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rmadridcore · 12 days ago

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Cabin Moments

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: After a hilarious cookie mishap, you and Jude escape the cold and find yourselves melting into each other in a cabin warmed by love and a crackling fire.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: I’ve been wanting to write something Christmas themed and I decided to combine it with one of my requests ✨ Hope you’ll love it, happy holidays everyone 🤍🤍🤍

Jude had approached baking with the same confidence he brought to the pitch, but the batter currently clinging to the ceiling suggested otherwise. It was a few days before Christmas, and after ending the year with a win, Jude had whisked you away on the snowy getaway you’d both been looking forward to for weeks. Nestled in a cozy, picturesque cabin surrounded by a blanket of thick, crisp snow, the two of you had every intention of soaking up this peaceful time together before heading to England to celebrate the holidays with his family.

After a playful afternoon of snowball fights and building lopsided snowmen, you’d returned to the cabin, cheeks pink from the cold and laughter. That’s when Jude had insisted on baking cookies for you — a gesture he’d framed as a “thank you” for always taking care of him during his grueling season. You’d tried, and failed, to talk him out of it, knowing all too well that Jude’s cooking was less “Michelin star” and more “hazardous experiment.”

“Babe, why is there flour on your forehead?” you asked, squinting at him from your perch at the kitchen counter. Your chin rested in your palm as you watched his questionable culinary process unfold.

“Because the bag exploded on its own,” he replied, his tone completely serious as he stirred a bowl of unidentifiable liquid that was supposed to be cookie dough.

“Uh-huh,” you said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “And I’m guessing the whisk didn’t magically fling batter onto the ceiling either?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Okay, that one might’ve been me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. It was impossible to stay annoyed when he looked so determined, even if his methods were… unconventional. He whisked the mixture with such vigor you half-expected the bowl to launch itself off the counter. Butter, eggs, sugar, flour, vanilla, and a pinch of salt were haphazardly combined in a way that made you want to intervene at least ten times. The butter wasn’t properly melted, the flour was clearly insufficient, and his measurements were more guesswork than precision — but he was so resolute in doing this himself that you decided to let him be.

And prayed the cookies wouldn’t kill you.

As Jude began shaping the dough, his brows furrowed in concentration. He rolled an oddly lumpy blob in his hands, inspecting it as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Do cookies need to be round, or is that just a societal norm?” he asked, holding up the blob for your opinion.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, doubling over as the absurdity of the question sank in. “No, Jude, they don’t need to be round,” you teased. “But it helps. Want me to take over?”

Tempted as he was by your offer, Jude stood firm. “No, thank you. I’ve got this.” His voice was confident, even as his hands struggled to mold the dough into something remotely spherical.

After what felt like an eternity, Jude triumphantly placed six misshapen dough balls onto a tray and slid them into the oven. Turning back to survey the kitchen, his eyes widened in disbelief. The once-pristine space now looked like a war zone — flour dusted every surface, utensils were strewn everywhere, and a suspicious trail of chocolate chips led to the corner of the counter.

He caught your knowing look and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe I’ll let you help with the cleanup,” he admitted sheepishly.

You grinned, grabbing a dishcloth. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As the cookies baked, the two of you worked side by side to restore some semblance of order to the kitchen, exchanging teasing remarks and stifling laughter at the chaos Jude had created. The air was filled with the warm, sweet scent of vanilla and butter, but also the undeniable warmth of shared joy and affection.

A soft ding from Jude’s phone broke the quiet, signaling that his cookies were ready.

“They’re done!” he shouted, darting to the oven with the kind of excitement you’d expect from a five year old on Christmas morning. You stifled a laugh, watching him as he carefully pulled the tray out, his expression radiating pride.

His enthusiasm was endearing, until you remembered the last time he’d insisted on cooking. You prepared yourself for what was likely going to be an unforgettable culinary experience.

The cookies cooled for a few minutes, and then you both grabbed one, each taking a tentative bite. It only took a second for reality to hit. The moment your teeth met the cookie, it felt as though your entire dental health history flashed before your eyes.

“Jude, what is this?!” you exclaimed, your jaw protesting from the sheer effort it took to chew.

Beside you, Jude was in the same boat, though he valiantly tried to act like it wasn’t a disaster. He set his cookie down slowly, as if to avoid offending it. “They’re just… crunchy,” he said, forcing nonchalance.

“They’re not crunchy, Jude. I think I just tested the limits of my dental insurance policy,” you replied, gingerly placing the cookie back on the plate and vowing never to attempt another bite.

Jude’s face fell, a cute pout forming as he stared at the offending baked goods. He looked so disappointed it tugged at your heart. Bless him, he had just wanted to make something special for you.

“It’s okay, my love,” you said, softening your tone as you approached him. You cupped his face gently and placed a sweet kiss on his lips. “I’m still so proud of you. You’ll do better next time.”

Your reassurance brought a small smile back to his face. He hugged you tightly, his chin resting atop your head as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“You probably won’t,” you whispered teasingly, unable to resist.

“Hey!” he protested, pulling back with an offended look that made you laugh.

“I’m kidding,” you said, pecking the tip of his nose. “How about you go light the fireplace, and I’ll make us some hot chocolate? Deal?”

“Deal,” he replied, clearly agreeing that cooking should forever remain your domain.

You set to work preparing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, using the adorable Christmas-themed mugs Jude’s mom had gifted the two of you just a few days ago. With the rich scent of chocolate filling the air, you carried the mugs into the living room.

Jude was already sprawled on the couch, the fireplace crackling and casting a warm, flickering glow around the room. The cabin was utterly serene, the kind of cozy that made you want to live in this moment forever.

You handed him his mug before curling up beside him, his free arm naturally draping over your shoulders.

For a while, the two of you sipped your drinks in peaceful silence, the warmth of the fire wrapping around you like a soft blanket. It was a much-needed pause, a rare moment of tranquility amid the chaos of your lives.

“I wish I could freeze time,” Jude murmured, his voice breaking the quiet as he rested his head against yours. “Just stay like this forever.”

“What would we even do all day?” you teased, humming contentedly as the sweet, creamy liquid soothed your throat.

“This,” he replied simply, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your arm. “And maybe… I’d hold you a little closer.”

His words made your heart swell. You turned to look at him, your eyes brimming with affection. The way the firelight danced across his features left you breathless. He was stunning, and in this light, his expression so relaxed, so full of love, he somehow seemed even more beautiful.

“You look so different like this,” you whispered, your fingers grazing his jaw in a tender caress.

“Different?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Softer,” you said, smiling as your hand lingered on his cheek.

“Softer, huh?” he teased, his lips quirking into a grin. “That’s a first.”

“Not your muscles, silly,” you replied, rolling your eyes playfully. “Your eyes. They’re glowing. Like you’re thinking about something.”

He gazed deeply into your eyes, his demeanor calm and tender. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have you,” he said softly, his words making your heart flutter, as they always did.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against his, gifting him a short but heartfelt kiss that carried every ounce of your affection.

Turning your head, you let your eyes settle on the fire burning in the hearth, its soft glow casting a magical warmth over the room. “There’s something about this moment,” you murmured, “something magical, isn’t there?”

Jude brushed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment as his arms tightened around you. “You’re the magic,” he whispered against your skin. “The rest is just the setting.”

Your gaze flicked back to him, your chest swelling with love as a warm, fuzzy feeling settled deep within you. He reached for your mug, setting it alongside his on the coffee table.

“I don’t want anything between us, not even hot chocolate,” he explained when you gave him a curious look.

Before you could respond, he pulled you into his embrace, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and brimming with emotion. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and you granted him entry, allowing him to explore your mouth with delicate care. His hands traced slow, soothing patterns along your back as he lowered you onto the couch, his body hovering over yours, never breaking the kiss.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, nails grazing softly along his skin, sending visible shivers through him. He moaned quietly into your mouth, the sound igniting a fire in your belly.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his lips trailing a path to your neck where he began leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses. His warm breath sent tingles coursing through you, your skin heating beneath his touch. “I love you more than anything.”

“Jude,” you sighed his name, your voice a soft groan of pleasure. “I love you too.”

He hooked one of your legs over his hip, his lips continuing their worshipful journey along your neck and collarbone. Jude’s hands worked quickly, pulling his top off in one swift motion before reaching for your sweater, lifting it over your head. You unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, your bare skin now exposed to his hungry gaze.

He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin while his mouth captured the peak of your other breast. His lips and tongue teased your nipple with a mix of tenderness and desire, leaving you breathless as soft moans slipped from your lips.

“Jude,” you moaned again, the sound spurring him on.

Hearing you say his name like that was his greatest reward — a confirmation that he was making you feel good. It fueled him, his own pleasure second to the joy of knowing he was satisfying you.

Within moments, the rest of your clothes were discarded, leaving you naked beneath him. The firelight danced across your skin, painting you in a soft, golden glow that took Jude’s breath away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours. “I’m obsessed with you.”

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers exploring your wet folds with slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You were already ready for him, Jude had that effect on you. Just his touch, his words, even the way he looked at you could leave you completely undone.

You whimpered softly as his fingers left you, watching as he stroked himself a few times before positioning himself at your entrance. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as he began to push into you slowly.

A deep groan escaped your lips as he filled you, stretching you perfectly in a way that was both intense and utterly satisfying. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging slightly into his skin as you adjusted to his size.

When you tilted your hips upward, your body signaling your readiness, he began to move, his thrusts slow and purposeful as he lost himself in you.

A soft, almost inaudible sigh escapes your lips as Jude begins to move, his hips rocking slowly, savoring every second. There’s no rush — neither of you are in a hurry. For the first time in what feels like forever, you both have all the time in the world to explore each other’s bodies, to bask in the tenderness and love that envelopes the moment.

His rhythm is steady and purposeful, his thrusts full of affection. Each movement feels like a silent declaration of how much he loves you.

Jude lifts his head to meet your gaze, his dark eyes melting into yours, filled with devotion and longing. Your fingers curl into the back of his head, your breaths mingling as your hearts beat in perfect synchrony.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” he whispers, his voice soft yet full of intensity, as if the words themselves carry the weight of his entire heart. His hand gently brushes strands of hair away from your face, revealing every detail of your expression.

Your eyes hold all the emotion that words could never fully express. If others wear their hearts on their sleeves, you and Jude carry yours in your eyes, transparent and undeniable.

He moves gently within you, every thrust igniting a fire in your core, sending pleasure rippling through your body. His lips find yours, warm and inviting, and his tongue slips past your parted lips to deepen the kiss. Slowly, he trails his kisses along your jawline, then down to your neck, his mouth hot against your skin.

Soft moans spill from your lips as his pace quickens, each movement perfectly calculated to bring you closer to the edge. Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper as your hands explore the expanse of his back. He groans softly against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your skin tingle.

“You feel so good,” Jude murmurs, his voice thick with adoration. “So perfect.”

His large hand moves to cup your breast, his fingers teasing the hardened peak with a gentle pinch. He presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder, his lips lingering on your heated skin.

“Jude, you make me feel so good,” you say breathlessly, tilting your head back to give him more access. Your words spur him on, his lips trailing even lower, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

Hearing you say those words is everything to Jude. It fuels him, his desire to make you happy, to make you feel cherished, surging through him like a tidal wave. He pauses, his lips leaving your skin to gaze into your eyes once more.

“Y/N, you’re my everything,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. His eyes lock with yours, and you see the love radiating from them. It’s overwhelming, almost too much to bear, yet you welcome it, reveling in the intensity of his feelings for you.

Even without his words, you can feel it. His every touch, every glance, every moment you’ve shared has shown you how much he adores you. But hearing him say it, especially now, sends warmth flooding through your chest.

He captures your hand in his, bringing it above your head, intertwining your fingers tightly. His thrusts remain slow and deliberate, his body perfectly aligned with yours as he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours.

“You’re mine, right?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

The question feels so silly to you, but you know Jude well enough to understand the quiet need for reassurance beneath it. Even though he knows your heart belongs to him, hearing you say it, especially in a moment this intimate, brings him a joy he can’t describe.

