringing out my hair. I pull on a clean tunic and sit on the sleeping mat, grateful that I’d packed a brush. The General returns a few minutes later, poking his head around the corner.

“Oh. I assumed you would be asleep.”

“Almost. I won’t take up too much space.”

He waves his hand. “I am not worried.” He shuffles around, grabs some tunics from a chest, and disappears, reappearing later with wet hair that has started to curl, in a fresh tunic, sans armor. He gets on the mat beside me, trying his best with his broad frame to give me space.

“General Acacius, it’s ok. Take as much space as you need. Tell me if you need more. Whatever you want, I will give it.”

He shifts a bit longer. “You are fine. Breakfast will be brought to us in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, General.” I settle into my spot, trying to take up as little space as possible. It’s quiet, quieter than I thought a camp would be.

“Thank you,” I whisper to him in the dark. I know he doesn’t hear me, but I wanted to say it anyway.

“You’re welcome,” a whisper back. I smile, knowing that I at least made some sort of headway into us getting to know each other. I meant what I’d said before -I will be loyal and go wherever he wants me. Do whatever he needs me to do. I owe him my life.

It’s early when I wake, I can tell by the quietness of the camp. Slowly, I become aware of my immediate surroundings, remembering the events of the previous day. It’s then I feel something heavy draped across my waist. I crack an eye open and look down, seeing The General’s arm casually slung across me. His breaths puff out on my neck and I can tell he’s in a deep sleep. But then he shifts and..oh.

He’s hard and pressed against my ass, pushing against me slightly in his sleep to relieve some of the pressure. It’s been so long since I’ve had any interaction this way, let alone with someone I’m attracted to. I’m torn as to what to do. If I wake him, I don’t want him to be embarrassed. If he needs me in that way, I will happily consent. Beg for it, even. But I don’t want to be presumptuous either and take advantage of him, even if it’s just to feel his warm, protective presence. My body seems to make the decision for me, my hips grinding back on their own accord. A few seconds goes by before his hand moves and he grips my hip, his fingers digging into my skin.

“You need to stop moving.”

My cheeks heat instantly and I’m relieved he can’t see my face. “O-oh. I’m sorry if I was bothering you.”

“Not bothering me. I am trying to be respectful and you’re making it…difficult.”

“Who says you need to be respectful?”

His fingers dig in tighter and I inhale sharply, the sensation going straight between my legs. He presses himself closer to me, which heats me up more. He stays like that for several moments, his breaths fanning out over the side of my neck. But then he pulls away and sits up, my back feeling cold with his absence.

“No. I cannot ask that of you.”

I sit up too, turning to face him. “You would not be taking advantage. I meant what I said - I am yours in whatever way you need me. I will follow you wherever you want me.”

His eyes find mine, deep and dark, as he contemplates my words. He opens his mouth to speak but then the tent flap opens and a man calls out that breakfast is ready. The General’s mouth slams shut and his expression changes. “Place it on the table.” The man complies and the tent flap closes again.

He gently places his hand over mine. “Come. Let’s eat.”

The Roman troops are impressive.

That day, they pack up the entire camp and start the long trek towards our next destination, which is at least several days worth of traveling by land. And every night they build an entirely new camp that looks identical to the one they had outside of my city. It’s mind boggling.

Ever since our first night, The General tries harder to keep a respectful distance from me, not wanting me to feel pressured or obligated to do anything. He keeps me close though, always keeping an eye on me to make sure I’m safe. A week goes by and we’re in his tent, him pouring over maps and moving the little pieces and pins, me reading a book that he pulled from one of his chests. A soldier enters the tent with a tray of food and the General motions to his side table. The soldier leaves and I close my book, watching General Acacius for a few minutes, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stares at his board, a single curl falling forward onto his forehead. I quietly get up and cross the space to him, gently squeezing his arm.

“Hey. Come eat.”

He blinks and looks down at me, heaving a big sigh. “You’re right. I need a break.” He follows me back to the table and sits, starting to eat some of the cooked meat the men had brought in.

“Have you thought about what you want to do once we capture the next city?” He takes a bite out of the meat and watches me as he chews.

“Are you asking me to leave?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Damn I want to lick it. “War is no place for a lady.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He studies me for a moment. “You may do what you want. I told you you are free.”

“And I told you that I will follow you.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“You saved my life.”

“You do not wish to get married?”

I shrug. “I was married before. But I am not objecting to marrying again. To the right person.”

He takes another bite of meat and thoroughly chews it before speaking. “What happened to him? Your husband. You mentioned his passing before.”

I’m honestly surprised he hadn’t asked before. We had started having little talks at meals, but it wasn’t about anything heavy.

“Remus was a kind man. He was the eldest son of the wealthiest merchant in our city. My father arranged our marriage to unite our houses. He was wealthy and had his own estate. We married and I moved in with him. I…suppose I loved him, in a content way. Like I said, Remus was kind, despite his hard exterior with his business dealings. He made sure I had everything I wanted. He had bought me Caius when he was just a foal. However, a few months after we were wed, he was called to the army. He left, proud to serve his people, despite his family begging him not to go. He never returned.” I take a sip from my mug, giving myself a moment to gather myself. “It was..hard, after he had passed. We had not really had a chance to have children. His family returned me to my family after a grieving period. I was allowed to keep Caius only because he had formed such a fierce attachment to me, along with some trinkets and clothes. Honestly, Remus would’ve been appalled at the way his family moved me from the estate. Anyway, I moved back in with my father and brother. A few years later, my father became ill and passed away, leaving me to my brother, Cato. He was abusive, verbally and physically. But I had nowhere to go. I dreamt every day that someone would come to take me away from him. But he always reminded me that no one would want someone who was used and old.” I shrug, taking another sip before meeting his eyes. “When I say you saved my life, I mean it. I am not simply in your debt. I want to be here.” He watches me for several moments, his jaw ticking as he fiddles with his mug. He sits up and leans forward, placing his large hand over mine.

“I am sorry you had to endure all of that tragedy.”

“Thank you, General.”

“Marcus. Call me Marcus.”

My stomach flutters. “Marcus. Thank you.”

We’re back in the saddle the next day, me on Caius and him on his beautiful chestnut horse, Augustus. He has been softer with me since I told him my story, chatting and making jokes. He’s still respectful, never wanting to push a boundary. One that he set himself, I might add. Another camp goes up, this one built a little differently. There are more wood cabins instead of tents and Marcus explains that we may be here more than a night or two. We eventually settle into our bed, another mattress somehow never appearing for me. Not that I’m reminding anyone.

“We ride out in the morning. I want you to stay in this cabin, do you understand?”

“Y-yeah. Yes. Of course.”

He turns to me on his side, his eyes on me in the dimly lit space as I roll to look at him. He speaks quietly, but firm and I think I can make out worry in his eyes.

“I will have Caius ready and waiting for you outside. If you hear any soldiers, you take him and you ride. You run, do you understand me?”

“Yes, but what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. You get to safety. That is your priority. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but-”

In an unexpected move, he reaches out and cups my cheek, his eyes on mine. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

I place my hand over his. “I promise.”

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