You smile, your free hand gently cupping his face as you whisper, “Of course, my love. I’m yours. Forever.”

The words ignite something within him. His thrusts pick up slightly, enough to send waves of pleasure cascading through your body, inching you closer to the edge. Your soft cries of pleasure echo in his ears, and he knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be — wrapped in your arms, lost in the love you share.

Jude gazed down at you, his breaths heavy and labored but his heart fuller than ever. To him, you felt like a dream, a tangible piece of heaven he could hold, yet somehow still untouchably divine. There was an ethereal connection between the two of you, unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

The moment he had you in his life, he knew there was no going back. How could he? You made him feel like he was perpetually on cloud nine. You were the light that brightened even the most ordinary days, a warmth that banished every shadow.

As his pace quickened, your fingers squeezed his tightly. He responded by leaning down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deep, fervent, and all-consuming. It wasn’t just a kiss — it was a declaration, a pouring out of emotions from the deepest corners of both your hearts.

To Jude, it felt as though he were floating on warm water, his entire being weightless and suspended in bliss. His heart swelled, threatening to burst from how much he loved you.

“I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with sincerity.

And he truly felt like the luckiest man alive. You loved him without reservation, understood him like no one else ever had, and supported him in ways that made him feel invincible. He never thought his life had been lacking before he met you, but now, he understood — nothing could ever compare to the completeness he felt with you by his side.

His thrusts quickened slightly, urgency mingling with tenderness as both of you approached your highs. Your intertwined hands tightened simultaneously, the shared gesture grounding you both in the moment.

Your lips remained locked as the peak hit, his warm release filling you just as your orgasm surged through you, sending tremors down your spine. Your walls clenched around him, eliciting a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest that you swallowed with your own cries of pleasure.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your labored breaths mingling with the soft crackle of the fire. Jude slumped against you, his weight resting on you in a way that felt grounding and secure. He was careful not to crush you, but he also didn’t want to break the closeness of the moment.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his head, gently caressing his slightly damp hair. The soothing motion sent shivers down his spine yet again, a sensation that never seemed to grow old no matter how often you touched him.

The cabin was silent, save for the occasional pop of the firewood. Outside, the snow was falling heavily, blanketing the world in stillness and cold. But inside, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, you felt untouched by the chill.

Jude rested his head on your chest, pressing lazy, loving kisses along your collarbone as he listened to your heartbeat — steady, soothing, and his favorite sound in the world. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, the crackling fire and the scent of pine only adding to the magic of the moment.

Though it felt like perfection, both of you knew this was just the beginning. With Christmas just around the corner, the love and passion you shared promised even more magic ahead. And as the snow continued to fall outside, you lay there together, hearts full, basking in a warmth that no fire could ever rival.

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starryevermore · 1 year ago

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the house of snow (1) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow.

word count: 2,764

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: no use of y/n, you cannot stand coryo, not proofread

Coriolanus Snow’s rise to the throne was something you never expected to come to fruition. When you were younger, you remembered your peers talking about how Snow wanted to one day rule Panem. At the time, you thought it was just another wild dream of a child. Something a child would say when an adult asks what they wish to be when they grow up. “A pirate!” one might exclaim. Or, perhaps, “A painter!” The sort of thing that a sensible parent would shrug off and not dedicate anymore thought to. The Snow family, as it turned out, was not particularly sensible.

When the Former King Ravinstill died without warning, the throne was left vacant. Everyone knew that the old man had little life left in him. Yet, despite his age, he had a tendency to power through. No one thought he would have lived as long as he did, but he had. So, the Electors had not yet begun considering his replacement. No one had been prepared enough to seek candidacy. No one, except Coriolanus Snow. A few other eligible persons put forth their names, but no one garnered support quite like the young man. From a prominent family, the son of a general, had served briefly himself, intelligent, and had the financial backing of the Plinth family? There was no version of history where Snow could lose.

Within weeks of Ravinstill’s death, Snow was crowned King.

You did not care for politics, so you knew little of his reign. But your father seemed pleased, talking often and loudly about how the young Snow would restore Panem to its former glory. You weren’t so sure of that. Though you did not interact with him often in your younger years, you remembered Snow as someone who was self-serving. Who would pretend to care if only it could further his own interests. He very well might let all of Panem burn if it meant he could gain from it. But your father was quite pleased with Snow as King and, when word began to spread that Snow would be seeking a bride this next social season, your father pushed hard for you to woo the King.

“If you wish to serve your family well, my little dove, you will convince the King to marry you,” your father told you the moment he heard the news.

You all but scoffed. “I hardly think I am the sort of woman he wishes to marry. A man like him would want someone meek, someone who would not challenge his authority. We hardly ever agreed on the schoolyard, and for that reason, he never considered me a friend. How could he ever see me as a wife?”

Your father’s eyes narrowed at you. “It is your responsibility, then, to make yourself small so that he may choose you.”

“I would rather die than sacrifice my ideals, Papa,” you said. “Why can I not vie for any other’s attention? I know Lord Plinth quite well. I’ve always enjoyed his company. It would be easy to win his heart and have our family set for life. Certainly easier than winning over the King.”

He sneered, “The only thing the Plinth family is good for is their money. I want to be respected. We would be little more than social pariahs if you wed the Plinth boy.”

“I shall not marry the King—”

Your mother stepped in before you could say something you might come to regret. She placed a hand on your arm, directing your attention to her. “Never mind that now. There is still time before the season begins for minds to be changed.”

“I shall not change my mind, Mama.”

She looked over at your father, who was the perfect picture of irate. She looked back to you. “Perhaps, but perhaps not. Let us go clear our minds, yes? We should go order new gowns at the modiste before everyone else floods her with demands.”

“You cannot distract me with fashion.”

“But you would do well to pretend that I have.”

Your efforts to convince your parents that you would not, under any circumstance whatsoever, marry Coriolanus Snow did not do anything for you. Despite your best efforts, you now stood in the palace for the King’s Ball, wearing the most beautiful powder blue gown fresh from the modiste, trying and failing to hide from your mother, so that you might delay her forcing you onto Snow. For now, though, she had been distracted by a conversation with Lady Dovecote about…whatever mothers talked about. Surely some scheme that would end with either you or Clemensia as Snow’s betrothed. You rolled your eyes at the thought.

A familiar voice said your name. When you turned, you were greeted by the sight of Sejanus Plinth, holding two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to you, remarking, “I never knew you to be one to hide from the crowd.”

“I shall hide from the crowd when my mama is convinced I shall become Queen by the end of the season.”

“Ah.” Sejanus took a drink and laughed. “Strange, isn’t it? Seeing everyone we grew up with vying for Coryo’s attention.”

Coryo? Oh, yes. That was the nickname those close to Snow would call him. You had forgotten that the two were friends. Hmm, perhaps you could use that information the next time your parents try to force a connection with Snow. Something about how getting close to his friend might make him interested in you. “That it is. It seems as though everyone has lost their minds just for a glimpse of the crown.”

Sejanus laughed again. Then he looked at you a little more seriously, and said, “If I am honest, I am surprised you are not among those fighting for Coryo’s attention.”

Your brows pinched together. “You think I am interested in climbing the social ladder? Lord Plinth, you should know me well enough that I care more for a love match than gaining a title.”

“No, no. That is not what I meant. I remember in school that you and Coryo always had a sort of connection. Truthfully, I thought one of you might have acted on it sooner when you entered society.”

“The only connection we had was that of hatred. We despised each other.”

Sejanus shook his head, his curls bouncing. “I do not think that was true for Coryo. He liked that you challenged him. He has never been the sort of person who liked people who switch their position when the tide seems to turn. He likes people who are firm in their convictions.”

You laughed. “He’s told you this?”

“Not in so many words. But you have to wonder why he always sought you out.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps he is crueler than we all think.”

Sejanus moved to protest, but another beat him to it. “Or perhaps you judge without truly knowing.”

You froze. Oh, how you had hoped that you could have avoided him tonight! Damn Sejanus and his friendship with Snow. So much for him being your safe haven during these balls. You might as well have lit a beacon leading straight to you. Alas, you did not want Snow to see the hatred you had brewing for him. Even if you did not like the man, you would be a social pariah if you made such feelings known to him. So, you painted on a smile as you turned to look at Snow. “Or perhaps I made an educated guess supported by the evidence of past interactions.”

Snow snorted, turning his gaze to Sejanus. “Always so quick with a response, she is.”

Sejanus glanced at you, a knowing look in his eyes. If you were a mindreader, you could imagine him gloating in his mind about how he was right, that this was a sign that Snow cared for you in some way. But you only knew it to be yet another indicator that you and Snow could never, ever, get along. “Her wit has never dulled.”

“Should we see, then, if her dance skills are still equally sharp?”

Sejanus looked at you again, a brilliant smile on his face. Oh, how you wished to wipe that look off. This was not proof of anything. This did not prove his point. “I could not think of anything better.”

Damn you, Sejanus Plinth. Damn you.

Snow held his arm out for you to take. You stared at it, not moving. “In order to dance with a lady, you must ask her. I do not recall you asking me anything.”

Snow glanced just beyond you. When you turned your head to follow his gaze, you saw your mother and Lady Dovecote watching the interaction carefully. As you looked back at Snow, he said, “Your mother would be disappointed if you did not dance with me.”

“It is amazing you became King when you are so lacking in manners.” But you knew your mother—the entirety of the ton, perhaps—would consider you insane to turn the King down so openly. So you took his arm and let him lead you onto the dance floor.

He snorted. “You are the only person who speaks so freely to me.”

“Ah, so this is one last dance before my execution? How kind. Perhaps I was wrong about your cruelty.”

“There is much you are wrong about,” Snow said. You had reached the dance floor. The crowd parted around you, allowing you and Snow to take the middle of the floor. You faced him, allowing his hand to fall to you waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder, and let him take the other in his free hand. “It would be far too much of a shame to take your life.”

“Such a kind and gentle king.”

“Only for those who deserve it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother miming for you to smile. You fought the urge to sneer instead. Even if you would rather do anything else than be courted by Coriolanus Snow, acting out would not do you any favors. If you had any hope in finding a love match, you had to at least be cordial to him. So you smiled as prettily as you could. But you couldn’t help yourself from saying, “Then perhaps you should go see a physician. You seem to have lost your mind.”

To your surprise, Snow laughed. The sound almost scared you. When was the last time you heard Snow laugh? An actual laugh, at that. None of his snorts of derision or half-hearted chuckles when he was trying to charm someone. Had you ever heard him laugh before? You tried to wrack your brain, but you could not recall anything. In school, he had always been so serious—focused more on using the tools available to him to climb the social ladder rather than being a kid like everyone else. Though, you supposed, Snow was a far cry from everyone else.

The music began to play, and Snow spun you around the dance floor. As you turned, you locked eyes with Sejanus. He wore a large grin on his face, seemingly sure that you and Snow were making nice. Why else would he have laughed at something you said? You wished you could yell out to Sejanus, tell him that he was dead wrong.

“What is it that people say? Something about love driving people mad?”

This time, you did roll your eyes. “Oh, come off it. You and I both know perfectly well that you do not care for me. I hardly understand why you’re even entertaining this nonsense, if for no other reason than to torture me.”

Snow considered you. After a long moment of silence, he said, “I seek a bride who will produce me an heir. There are few women here who meet my standards. A woman of good breeding, from a respectable family, and intelligent enough to keep up with me. Someone who will be a good Queen and a good mother.”

“Someone that you can control.” You scoff. “You truly must see a physician, Your Majesty, if you think that I will fall in line with whatever you ask of me.”

His lips curled into a grin. Your stomach churned. “Not yet.”

The next morning, your mother promptly reported that you had danced with Coriolanus Snow not once, not twice, but three times to your father. To say he had been pleased was something of an understatement. He was certain that Snow would soon be reaching out to discuss a proposal. It did not matter how much you tried to downplay the situation—explain that he was only dancing with you for some other reason than him wishing to marry you. Your parents minds were made up. By the end of the season, you were to be Queen of Panem.

“It’s just the nerves,” your mother dismissed as you sat in the drawing room, waiting for any suitor to call on you. “You will be more than confident once you are wed.”

You ground your teeth together. “I do not wish to marry Coriolanus Snow. I would marry anyone else. I would let you or Papa pick anyone else in the ton and I would not let out a single complaint. I cannot marry that man.”

Something just beyond you caught your mother’s attention. Your father, you supposed. “You should not say such things—” she began to say. Of course. Of course she would say that.

“Why not? It is true. I would be miserable with him. I would rather die than be his bride, bear his children. Frankly, forcing me to marry him may as well be a death sentence.”

“Dear, you do not truly mean that—”

“And you must not know me at all if you think I am not being completely, and utterly, truthful right now. Coriolanus Snow is the last man I would ever wish to marry.”

Your mother leaned in close to you, hissing, “Stop talking right now, young lady.”

A frown settled on your face. Why was she so bothered about you speaking so freely? There was no one in the room but you, her, and a maid. Perhaps she was concerned about the maid spreading gossip with other maids and that slowly enveloping the ton. It wasn’t a non-possibility, to be sure. But why was she acting so…scandalized by your words?

Unless…

You turned your head toward the entrance of the room. There should Coriolanus Snow, dressed in a dark red suit, holding a bouquet of white roses. Your mouth went dry. Oh, why does he keep showing up when you least expect it? “The butler typically announces when a guest has arrived,” you said.

You couldn’t read his face. A part of you wondered if you had offended him. You didn’t particularly care about offending him, but you also knew that such an act could have dire consequences on you marrying anyone else. “He was going to, but I wanted my arrival to be a surprise.” He took a step closer to you, holding out the roses. “I just had these freshly picked from my garden.”

A part of you wanted to smack the roses out of his hands, but you had already embarrassed your mother enough in front of Snow. You took the roses, yet couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “I cannot believe a man like you could grow something so beautiful.”

Your mother let out a loud—obviously fake—laugh. “Oh, isn’t she just funny? She always says the silliest things.”

Snow chuckled. He smiled at your mother—the sort of smile that your stomach twist into knots. Like he knew something no one else did, and he was reveling in that. “It is one of her more…charming traits.” He turned his attention back to you. “As lovely as this is, I came to ask if you would like to promenade with me in the square.”

Oh, Snow. Why was he so good at backing you into corners? You took a breath and passed the bouquet to the maid so she could put them in a vase. “That would be nothing short of a delight.”

He held out his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his bicep, your nails digging in. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned down so that you could only hear him whisper, “It seems like you fall in line much easier than you would like to believe.”

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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ninibeingdelulu · 7 months ago

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He won his game ft. seishiro nagi

The second that final whistle blows and Seishiro's team wins, his laser-focus zeroes in on finding you amidst the roaring crowd without fail. Those piercing whites cut straight through the chaos until locking onto your familiar presence like a guided missile.

Despite the swarm of celebrating teammates, coaches, staff, etc. around him, Seishiro brushes them all off without a second thought. He's a man utterly possessed, stalking straight over with those long, purposeful strides while devouring you with an almost predatory stare.

Once he reaches you though, any sense of urgency or edge melts from Seishiro's frame. That's when the subtle shifts signal his walls coming down - just the barest softening around those striking features and carved lips tugging up ever-so-slightly.

Nagi wastes zero time bundling you flush into his solid, athletic build without warning. Those calloused palms smoothing up the dip of your spine before splaying wide across your nape and lower back, arching you into an intimate bow against him.

He'll nuzzle his sweat-dampened crown into the crook of your neck or jaw, letting out these low, satisfied rumbles - almost like a purring lion scenting his most cherished mate and territory. Reveling in surrounding himself fully with your essence while basking in the victory high.

Seishiro is seldom overtly romantic or showy with PDA. But these charged, sensual moments after victories are when his uninhibited, carnal side comes roaring out from dormancy. Leaving you both utterly consumed in that scorching friction bubbling between your tangled frames.

When he finally does draw back to face you properly, don't be shocked if Seishiro abruptly frames your features with those large palms to slant his mouth hungrily over yours. Drinking you down like the last, restorative oasis available while his thumbs brush your feverish cheekbones.

After slowly separating with a sated growl, Nagi tends to linger inches away - intense pewter stare unblinking as he maps every molecule of your disheveled bliss etched across your swollen lips and fluttering lids. A primal admiration of his prowess reducing you to such sublime putty in his commanding grip once more.

So while he may not vocalize much in those private, blazing reunions, rest assured Nagi's undivided adoration pours from every minor shift and simmering caress instead. Branding you wholly as his insatiable muse and most treasured prize to be relentlessly conquered.

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ghostyeyestohide · 29 days ago

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Between Us

Pairing: Macrinus (Gladiator II) x Cassia (Plus Size Black Fem OC)

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ (MINORS, SCROLL AWAY), buildup (if you got the attention span of a squirrel, DONT READ), oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), titty sucking/fondling, worshipping, some bisexuality (kissing and handjob from m), choking, some masdom, some edging, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, age gap, slight voyeurism, cussing, aftercare, drinking, some angst, pregnancy, mentions of violence, slavery, and death, and Non-Canon/Canon (Spoilers if you haven’t seen it).

Summary: After watching the intense fight between Hanno and General Acacius, Cassia is assigned as a reward to Macrinus, in which he takes her away to spend some private time with her.

A/N: Wanted to write because I saw this and Denzel was not only evil as hell, but fine doing it. That’s a generational talent right there. Also, I do apologize if some of this is historically inaccurate or the language is nowhere close to it. I love social studies, but I know my knowledge of Roman History is quite rusty.

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do not copy or repost my work. I do not authorize it.

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Citizens in the Colosseum are going crazy, watching Hanno and General Acacius fight after the latter and his wife, Lucilla, attempted to overthrow emperors Greta and Caracalla to restore an oligarchy republic.

The crowd gets rowdy as the guards, arms with bow and arrows, are making sure they don’t riot during this.

Watching the fight from crowd is Cassia, an arm scarred, tall, voluptuous woman, sitting with her fellow sisters as their owner, Dominus, stands behind them with a stoneface expression.

“Kill him!” said Aelia, one of the girls, with the audience joining in on the cheering.

“All that yelling, yet you can’t seem to bring me more clients.” mumbled Dominus, making her look at him.

“Tell them to be gentle then. Especially to the newbie because they seem to like attempting murder on her.” she said, pointing at Cassia.

“She’s just disobedient. She’ll get there one day.” he said, gently touching her shoulder, making her shudder.

“That will be a cold day in hell.” said Cassia.

“I didn’t waste all that money on you just so you can refuse to do what you got paid to do.”

“It’s not like I had a choice.”

“And guess what? You’re my biggest attraction since I bought you, so you need to give in!”

“Nobody wants to please a bunch of rough, two minute silencers every night!” she replied, going back to watching the fight.

Suddenly, she feels her hair being yanked back, forcing her to look at Dominus’ face, a dark glare expressed over his face.

“You’re lucky we’re in public, but after we leave, you’re on punishment for the night. You get no dinner, just straight to be—“

Suddenly, a metal object strikes him across the face, making him let her hair go. As he looks to see who threw that, two guards stand next to him, holding their spears at him, close enough to stab him.

“What the hell..”

“He said to quit messing with his reward or else.” said the tall one.

“Or what?” he replied, preparing to strike.

“Wanna find out right now?”

Dominus doesn’t say nothing, just puffs out really hard. The guards puts their spears down and walks away, not saying another word to him.

“What do they mean reward?” she asks, looking at him.

“If Hanno wins, you’re someone’s reward for the night. If not…..you’re on punishment.” he replied, getting in her ear.

He goes back to his position, watching the fight with Cassia doing the same, with a bit of fear in her eyes. Who’s the stranger? I’m now a reward? I hope he isn’t like the clients I’ve dealt were racing in her mind as Hanno slices Acacius, making everyone gasp.

“COME ON, ACACIUS! FIGHT BACK!” yelled Aelia, stopping her feet to give him adrenaline.

Cassia giggled, impressed that Aelia finds this very entertaining as she doesn’t get it herself. Sure, the idea of being free sounds understandable, but you have to kill other gladiators? That’s the questionable part.

“Seen that gentleman looking at you over there?” asked Diana, another girl, as she pointed at him.

Following her direction, she looks into the boxes and sees an older, bearded black gentleman covered in gold jewelry, a white dress, and a gold tunic looking at her, intrigued by her beauty. He sends a wink at her, making her blush and look away as the sounds of swords clanging gets louder.

“You know him?”

“Kind of. I know he’s close with Hanno since he trains him and the other gladiators.”

“Ahh. So he’s their owner.”

“Yeah. Very brutal too.”

“Not surprising. They make him money, they better give the crowd a good show.”

“Mmhm. But really…..”

She pulls her close, making sure no one else is listening to their conversation before leaning towards her ear.

“They’re saying he wants to be the next emperor of Rome. He wants Geta and Caracalla out and will do anything to make it happen.” she whispered, surprising Cassia.

“Him? To run Rome? That sounds like a dream anyone wants.”

“And he’s determine to make it happen. And if he succeeds by being selected for the senate, he wants a wife that can grant him a heir so the tradition can live on.”

“How did you find all of this out?”

“Two clients me and Meena were pleasuring at once were discussing it openly. I guess they weren’t expecting whores to understand what they were talking about, but I would be cautious if I was them. He’ll get mad if someone leaks his plans.”

Cassia nodded, turning to resume watching the fight. After a few more swings, Hanno wins, making everyone cheer and boo. However, he tosses his sword and kneels in from of him, refusing to kill him.

“He’s not gonna kill him?” asked Cassia, looking at both men on the ground.

“I guess he’s standing in solidarity with the people.” said Diana, shrugging her shoulders.

Greta and Carcalla, irritated with what Hanno did, orders the guards to execute Acacius by shooting him with their arrows, which they complied, instantly killing him.

Members of the crowd begins to attack some of the guards, staring a deadly riot. To avoid being harmed, the women and Dominus depart from their seats, heading downstairs quickly as the emperors do the same, with Macrinus looking at Cassia one more time before she walks outs.

As they reach the bottom of the Colosseum, Dominus turns towards the women, irritation plastered across his face at the chaos going on in the streets.

“I want all of you to head home safely. Diana and Aelia are in charge of you. Don’t try nothing funny because I won’t hesitate to find you if you’re out here, protesting and rioting.” he uttered, giving each one a stern look.

The woman began to line up as a group, but he stops Cassia from joining them.

“Except you, Cassia. Your winner is waiting for us over here.” he said before walking towards where the gladiators were stationed at.

Cassia bids farewell to her sisters before following him, getting right in front as he directs which way to go.

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Dominus walks behind her as they past a lot of gladiators eating in the dining room.

Each are taken aback by her beauty and figure, with some whistling, some flirting, and some attempts of touching were made, but Dominus’ hollow stare scares them away.

“….do you just love to wait to inform us when you put us as rewards or this is just business for you?”

“Business.” he replied, making her roll her eyes.

As they got to where Hanno was, Macrinus, whose talking to him, turns around, dismissing him. Seeing the both of them, he greets them with a gleeful smile, walking up to them.

“Dominus! Good to see you, my boy! I see you got my reward already intact.” he says, shaking Dominus’ hand.

“Yeah. When she’s behaving right.” he replied, looking at her.

“Fuck you.” she mumbled.

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me. You got those big ass ears for a reason.”

“And who is this beauty?”

“Macrinus, this is Cassia. She’s your reward from today’s victory.” he said, shoving her to the ground.

Macrinus looks at her, very shocked that Dominus tossed her like she wasn’t valuable before sending him a menacing look.

“She’ll accompany you to the celebration and will do anything you request. Just you might have to push her.” he continued.

“And why is that?”

“She’s a disobedient girl. Scaring off clients, cheating me out of money.”

“That’s not true!” she said, irritation in her voice.

Dominus gets in her space, giving her a stern look, which makes her bow her head down.

“Who are you talking to?” he asks, grabbing her face to force her to look at him. “Hm? Who are you raising your voice at?”

“That’s enough, Dominus.” said Macrinus, getting between them. “I don’t need you showing your ass in front of guests now.”

“She was being disrespectful. Someone needs to put her in her place—“

“I don’t give a damn what she did. I won the bet, she’s my reward, and she’ll be with me all night while they’re destroying shit. So, what else can I help you with?” he asks, helping her up.

“I’m just putting her—“

“WHAT else can I help you with? I’m not gonna ask you again and you know how I get if I don’t get an answer.”

Dominus looks at her one more time, before clearing his throat and handing him his bag of jewelry. Macrinus takes it, still keeping his eyes on him.

“I’ll be back at prima noctis hora for her. Make sure she doesn’t harm you, my lord. Ave.” he replied, nodding his head and leaving.

Macrinus watches him leave before turning to Cassia, hopefulness blooming in her eyes. He looks her up and down, taking in a better view of a goddess.

“Cassia, huh?” he asked, taking her hand.

“Yes, sir. I mean, my lord.” she nodded, anxiety growing within her.

“Oh, call me Macrinus. You don’t have to say the title shit while you’re with me.” he says, placing a kiss on her hands.

She blushes, feeling the heat building inside her as she feels the coolness of his rings rub against her hand.

“You sure you don’t mind another name?”

“Only if I want you to call me that.” he smiles, hooking his arm around hers as they began walking.

They headed towards the cells to see Hanno before they depart. As they walk through, he notices the attraction she’s getting, which makes him pulls her closer to him.

“You have a beautiful name, you know?” he asks.

“Now what’s beautiful about having a name meaning metal helmet?”

He chuckles, gently rubbing her arm as they turn into a tunnel.

“While it does mean that here, its means cinnamon in other places. It’s a spice, but also symbolizes warmth, harmony, and abundance. You were meant to be here.”

“So eventually, I could become the wife of a future general or Emperor.” she says happily.

“……I think the last one would suit you really well.” he says, giving her a smirk.

She smiles back as they arrive to Hanno’s cell, where Macrinus tells her to wait here as he talks to him. He enters, with the gate closing behind him.

As she waits, she overhears his plans of taking over Rome, saying their dynasty is no longer needed to run it, revealing that Hanno is the missing son of Lucilla, Lucius.

“And does your new whore agree with what you’re planning to do?” Hanno asks him, making her look through the gate.

“….she probably won’t mind because not only will she be better than Lucilla, she’s bare a heir that will run this place better than your people did.” Macrinus replied, getting up to leave.

“You won’t make it far.”

“Oh trust me. I will prevail with ending your dynasty.” he said confidently, walking out of the cell.

Macrinus looks at Cassia, who stands in front of him very bothered by what Lucius said about her. He brushes her hair out of her face before making out with her passionately, gripping her ass. She moans at the touch, kissing him back. He breaks the kiss, smiling as they both look at Lucius.

“Come on, Cassia. We have a celebration to attend.” he said, walking away and pull her with him.

She looks at Lucius one more time, who meets her eyes from his cell, before turning forward.

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As they walk through the crowd of people, Macrinus and Cassia converse closely, looking at the celebration of Hanno’s win around them and the rioting of General Acacius’s death, clashing with the guards.

Drinking, eating, dancing, loud conversations, music, sales of imported goods, clothes, gold, fire pits, fighting, yelling, and more are seen in the busy streets of Rome.

“Besides being the trainer of the gladiators and dressing well, what else do you do?” asked Cassia, looking at him.

“I provide them food and oil to them and the arm. Something the emperors should be doing instead of replicating everything wrong Commodus did.” he replied, smiling at her.

“Sounds like you want them out as soon as possible.”

“….depends on who you’re asking.”

“Whether it’s true or not….I’m behind it.” she said, whispering the last part in his ear.

“Hm.” he replied, looking at her eyes as he rubbed her hand.

The two continued walking into a secluded area, where they come across a table filled with many varieties of food. from fruits to cheese to meats and different types of bread.

Macrinus sends a nod at a guard before grabbing two plates and pilling his with grapes, meats, some cheese, and bread before looking at Cassio, who waiting patiently.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked.

“Oh no.” she shakes her head. “I don’t really eat or drink. Well, I don’t get fed.”

“Why not?” he asked, grabbing a white wine bottle and pouring it into two glasses.

“Um…” she swallows. “It’s punishment for not satisfying a customer. While Dominus and the girls who completed their tasks get full meals, the girls who didn’t get either the crumbs or nothing. Which is usually me.” she replied, slightly embarrassed with revealing that.

Macrinus laughs, shaking his head as he plates her food with everything, even adding extras.

“Well, around here, you’re not gonna starve. And I’ll make sure to remind him of that since you’re doing all the work that fills his pockets. Got it?”

She nods, smiling a bit as he grabbed the plates, gesturing her to grabs the drinks & bottle as he walked towards a table, with her obliging. Just as she was about to sit, he helps her by pulling out her seat, gently pushing her in before sitting across from her.

“Anything on your plate you wanna try first?” he asked her, watching her scan the plate.

“….what’s your recommendation?”

He smiled, picking up a piece of bread and putting prosciutto and smearing some brie on it. He adds a bit of cranberry on it before handing it to her.

“Tastes pretty good together.” he replied, watching her retrieve it.

She examines the bread before taking a bite, chewing for a few seconds. She takes a few more bites before eating the whole thing, earning a chuckle from Macrinus.

“Was I lying?” he asked playfully.

“No, sir.” she shakes her head. “The sweetness from the cranberry, the flakiness of the bread, and the creamy, nutty flavor of the Brie combines very well together. How does one acquire that taste?” she asks, beginning to eat a little more of the bread.

“That’s my side job when I’m not pushing these men to be the best version of themselves. You give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want, but better.” he replied, sipping some of his wine.

“Were you selected to take the job? Or did you have to fight like one of them to get that and freedom?”

“The first one. I worked very hard to get where I am at today than where I was in my slave days. And it’s not an easy journey.”

“You were a slave?”

“Yeah. When Aurelius was ruling, but this was way before Lucilla, Maximus, and Commodus were born. I can remember the harsh treatments…..the way him and guards demean us…..his greed before his change of heart shit took over him. Almost like he was repenting.” he said harshly, growing angry thinking of it.

“And that’s why you wanna kill Greta and Caracalla.” she said quietly, taking a sip of her wine.

He leans forward, looking at her for a few more moments before pulling him robe back, revealing a branded scar that represents the symbol Aurelius has on his statute.

“Those two are just in the way. And the senate knows it. Hell, so did the general and Lucilla. But my vision of Rome is not similar to theirs. Mines is vengeance for what they did to me and my people.” he replied through gritted teeth.

Cassia traces the scar, softening Macrinus’ demeanor a bit. She looks at him, getting closer to place a kiss on his cheek, making him smile a bit.

“Do what you have to do. They’re making us suffer anyway if they continue to rule.” she said before resuming eating her plate.

He looks at her, scanning all over her body while she eats. The way her mouth moves, her looking around the area they’re in, taking a few sips of wine, and moving onto the next thing.

His eyes fixates on two long-straight scars that starts from the top of her shoulder and ends before it gets to her hands.

“What happened to your arms?” he asks, gently tracing over them.

Her smile drops slightly as she moves them around, the painful memories swirling in her head.

“This is from when I was fighting off a client the first night I was sold to Dominus.” she replied in a hesitant tone.

“Tried to force himself on you?”

“Yeah. Got mad that I wouldn’t give it up easily, so he took a small knife and tried to cut my dress off. Fought back hard and got sliced in the process.”

“And what did he do?”

“Gave him a warning.” she said, shrugging. “The client never came back.”

“So…he got away with harming you….” he said in an irritated tone.

She nodded, looking down. Macrinus’ jaw twitches, hiding his growing flame that is begging to come out and tell him to hunt Dominus down for letting that slide. He relaxes, not wanting to waste their time together.

“Are you pure?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Oh, no sir.” she looked, laughing a bit. “My husband was my first. And only.”

“…….where’s he’s at?”

“Probably rotting on the battlefield. He died while fighting in it.”

“And they just took you?” he asked with a puzzled look.

“Well. Greta and Caracalla ordered our family to be killed. Accusing them of attempted a coup against them when that wasn’t even true. We didn’t even know he died a few months back until that day…”

“Oh wow.” Macrinus replied, surprised about that information.

“They sent standby to kill everyone, including me. Our parents, his siblings, and his nephew. I managed to escape and hid for a few days until I was caught trying to sneak into a ship to Numidia.” she said as she sipped more of her wine.

“I was chained to a pole with other women in some town and sold to Dominus the next day. Been here ever since and….I guess this is how I’m gonna spend the rest of my life.” she said in a somber tone.

“….how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked.

“28. I may be the recent one he acquired, but I’m also the oldest of the girls he has.”

Macrinus nodded, rubbing his hands against hers. He pulls them to his lips, placing kisses all over them while keeping eye contact with her.

“Cassia….it would be a pleasure to heal your pain with taking both of them out and Dominus. And then, I want you as my wife.”

“Damn, I got you whipped already?” she asked, chuckling a bit.

“A woman like you should be living established and relaxed. Especially a woman who can provide me something I want.” he said, kissing over her scar, making her wince a little.

“And what is that?” she asked, her breathing growing a bit loud as he goes a bit higher.

“A heir. A boy or a girl that can continue my beliefs when my time comes to an end.” he whispered, tugging her to come in his lap.

She obliged, carefully sitting where she is across him, wrapping her arm around him neck, gently pushing her breasts into his face. He grins, gently kissing them.

“I can see it.” Peck. “You sitting on the throne.” Peck. “Ass getting thicker.” Peck. “Glowing and our baby growing.” Peck.

He smells her chest, letting out a moan before gently taking one out and massaging it, making her whimper and grip his chest a bit. The coolness of his rings rubbing against her skin arouses her even more.

“These here? Growing bigger, spilling out your top, perfect pillows to lay on? Oh, you’re perfect for me.” he whispered, tracing her nipple with his tongue before sucking on the breast, making her moan.

Cassia begins grinding in his lap, feeling his length growing a bit as he kept sucking, looking at her with hunger in his eyes. He pulls her closer, burying the rest of his in her chest as she throws her head back, mumbling Fuck at the sensation.

A loud thud is heard, making the both of them snap to where it was making the noise. Behind the gates, a group of rioters and guards are clashing, with the guards getting the upper hand.

“Goddamn those rioters!” he mumbled before resuming making out with Cassia’s beats.

Two black men, a young adult and middle aged, walk into the room, heading towards them. Macrinus gently pulls her top up and ushers her off his lap as he gets up, fixing himself.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t it my two favorite boys?” he said enthusiastically, opening his arms up.

The men each hug him, with the young one giving him a passionate kiss. Cassia quietly sits in her seat, continuing to eat and not engage with what she witnessed.

“Alright, alright. Not in front of my future spouse now.” Macrinus said, gently grabbing his ass before pushing him back.

“Oh, we didn’t know we were interrupting something.” the middle aged one said, looking at Cassia.

“She is a beauty, not going to lie.” said the young one, walking over to look at her a little close.

“Don’t scare her, Felix.” said Macrinus, sitting back down in his seat.

“I’m not! I’m just…..taken aback that you pulled her in comparison to you.” he said, with Cassia looking at him.

Macrinus slaps his ass, making him yelp and the middle age one laugh as he sat next to him and Cassia smile a bit.

“Oh, where are my manners? Cassia, this is Felix. And Zeno.” he said, pointing at each one.

“Your boytoys?” she asked, eyeing the both of them.

“On some occasions. Zeno helps me with moving the gladiators from arena to arena as Felix….well, relieves my tension if need to.” he replied, rubbing Zeno’s chest.

“He’s a little stiff.” said Felix, sitting next to her.

“And you making stiffer with your arches.” said Zeno, earning a scoff from him.

“It helps me build myself up. A lot of us have an itch that needs some more attention. You would know, right, Cassia?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“What I’m getting is you get tossed between them a lot.” she replied, earning a smile from all three of them.

“I wanted that arrangement. Thought it would work best to feed both of their needs instead of me and Zeno trading.”

“Would that mess it up with me in the equation now?” she asked slyly.

“Depends on how long you make him last.” said Zeno.

“That won’t be hard. I last a good time!” said Macrinus.

“I don’t know…” said Felix, getting up to walk behind her. “She might be tough to last against.”

He traces her arms before wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, pushing her forward, making her lay across the table. She tries to get up, but he keeps his hold on her.

“Watch it, Felix.” Macrinus said with a stone face glare.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m just looking.” he replied, rubbing his hands over her curves.

He pulls her back up, examining her features before sitting back down in his seat. He picks up a grape from her plate and brings it to her mouth, waiting for her to eat it. She looks at Macrinus, who’s watching with a vex in his eyes as Zeno’s hand is moving perpendicularly in his lap.

Is he getting hard from watching this?, she said in her mind as she goes back to Felix, who is still waiting for her.

She engulfs the grape into her mouth, slightly sucking his fingers while keeping her eyes on him, making him grunt a bit. She makes a Pop! sound before locking eyes with Macrinus again, who gently removes Zeno’s hand.

“What do you two want? You’re taking up too much of my time with her.” he said, adjusting himself in his seat.

“Lucilla wants to speak to you before her execution goes forward.” said Zeno.

“And the senate wants to know how are the traitors being sentenced as soon as possible.” said Felix.

“They’ll have their answer, and my presence, by nighttime tomorrow. I’ll figure out what I’m gonna do with Lucius later on. Might keep him alive until my heir arrives.” said Macrinus, eying Cassia.

“And Rome will prevail from there.” said Felix, kissing her hand before getting up to leave.

Zeno nods at both before getting and leaving, with Felix following behind. Macrinus gets up, exposing his twitching semi-hard length at her, which makes her gasp.

“What’s wrong….” he asked before looking down and seeing it. “Oh. We’re not there yet.” he chuckled before tucking it away.

“There’s more?” she asked, sending him a smirk.

“Yeah. I tend to work with it a lot.” he replied.

“We’ll see about that.”

“….don’t tempt me.”

A group of moans are heard, making the both of them look around to see where it’s coming from. In the corner of the area, two citizens, a man and a woman, are having sex.

The woman, with her breast exposed and skirt pushed up, is pressed against the gate as the man plunges behind her, constantly slamming into her as their moans and body smacking fills the room in mixture of the chaos outside the gates.

“Guess they wanted an audience in midst of the fighting.” she said, watching the pleasure grow between them.

Macrinus replied with ‘mhm’ before moving closer, kissing her neck before kissing her, rubbing her sides. She kisses back, fighting for more while gently stroking him through his dress, hearing his breathing become erratic.

He breaks the kiss, catching his breath as he rubbed his head against her, who is patiently waiting for his next order.

“Let’s go somewhere private, shall we?” he said, standing back and holding his hand out.

She nods as she takes his hand and getting up. Grabbing the wine bottle as well, he pulls her into a secret hallway and up the stairs.

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He opens the door, letting her walk in. He orders the guards to stand in front of the door, telling them to knock if Dominus or someone else comes looking for him before walking in, closing the door.

Cassia looks around the room, taking in the gorgeous marble floor, black pillars, chairs, and windows with gold accent accessories accompany it.

Walking towards the center, where the pit of fire stands, she looks at the two throne of chairs front and center, admiring its details.

“Wanna sit up there?” he asked, pouring wine into their glasses.

“How often you ask that?” she replied, looking at him.

He chuckles, walking towards her and handing her the glass, in which she takes.

“You’re a very funny woman, you know. But you are the first one to be in here after hours.” he said, wrapping his hand around hers and pulling her towards the chairs.

“Felix and Zeno won’t be jealous?”

“They’ll be fine.”

Cassia and Macrinus get to the ledge before he places her in the center. He backs up, taking in her beauty as she poses, making him smile before taking a sip of his wine.

“You fit perfectly on the throne, my love. The moonlight enhances your diamond essence into this city. Which is why I chose you to be mine.” he said, placing the wine bottle near the chair.

“And do I get anything in return? Besides bringing in a future and marriage?” she asked, drinking some of her wine.

“Your girls can come live here instead of suffering in the streets when I take my position as emperor. Finest access to jewelry they wouldn’t let you touch, fresh food, water, new items, your own housekeepers, and of course….”

He walks up, with her eyes following him, standing in front as he traces her chin, licking his lips.

“Me. Only me.” he added, tracing over her neck.

He feels her breathing stagger a bit as he goes down further and further until he feels a necklace, pulling it up to examine.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the garnet pendant.

“It’s a way for him to spot which girls belong to him whenever we go out in public. We each have different stones that represents us.” she replied.

He nodded, tracing his thumb over the pendant. Suddenly, he rips the necklace off, making her gasp. He throws it in the pit, watching it burn quickly.

“Cheap metal and a fake stone. Guess that’s how he sees you girls.” he said, sitting in one of the chairs.

“He’s not gonna like that.” she mumbled.

“I don’t give a fuck what he likes or doesn’t like. You’re not his property anymore. You belong here now. To me.” he said authoritatively.

“What if he refuses to allow that?”

“He’ll back off. Or else, I’ll make him. Permanently.”

“…..you swear?” she asks, looking at him.

“…..on my soul. I’ll take care of him. But right now.” he said, leaning forward.

He grabs her top and pulls it down, exposing her breasts before pulling her into his lap to straddle him, both locking eyes with each other.

“We were in the middle of something.” he mumbled before kissing her passionately, caressing her back.

Cassia moaned at the coldness and scratchiness of his beard rubbing against her face and chest while kissing as her mound gently rubs against his clothed length, feeling him move her hips to apply more friction.

Macrinus breaks the kiss, tracing his tongue over each breast before engulfing one into his mouth like earlier and sucking whine squeezing the other one and rubbing the nipple between his ring wearing fingers, making her wince loudly.

“Fuck, that feels good.” she whispers in an intoxicated tone, earning a grunt from him.

He released her breast from his mouth, rubbing his face against it before trading places: other one is now being sucked on as he rubs the previous one.

“You’re so good at that, you know?” she whispered, feeling him grab her ass before letting go.

He lets out a Pop! sound as he lets go, rubbing his face between both saliva coated jugglers as he looks up in awe, in a daze with her face..

“I can feel you getting wet and I’m only just making out with these beautiful jewels. They never made this far, huh?” he asked, gently rubbing her hips.

“Never. They don’t like building it up, just immediately going after the gold.” she replied, which he nods.

“You have a lot to experience then. Go sit in that chair and remove the rest of your dress for me.” he said, removing her from his lap.

Cassia pulls the rest of her dress down, leaving her in a gold waist chain that is connected to her underwear. She sits in the chair, waiting for his next move as he watches, taking in her curves and plumpness from her thighs, hips, and shoulders.

He gets up, removing his dress and tunic, leaving him with nothing but his jewelry gleaming against his skin as his now full grown and girthy length moves up and down.

He was lying about his size at all, she said in her mind as he got closer and kneeled down, rubbing her face before kissing her, tracing her thighs in process.

She smiled before kissing him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and tracing over his back. She breaks it, catching her breath as he watches her, lust fully consuming him.

“What do you want to do first?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you be calling the shots?” she replied, tracing over his chin.

“Usually I do. Since I’m the second man crossing over this beauty of land….” as he traces his fingers over her waist chain.

“I think I want to make you comfortable on our first night. What do you say?” he replied.

She nods, earning a peck on her nose as she leans back and opens her legs. He smirked, beginning to place a trail of kisses on her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to her heat before pausing.

“You might have to help me remove these cause I don’t know how, what the hell…” he mumbled, tugging at the underwear, which makes her giggle.

“Here.” she said, bring his hand to one of the clasps and pressing it together, unclamping the underwear.

He nodded, continuing to remove the rest before pulling her underwear off, revealing her glistening essence to him. He stares with hunger, gently placing one leg on his shoulder as he quickly removes his rings.

“Wait.” she said, making him stop in process.

“Something wrong, Cassia?” he asked, a worrying expression on his face.

“No, no, everything is fine. Can you just….leave your pointer & thumb rings on? I like the coolness they give when you touching all over me.” she said, licking her lips at him.

He smirks, removing everything but those four. He leans forward, taking in her luscious core before tracing her slit with his pointer, making her moan a bit.

“All this for me? Oh, you were dying for me to touch you.” he whispers, placing a few kisses around it.

Pulling her a little more to the edge, he pushes her other leg towards her as he licks her slit, making her flinch. He smirks before repeating the motion in a form of making out, making her whimper.

“God, you got a perfect sets of lips.” he mumbled, circling her lips as the mixture of her wetness and his salvia coat his finger.

“Haven’t tasted you for a few moments and you’re getting wetter. You want me to continue, huh?” he asks, looking up at her, who eyes are closed and head is thrown back.

“Please….I miss the feeling of someone making me feel good.” she replied, rubbing her lips on his finger gently.

He didn’t reply, just went back to eating her out, but this time, slurping on her opening as his thumb rubs her clit, making her moan loud. She places her hands on his head, pushing his face further in, feeling his grip on her other leg tightening.

“Sorry. I tend to get a little carried away.” she said, feeling him laugh before a gasp from her comes out.

Macrinus, feeling even more driven, inserts a finger inside, feeling her tightness engulfing him. He curves it, watching her move erratically and whimper loudly.

“Oh, you’re just collapsing under my control.” he said, licking her clit.

“Yes…yes.” is all she could get out as he enters a second finger and begins to plunge them in and out, making her moan even louder.

“That’s right….open a little more for me so he can fit…” he whispers, watching his fingers go in and out as her essence spills down his arm and the chair.

“Fuck….please put your mouth back on her. I feel myself getting close!” she exclaims, tightening around his fingers.

“Whatever you want, baby.” he replied before placing his mouth on her clit, flicking it back and forth as he sped up the pace.

Sounds of her pussy being slapped, her grunts, and his flicking fills the room as the riots continue down below them.

He removes his mouth, looking at her opening as he finger fucks very harshly until her release washes over her. Her moans turning into screams, her body twitching all over, and her essence making a huge mess by squirting all over, making him stare in amazement at his work.

“Fuck, you look good like this.” he mumbled, kissing all over her stomach to her chest to her lips, as she laughs weakly.

“My turn now.” she replied, sitting up straight as Macrinus stands up, stroking himself.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know?” he said, looking at her.

“You think I wanna jump into our session without tasting this first?” she said, wrapping her hand around his length and stroking it.

He holds his hands up in defeat, giving her a wink as she looks at it, mesmerized by its size and girth. All that shit commanding shit he does matches him well.

She traces the tip with her tongue before engulfing all of it into her mouth, hearing him let out an exhale as his fingers run through her hair. She removes herself, catching her breath while stroking the length, giggling to herself.

“You were not lying about you being a lot.” she said, locking eyes with him.

“You handling it like a god..” he replied before reinserting it back into her mouth.

She continues sucking, gently massaging his balls, hearing him wince. He starts picking up his pace, gently hitting the back of her throat. Looking up at him, she bops her head faster, feeling his tip hitting it much rougher.

“Them assholes missed out on this skillful work of yours.” he says, letting out moans.

Then, he grabs her head and begins going at a brisk place, constantly burying her face into his groin as he lets out a few expletives that she couldn’t make out with the fuzzy noise in her ears.

“You like that shit? Old man like me using your throat like you owe me something?!” he asks in a gritty tone, not letting up.

She moans around his length, feeling her chin and chest being coated in the excessive salvia that’s spilling out from his movement, her eyes stinging a bit.

Suddenly, he pulls out of her mouth, making her lean back against the chair. She breathes harshly, recovering from that euphoric moment that happened. He smiles at her dazed posture, looking from her face to her pussy, which is now even more wet.

“Come here..” he whispers, helping her up before sitting in his chair, pulling her along.

He taps her to get on top, in which she obliges. She rub her opening on his tip before lowering herself carefully, wincing as she feels herself being stretched more and more with each inch.

“Macrinus, I don’t think I can take more of you….” she whines.

“Relax. You just have to let the pain pass before I start moving. You’ll feel good real soon.” he replied, moving her hips with his hands.

She moans quietly, wrapping her arms around him tightly as the sensation passes through. He kisses her breasts, sucking on one as he begins bouncing her up and down, plunging into her with each stroke.

“Oh my god….” she whispers in a pathetic tone, feeling his tip poke at a sweet spot.

He smiles, releasing himself from her breast as he speeds up his pace, making her moans come out very pitchy.

“That’s it…..take all of me like that.” he mumbled, slapping her ass few times as she begins riding him, removing his hands and letting her do the rest of the work.

Cassia lets out a few sexual sounds, feeling herself becoming attached to him every time she grinds against the friction and poking he’s giving her. He picks up the bottle of white wine and pours all over her breasts, licking and sucking up the liquid as she moves harder and faster, making him let out a few grunts.

“You’re gonna make me cum again!” she yelps, tightening around him.

Just as she was close to release, he lifts her up, feeling his length thumping very hard as she catches her breath, looking down at her walls clenching. He laughs hoarsely before giving her some sloppy kisses over all, sitting her back in his lap.

“You almost brought me with you and I don’t want that to happen because our night will end super fast.” he mumbled, wiping her sweaty face.

She smiles weakly, nodding her head as she grinds his aching length, earning a few more slaps on her ass.

“I’m not playing, girl.” he said in a dark tone, wrapping his hand around her neck and squeezing it, making her slightly gasp.

“Sorry, sir.” she replied in a pitchy tone, seeing him smile in an evil way.

“It’s okay. Just don’t do that again.” as he pecks on her nose.

“Now go bend that ass over in that chair.” he said, letting her go.

Cassia hurriedly crawls over to the chair, putting her chest on the seat and arching her back so her ass in air, patiently waiting for him to re-enter.

Macrinus examines her body, all sweaty from her movement

“When Rome falls and rises, you’ll be the one standing while everyone is kneeling….” he mumbled, tracing over her cheeks.

“That would be nice, huh? You, me, and our heir being worshipped by these people? Hm?“ he asked, slapping her ass, hearing her whine desperately.

“Yes.” she mumbled, but that earns her another slap.

“I can’t hear you!” he said, smoothing out the stinging.

“Yes, Macrinus!” she yells, slightly moving her hips around.

He gives her a few more slaps, hearing her let out a few cries. He leans forward, pushing her hair out of her face as he gets closer to her ear.

“Please…..” she begged, about to touch herself before he stopped her, locking her arms behind her back.

“Call me by the correct title and I’ll give you what you want.” he whispers into her ear before backing away.

“….yes, Emperor. Please pleasure me again…” she said, breathing harshly.

She waits for his next move, anticipating another slap. Then, he re-inserts himself from behind and begins pounding her, making her moan loudly. His low grunts as he slams aggressively into her fills the room, with him pulling her hair while holding her arms.

“Look at you….” he chuckles seductively. “Taking old man dick from me and enjoying it. That dead husband of yours wasn’t doing you like this, was he?”

“No….no, he wasn’t.” she confessed, feeling him let go of her hair and pull out, just to slam back in her.

Macrinus watches her twitch and make sounds that are so incoherent, it made him pushed deeper into her. He lays on her back, adding his weight on top as he wraps his hand around the front of her neck and pulls her up to his chest a bit, kissing her ear.

“Alright. That’s what I wanted to hear. But now? I want you to cum. Releasing everything all over me and don’t hold back. Got it?” he mumbled, rolling his hips.

“Yes…..yes….yes!” she responded as her release washes over, making her yell and squirt all over him as he continued to fuck her through it, pulling out and watching her collapse to the side, convulsing.

He sits nearby, gently turning her onto her back. He leans over, kissing her chest as she moans quietly, rubbing his face. He gets between her legs and rubs his length between her folds, watching her grab her legs and hold them back, making him chuckle.

“Already know what to do without me telling you. I like that.” he said before inserting inside, hearing her curse.

He wraps his hands around her neck and begins fucking her, going a pace where he is continuously hitting that sweet spot inside her. It doesn’t help that his pressure from squeezing adds onto the copulating tension in the air.

“You ready to be my bride and raise my heir?” he asked, speeding up a bit.

“Me breeding you like this and pushing my babies out? Having them running around Rome and shit?” he continued, not letting up.

“Yes, Emperor…..I’m yours and this body is yours.” she replied, feeling another release building up.

He kisses her sloppily, locking his arms around her as he continue his brutal pace, making her whine and scream as her essence splashes all around. He looks down, watching her grip around him.

“I’m cumming…ugh….fuck!” he yells as he finally releases inside, his load pumping out hasty.

Cassia’s release follows behind, wrapping her legs around him as she twitches underneath, feeling her body release every tense motion in this position.

After a few minutes of recovering, Macrinus gently pulls out, watching her suck the remaining seed in before he got and knocked on the door, asking one of the guard to bring him a bowl of water and some towels.

A quick opening and closing of the door and he’s next to her, squeezing the excessive water out before he rubbing the cooling towel all over her body, cleaning up anything fluids that were there.

“…..do I have to go back?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“When I said I’m silencing him permanently, I meant that.” he replied, helping her sit up.

“Well…..he should be here to pick me up soon.” she said, getting up to put on her dress.

Macrinus nodded, not replying as he put his dress and tunic back on, waiting for a knock from the guards. A few minutes later, loud knocking comes, signaling Dominus has arrived.

“Dominus! Nice to see you again.” said Macrinus as he opens the door and sees the stoneface figure standing.

“Did she comply?” asked Dominus, looking over at Cassia, who’s fixing her hair.

“Yeah. Worn my old ass out if anything!” he chuckles. “But I wanted to renegotiate our deal.”

“Renegotiate?”

“Yes! You see, I asked for her hand in marriage and she is possibly carrying my child, so I don’t think it’s necessary for her to return to you. So, she’s staying with me now and you can go on home..” said Macrinus as he gently pushes Dominus back, but the latter shoves him.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. We agreed that she was your reward and you was going to break into her. She’s my property and I’m here to take her home so the next clients can get a turn.” he replied coldly, making Cassia stand up.

Macrinus looks at him with an ominous glare, stepping back into his spot while keeping eye contact. Then, he takes out his knife and stabs him quickly, making Dominus gasp and look down.

“And that’s the problem. You sees them as property, not women you should be taking care of if you want business to continue.” he said, pushing the blade deeper which makes Dominus wince.

“She told me how she got those scars on her arm and how your lack of discipline towards the client is why she wasn’t giving in. And giving them cheap necklaces with fake pendants to easily find them? Oh, your niggard ass won’t be missed.” he replied, pulling it out and watching him topple over.

Blood spilling out of Dominus’ mouth as he gasps for air, making Cassia turn away, not wanting to see the rest. Macrinus kneels down and slices his neck open, killing him. He tosses the knife next to him and back ups, turning to the doors.

“Chop him up and send it back to his neighborhood. That’ll send a message that she’s not going back, the women are free, and Rome is going to fall.” he told the guards, walking over to Cassia.

The guards rush in and take Dominus’ body as Macrinus wraps his arms around her and they begin walking, leaving the room.

“You okay?” he asks, making sure she is perfectly fine.

Cassia nods, smiling tiredly as she lays her head on his shoulder.

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Its been three months since Cassia slept with Macrinus, but the promised life of being a wife to the Emperor and raising his children never succeeded.

Following the Senate & Caracalla swearing him in and ordering the execution of Lucilla and some senators to be done by Lucius and the gladiators, which turn into chaos that ended with the citizens, Lucius, and the gladiators turning against them, he successfully executed Caracalla and Lucilla before escaping to stop the army Lucius order to invade and wipe out his own.

She doesn’t know the remaining details of what happened, but all she knows is after Lucius sliced Macrinus’ hand off, he killed him and reunited everyone, swearing on his grandfather’s dream of making Rome united and peaceful to other countries they captured.

The news of his death spread fast and she fell out, crying in the streets, with her sisters consoling her. She stayed in the house, missing meals, and not waiting to talk until she began feeling nauseous, crying a little more, and eating more than usual.

That’s when she knew that she was pregnant with their child. She tried to hide it, but gave up around 8 weeks when her belly started to show and it didn’t help that she was already a plus size girl.

Cassia was sitting in a chair inside her room, planning the nursery when she hears a knock on the door.

“Come in.” she said, looking up.

The door opens and Aelia pops her head in, sending her a smile.

“Hey. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” she said, creeping in.

“No, just figuring out things for my child. What’s going on?” Cassia asks.

“I know this is sudden….but the emperor is here. And he wants to speak with you.” she said quickly.

Rage instantly lights up inside Cassia, who tries to get up but Aelia stops her, trying to calm her down.

“I know this is not what you want to hear..”

“You let my husband’s murderer into this house without asking me?!” yelled Cassia as she pushed Aelia, who is not giving up.

“It was unexpected! He just…showed up and walked in, asking for you!”

“Well you tell him to get the hell out and never return or else!” Cassia said, shoving Aelia back hard that she bumps into the cabinet.

“Or else what?” a familiar male voice said.

Turning to the voice, Lucius stands in the doorway, watching everything she did. Cassia stares back at him with a glare, wanting to harm him but knows she can’t do much since anything that can be used as a weapon is far from her.

“Aelia, you can leave us.” he said, walking closer.

“She’s not going anywhere and you don’t bark orders around here.” said Cassia.

“Cassia��.just talk to him.” said Aelia.

Aelia bows in front of him before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Tension fills the silence as Lucius walks around, taking in her room before looking towards the curtained window, which has sunlight peeping through.

“….What do you want?” asked Cassia.

“I remember you, you know.” he replied, looking at her.

“So? I have a familiar face around here.”

He laughed quietly, walking towards her.

“I meant I remember you from the day General Acacius was executed. After that. You were accompanying Macrinus and sat outside the cell when we were talking.”

“Oh right. The day you couldn’t bring yourself to killing your stepfather who got your wife killed during the capturing of your land.” she said coldly.

“He apologized.” as he sits in front of her, with her covering her baby bump.

“He didn’t know I was my mother’s missing son. I spared his life for her.”

“And look what it got you? A dead mother.” she scoffed.

“Nothing you say hurts me, Cassia.”

“Who said it’s about hurting you?”

“Well, I know you’re only reacting like this is because of Macrinus.” he said, staring at her.

She laughed evilly, moving a bit in her seat as she leans forward.

“You clearly know nothing about me. You lost your mother and wife? I lost everything because of you and your dynasty. So whatever you’re here looking for, you’re not gonna find it. So, emperor, please leave.” she said, leaning back into her seat.

“I know. Kidnapped after your husband died fighting for Rome, your family accused of trying to steal the throne and being executed, being forced in selling your body so the man who bought can eat, and losing a man who promises a new Rome after you two made a baby out of love…” he said, trying to touch her stomach.

Cassia slaps him very hard, anger inflicted all over her face. Lucius smiles, feeling the stinging grow as he looks at her, slightly turned on by her deviance.

“I can never get my wife back. Nor my parents. But what I can do is help someone out. And someone who is perfect to sit next to me as I lead Rome into a new era. That someone is you, Cassia.”

“Oh, go to hell, Lucius. This city is not gonna take kind to you not only having a big black curvy woman for a wife, but the widow of the man you killed and their son? Not gonna happen.” she replied.

“You think I care? This city made up lies that I was a product of incest between my mother and her brother. You weren’t his wife yet and this is a child out of wedlock. Which is a very common thing around here.”

“I’m not taking your offer. So please go.”

Lucius nods, getting up to walk out. However, he picks her up to her feet, making her step back in fear of what he’ll do. Instead, he drops to his knees and rubs her belly before placing his ear to it.

“If you’re expecting some motion, I’m not that far along.” she said.

“They’re planning to charge you.” he confessed.

“……what?” she said, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I’m aware that Dominus wasn’t very kind to you because most clients couldn’t make it past kissing. But I don’t know what happened to him the night he gave you to Macrinus as his body was….in pieces when they found him.” he replied before getting back up.

“I didn’t kill him! He did. And he told the guards to chop him up! I swear I didn’t touch him.”

“Do you have proof?”

Cassia stares at him, wanting to say no but she knows she didn’t do it. She begins hyperventilating, making Lucius help her sit down and coach her through breathing exercises until she was back to normal.

“…..I didn’t do it!” she exclaims, busting out in tears.

Lucius confronts her, letting her cry it out against his chest. She sniffles, feeling her become numb from her constant crying.

“They can’t take my baby away from me for something I didn’t even do!” she said, looking at him.

“That’s why I’m asking you to join me. I can protect you from execution and being charged, you just have to go along with it. Your girls can come and this will all be forgotten.” he said, leaning forward.

“At least do something that he promised he would give you.” he whispers, rubbing her face.

Lucius kisses her face before walking out, closing the door behind him. She looks around the room as the option lingers in her mind.

Stay here and go to prison with possible execution or go live in the house with your love’s killer and raise your child keep playing as she rubbed her belly. Every fear, tear, anger, and thought riled inside her up until the last moment of her final decision.

Cassia opens the door and walks to the living room where Lucius and her sisters were chattering and eating. She stands in the doorway as his eyes looked at her, silencing the room.

“Everything okay?” asked Diana.

Cassia walks to Lucius, who turns to her in his seat. She stands in front of him and kneels, hearing everyone gasp around the table.

“Emperor Lucius……I take your offering to be your wife and build Rome back up. Like your grandfather wanted.” she said, tears streaming down her face.

Her sisters cheered as Lucius watched, a smile creeping along his face.

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A/N II: I am unfortunately no longer doing the Exotic Travelers series as I’m going into smut retirement again. But I had fun coming back for a bit.

Taglist: @delusioniste @onehalfshrimp

117 notes · View notes

belovedmusings · 1 year ago

Text

“I’m not going anywhere.”

+ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS +

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Satoru survived being severed in half thanks to Yuuta’s Reversed Curse Technique and subsequently claimed victory, but you keep reliving the moment you saw him die before your eyes. You wake up beside him one night crying from a nightmare of it, and wanting to make you feel better and remind you that he’s okay and he’s not going anywhere, he lets you take him any way you need him.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader with minimal gendered language, reader insert without using “y/n”, graphic nightmare at the beginning but it’s quick, fix-it, hurt/comfort, soft and emotional sex, handjob, fingering, Satoru’s 6-inch fingers, slow sex, praises and declarations of love, lots of kissing, love bites, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, Satoru’s big cock :’) <3

Music recommended while reading: My Love (Sia), positions (Ariana Grande), Souvenir (Selena Gomez), Religion (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: no I’m absolutely not over wtf happened in ch 236 and yes I’m 100% crazy enough to still believe him when he said he’d win. He’ll win and I trust him. I have to or I’ll go crazy. Here’s this emotional smut to cope.

Read below cut:

He was winning. He was fine, he was smiling and now—

He’s not. He’s not moving, he’s not doing anything but he’s in half he’s in fucking half and there’s so much blood—

You scream. You scream but it sounds like it’s underwater and you can’t breathe, you can’t feel anything but despair and pain and dread and anger and disbelief and fucking devastation. Satoru is— he’s— oh god, he’s—

“Hey.”

You’re sobbing. Tears stream from your eyes but you can’t feel, you can’t see anything, you can’t hear, you can’t exist without him—

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”

That voice snaps you back to consciousness, a deep gasp from you following. Warm hands are on your shoulders, and you look up at the source, eyes landing upon Satoru’s concerned face. His beautiful, alive face. What? How?

“Hey,” he murmurs again softly, brows furrowed in worry as he rubs up and down your arm soothingly. “Shh, shh, shh…you’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”

A dream?

“No it wasn’t,” you shake your head, voice broken. The lump in your throat won’t go away as you continue to cry. “You were…you were gone and I—”

“I’m right here,” he cuts him firmly, squeezing your arm. “Look at me. I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I’m fine. Promise.”

Your eyes search his face, his body, and blindly you reach out, touching his clothed abdomen, feeling over it to make absolutely sure he’s not lying. When you feel nothing but solid, warm flesh underneath, even when you touch down to his thigh, you relax, sniffling. He’s completely intact. He’s okay.

You remember then what had happened after he had fallen. You’d gone into a panic, threw up, and blacked out after sobbing uncontrollably after tearing your eyes from the screen that displayed his lifeless body.

When you woke up, you were lying against a wall, Shoko watching over you, telling you that Yuuta managed to get ahold of him while Yuuji and Higuruma were fighting Sukuna. He’d used his Reversed Curse Technique to heal him, and he was up and fighting again, this time facing off with Kenjaku.

It was jarring to see him back alive, like you were seeing the resurrection of a god. But it was okay. He was even stronger than before, and along with the others, he was capable of defeating both of the threats.

His victory had restored balance once more.

He’d come off of that battlefield on his own two feet, sweaty, heavily banged up and exhausted, but he had a brilliant smile on his face that said everything is fine now, and he’d welcomed you into his arms without hesitation.

“Oh god,” you breathe out, “It was a dream. Thank god.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in, planting a kiss on your temple.

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He asks, “You gotta trust me, silly. M’ not going anywhere.”

You huff, nuzzling into his chest. “Don’t call me silly because I’m worried about you.”

He sighs softly, rubbing your back. “Fine, fine. But seriously, I’m fine. So no need to worry, okay? I’m right here, however you need me.”

He is. You can feel him in your arms, you can feel him holding you, and yet in your sleep-fogged mind, you can’t help but still retain some anxiety that you’ll wake up again and he’ll be gone for good. That you imagined all of those victories in order to cope. You need to feel more of him to confirm he’s real.

“However I need you?” You ask, drawing back to meet his eyes, gleaming in the dim lighting of the moon. He nods.

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be otherwise? I’m yours to do with as you please.”

You can’t help it; his tone always brings out a special playfulness in you. “As I please? You sound so easy.”

“Easy for you,” he grins wolfishly, and you roll your eyes fondly before sobering up.

“I need more reassurance,” you tell him. “I want to feel you.”

He eyes you curiously, nodding. “Sure thing. What do you have in mind?”

You reach up to touch his face, brushing your thumb between his eyebrows to work out the furrow, then dancing it over his brow bone, then his cheekbone, and finally his lips. You pad it over the soft skin there before leaning up and kissing him, relaxing at the familiar taste of his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, lips moving with yours in a combination of slow and sensual.

The hand that was resting on his jaw slowly travels down over his neck, where your thumb runs over the column gently, grazing his Adam’s apple a few times before moving on to his collarbone. You explore that spot for a few moments and then massage down his shoulder, over his pec, flattening your palm to feel the beat of his heart.

It calms you to feel that strong thump thump thump against your touch, impassioning you enough to make you deepen the kiss and slip your tongue into his protestless mouth. A soft groan sounds at the back of his throat, and that spurs you on to continue touching him, running your palm over his muscles that were once lithe, but after time spent preparing for battle while he was sealed away to occupy himself, have turned thick and solid. You ghost over the ridges of his abdomen and shiver, feeling each contour through his shirt.

It sends a wave of heat through you and your ministrations turn heavy with desire, finding the hem of his shirt, sliding your hand underneath it and massaging over the hot skin of his naked chest. He groans and guides his own hand from your waist to your ass, clad only in underwear for comfort to sleep, giving it a generous knead.

“Mmh,” you breathe into his mouth, letting him go further to grab your thigh, hooking his hand under your knee and hiking your leg up around his hip.

His tongue runs over yours dirtily as his hand slides back up to the apex of your legs, reaching around to cup your mound through the thin garment over it. His middle and ring fingers massage over that little sensitive pearl just begging to be touched, making you moan softly.

Your lust is deepening by the second and it makes you grow bolder, palm on his abdomen lowering to the front of his boxers and caressing the sizable hardness it finds there. Subconsciously you start to move your hips with his touches, kiss turning sloppy the more you pleasure each other.

The drags of his fingertips get a little too difficult when the fabric over your core gets soaked through, so he easily amends it by slipping his fingers beneath the edge of the article, touching you without any barriers.

“Satoru,” you moan louder as he teases the swollen pearl beneath his digits. He hums in his throat, and wanting to even things out, your hand dips below his boxers, wrapping around the hard and hot erection he’s been sporting since you started kissing him.

A bead of precum at his tip makes the slide a little easier and you feel him start rocking into your hand, meeting your strokes, a breathy groan sounding from him.

He wants the upperhand, of course, so he elects to push two of his lengthy fingers into your entrance, causing you to gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate. The man’s digits are long enough to reach your cervix without even trying and he presses pointedly against it, wriggling the tips of his fingers against that sensitive spot teasingly.

“God, Satoru,” you mewl, touching him with more purpose, circling your thumb over his tip.

“Ngh,” he groans in response, moving his hand so that he starts finger-fucking you at a pace, the wet sounds reaching your ears along with the heavy pants from the both of you. You clench around him and he speeds up, abusing that part deep inside of you just with his hand.

You love it when he fingers you but it’s not what you want right now—not truly.

You look up at him, shuddering at the look of unbridled lust pooling in his cerulean eyes. He always gets this certain wild look that gives you goosebumps.

“Satoru,” you manage breathlessly.

“Yeah?” He asks, just as winded.

“I want you inside me. I need to feel you.”

He sucks in a breath and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling his fingers out of you. He rolls to lay on his back, raising his hand up to his mouth and running his long tongue over the digits coated in your essence, a deep groan sounding after. It invigorates your desire for him and hurriedly, you remove your soaked underwear, freeing him of his own boxers afterward.

He sits up for a moment to get his shirt off, tossing it off the bed and then grabbing your hips, making you straddle his thighs. His hands hook under your shirt and you raise your arms so that he can remove it, the two of you now bare as the day you were born.

He wastes no time in kissing you again, this time more desperately, using one hand to guide your hips over his large cock, the other holding it still. He slides inside as you lower yourself, girth forcing you to stretch generously.

“Fuck,” you breathe into his mouth. You’re familiar with his impressive size by now but it never ceases to light a fire with your nerve-endings, length stuffing you full even before he’s bottomed out. You shudder and push him down to lay out on the bed, following him, breaking the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck. His palms grip the tops of your thighs as you lay on his chest, your skin touching everywhere. He’s so warm and sturdy beneath you, you feel like you could stay like this forever, tucked into him, split open on his dick, nestled deep inside you without any effort. You breathe in and get hit with the scent of his skin, musky and sweet in a way that’s unique only to him and completely intoxicating to you.

You push your nose more greedily into the column of his neck, moaning as he starts rolling both of your hips together slowly. Like this, his abdomen provides the perfect firm muscle to grind your swollen pearl on, heightening your pleasure.

He bends his legs to provide himself with a little barrier so that when he pushes your hips down, they don’t have anywhere to go, forcing you to take his cock deeper. It prods at your cervix and forces hot chills over your body, your hands bracing on his shoulders helplessly as he does all of the work.

You inhale deeply as he grinds up into you, walls fluttering around him, eliciting a groan from his syrupy voice.

It sends a shiver through you and wanting to chase it, you flick your tongue out over his collarbone, licking along the flesh to taste him.

“Oh,” he grunts, sucking air through his teeth as you feel him twitch inside of you. Encouraged from his response, you do it again, closing your lips around the spot and sucking. A stuttered breath is pulled from him, your hold on his arms tightening.

Like this, you just feel so safe, so content. He’s all you could ever need. Sure, he’s insufferable sometimes and his personality goes overboard naturally, but he’s never too much for you. He’s serious when he needs to be and so sincere in his sweetness, in his affection—you don’t know what you’d do without him. You thank any god that might exist along with the stars that he survived, that he prevailed and that everything is fine now. Your chest swells with all of the gratitude in the world and it spills over.

“Satoru,” you breathe, feeling tears prick at your eyes, “I love you so much.”

You feel him swallow thickly as his hands rub comfortingly up and down the expanse of your back, kisses being pressed to the top of your head.

“Me too, baby,” he replies softly, voice slightly strained with the distraction of heat around his cock. “I feel the exact same way about you.”

You sigh shakily, littering sloppy, wet kisses over his neck, starting to roll your hips in time with his.

“I’m always gonna be here,” he continues between labored pants, “You…you can’t get rid of me. Mmh—you’re stuck with me for life.”

Your kisses begin to be accompanied by involuntary whimpers, the sensation of him locked inside of you along with his smooth skin rubbing against your sensitive bud starting to overwhelm you.

“I’m gonna…h-hah…love you so much you’ll be annoyed with me,” he continues, sucking air through his teeth, “oh fuck…so glad I have you. I really am.”

You sniffle, a watery smile spreading over your lips. A few tears escape your eyes but this time they’re of joy.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you say with your entire soul.

“Nothing can keep me down for long,” he assures you, “I promise, okay? I promise.”

You nod against his neck, moaning when he speeds up, hands controlling your movements to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Sh-shit, Satoru,” you mewl, feeling your climax start to approach. His breathing gets heavier and more ragged, chest rising and falling so prominently that it jostles you on top of him, indicating that he’s just as wrecked as you are.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he exhales thinly, “Oh shit, shit, god you’re so tight…I’m gonna…”

You choke on a gasp, eyes squeezing shut. He always rambles when he’s nearing his finish, control on his words slipping, and you think it’s the hottest thing in the world.

“Ngh,” he gasps out, guiding you faster on top of him. You clench at the feeling, nearing the peak—“oh fuck, it’s gonna, it’s—a-ah, ah, fuck…”

You feel exactly when he cums, cock twitching hard as he spills against the entrance to your womb. The feeling of release pouring coupled with his incessant grinding on your mound pushes you to climax, a full body shudder taking over you as you tighten around his member.

He groans at the feeling, giving you another spurt of release, hands moving up to hug you close, pressing his cheek to your forehead.

“That was so good,” he breathes.

You nod in agreement, kissing his neck once more.

You know this is the part where you get off of him so you can clean up to get back to sleep, but you don’t want to move at all. You’re completely sated now, and the feeling of his softening cock inside of you is comforting. Undeniable proof that he’s right here with you in the form of a dull stretch in your core.

“Let’s stay like this,” you tell him, and he chuckles softly.

“It’s just that good, isn’t it?”

You snort softly, raising up to meet his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”

His smile is lazy and mirthful. “Ah, but I’m your little shit. By law you have to deal with me forever, sorry.”

He shrugs in a way that indicates he’s not sorry at all, and your grin widens.

“I’m happy to deal with you forever.”

His beautiful face is radiant with the next smile he gives you, and when your lips meet in a soft kiss, you realize that all of the anxiety and fear that nightmare had left you with has been melted away.

Satoru is real, and he’s okay. He really isn’t going anywhere. He’s safe and warm and set to live a long and happy life by your side.

When the kiss ends you lay back down on his chest, and he takes to drawing invisible circles over your back with his fingertips, the steadiness of his breath, the sureness of his heartbeat, and his comforting scent all lulling you to a peaceful sleep with the promise of his presence tomorrow.

___

A/N: I actually miss him so much to the point where it’s debilitating. I’m literally a widow at this point I might as well put a picture of him in a fuckin locket and wear it like he sent it in his last letter to me, like Gege u bitch that was our husband

Please don’t repost my work but feel free to reblog/share. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed :)

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bardic-inspo · 3 months ago

Text

aeterna nostalgia

chapter one: as it was

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Bride Tav

🩸Full Chapter List (Coming Soon) 🩸BG3 Fic Masterlist

Series Summary:

Astarion’s carefully crafted empire is thrown into upheaval when his bride falls victim to a modify memory spell. Without any memory of her lover or her own vampirism, his dark consort is a threat to both herself and her sire.

Astarion must win back her trust and affections, all while hunting down whoever sought to break the most powerful bond in Faerûn.

Chapter CW: Blood kink, masturbation, minor character death, Astarion being racist/hateful towards gnomes

A/N: This fic incorporates vampire bride lore and headcanons. Special thanks for the wonderful @locallegume for beta reading.

Click here if you prefer to read on AO3

“Sometimes, however, the emotion may be close to what mortals classify as love. The happiness of the vampire becomes tied up with the prospective bride, and its well-being depends on hers. In these cases, the vampire might actually believe it is bestowing a gift when it turns the mortal into its bride - the gift of freedom from aging and death.”

-Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires

Come to me.

Astarion allows their connection to slacken. With each step she takes nearer to him, springy anticipation pulses through their bond. It’s not unlike the wag of a tail.

And the slow dawn of his smile behind the fan of his fingers isn’t so different from the sun peering between the clouds. The sight of his most precious pet stokes that same delectable warmth inside of him.

“My sweet sunlight,” he calls to her, “how was your trance?”

His voice echoes off the vaulted ceiling of the throne room. There’s enough space in the chamber to hold dozens, but there’s only seating for two. The lavish chair at Astarion’s left is vacant as it always is. And this morning, only one needy patriar comes to the Crimson Palace to pay its lord homage. Lord Ventris is stout for a human, with a face lined in age and a dark, well-manicured beard. His attention follows Astarion’s eyeline as the gilded doors at the head of the hall groan apart.

Finer company comes his way, following the red runner that crosses the checkerboard marble. Naomi’s shift sways just past her knees. The silk robe draped over her shoulders hardly offers any modesty; she didn’t bother to cinch it.

“I was well,” she answers primly, “until I woke without you.”

Astarion adores her in that shade of mauve. It wakes the faint trace of pink in her cheeks, the flush that only blooms after she’s fed. There’s hardly any hint of it now. Astarion’s smile fades.

Lord Ventris balks, scandalized by the sight of those lithe, lilac legs striding past him. “My lady!”

Naomi matches Astarion’s unflinching stare, a slight lift at the corner of her mouth. His heart skips to the soft sound of her bare feet climbing the dais.

“It’s nearly midday,” Ventris prattles on, “surely some shoes, at least slippers--”

“Are you worried I might step on something sharp?” Her voice is steel as she stops, her cheek only halfway turned.

“I-I’m merely expressing benign concern. Not many drow hold title here, so perhaps you’re uneducated on the typical decorum befitting your husband’s house. But--”

“You shouldn’t worry so much. This is my home. I know exactly where all the sharp things are.”

Astarion pats his thigh expectantly. Like a sword to a sheath, Naomi slides into her customary place in his lap. He lets out a long, satisfied sigh while she settles against him. Her smile curves against his collar.

To Ventris, he snaps, “Our house is the reason why you still have one. And I understand it’s a further favor you came here to ask. Do get on with it.”

“I-- “ he stammers, “of course, Lord Ancunín. As I was saying, you’ve invested greatly in the city’s revival, in the restoration of so many of our most prized institutions. I know you recognize the value of legacy, and its role in the renewed prosperity of the Gate. The preservation of its eldest, most distinguished lineages…”

Ventris speaks as he’s commanded, but Astarion doesn’t deem to listen. His head dips to the fine edge of Naomi’s ear, nosing past a stray wave of ivory hair hanging free of her bun. His arm winds her waist, clutching her close.

“Are you well now, darling? Now that I’ve remedied my wrongs?”

Naomi hums contentedly, eyes shut, head tucked into the crook of his neck. And yet, he’s acutely aware of the disquiet lurking at the fringes of her happiness, circling their safe haven like a mangy dog seeking scraps.

“I think not,” Astarion murmurs darkly. “You're hungry, aren’t you, sweet thing?” His fingers stroke beneath her chin and guide her gaze to his.

Even as the ascendant, he can’t curtail her hunger entirely. He can only see to it that she never feels it for more than a moment.

“Only as much as you allow me to be,” she says, batting her eyes open again. There’s a glimmer of laughter in them, among his favorite shade of cherry. He expected her eyes to change color when she turned, but he hadn’t expected she’d keep a tinge of her former violet. A lovely surprise.

You’re full of surprises, he’d told her once, when they were only just beginning. Aren’t you?

Astarion had known he was making a bride, and not simply a spawn, the night she knelt for him. He’d known they’d be bound for eternity. Aeterna Amantes. As it should be. As it was always meant to be.

As it will be. Forever.

But how was he to know how heady her delight would feel, when it fluttered like a hummingbird from her mind to his? How intoxicating her submission would taste, when he could witness the very moment her thoughts bent for him, feel her mind yield before her body gave way exactly the way he wanted?

Without compulsion. Without question. Without barriers. With a bond like theirs, nothing between them is secret and all of it is sacred.

Perhaps accounts of other such unions exist. But there’s never been a vampire ascendant before; there’s never been an ascendant bride, either. None of the crusted scrolls he inherited from Cazador could’ve warned him how utterly offensive her slightest discomfort would come to feel.

That he’d feel it exactly as his own discomfort.

“How could I sit idle while my precious treasure starves?” He implores her with a blooming pout. “What manner of husband would I be, hm?”

Ventris, on the other hand, seems to have forgotten his manners entirely. He dares a step towards the dais, volume rising with the red in his cheeks.

“...and so I ask you, Lord Ancunín, what manner of philanthropist makes donations to some Sharran sanctuary? Hasn’t this city seen enough fanatics? They say those cultists have a new compound, thanks to you! And the Upper City has a new, so-called theater in your so-called lady’s name! Well, sir, I see no lady here! And that should tell you what opinion I have of that den of debauchery she’s opened!”

Astarion arches a brow. Ventris’ lower lip quivers as he babbles on.

“And you build all of this while my own house remains half-ruined! It was a proud estate before that business with the brain. Curious how all of my neighbors managed to escape the worst of the debris. Curious how they’ve already rebuilt what was broken!”

Naomi raises her head, surveying Ventris lazily. Astarion hears her effortlessly, as if the words were said aloud. Were you going to kill him with or without me?

Astarion’s answer is honest, if not innocent at all. You’d be fed either way. It’s simply a happy accident.

“It’s quite simple, Ventris,” Astarion shrugs. “You’re not necessary. Your daughter will marry that sweetheart of hers that you hate so much, what’s remaining of your pride will be inherited by their heirs, and the world will be better for it. Without you and those gaudy pillars in the way of what should be a pretty sea view from the Upper City. A pity the mindflayers didn’t finish leveling your estate. Though, I suppose they made the job easier.”

“How dare you!” Ventris fumes, spittle flecking his beard. “I’ll have your name dragged through the streets! The city will know you spent coin on the Sharrans-- and that gods forsaken whorehouse--”

“You won’t. Besides, Grand Duke Ravengard already knows. He’ll suppress any slander because he knows every other patriar is in my pocket. After all, their own coffers are so pitifully empty these days. That’s why you’re here, Ventris. To beg.”

Ventris shrivels into his ill-fitted suit coat. Astarion’s free hand curls around the armrest of his throne.

“So I’ll say it a second time,” Astarion sneers, “There won’t be a third. Get on with it.”

“I--” Ventis stammers, cheeks purpled with indignation. “You won’t get away with--”

Naomi snaps her fingers. Violet light sparks between them. “On your knees.”

It’s not the kind of compulsion Astarion can wield, but a spell that works in the same vein. Ventris drops with a shrill cry, kneecaps crunching against the hard stone.

Naomi slinks from his lap. Astarion catches her hand as she goes, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. The faint, lingering thrum of her magic tingles pleasantly against his lips.

She stalks forward, predatory. As her hands slip from his, her robe slips from her shoulders, pooling like spilled wine at her heels. Ventris quivers, a little leaf buffeted by the wind, but he can’t flee. And he still can’t help himself from staring, ogling at what isn’t his.

Astarion’s grip on the armrest tightens to a chokehold.

Sunlight slices the room in brilliant rays, as righteous as any flaming sword. And in it, Naomi is scintillating. The sheer fabric of her shift seems more mist than material. His eyes burn across her supple shape, taking in the ripple through her breasts with every step, and the tease of her nipples, pushing pert against her nightgown.

Astarion wets his lips, letting a fang tug at the tender flesh. Anticipation thrums through him again, only now, it’s hot. Thick. Permeating.

His grip on the armest eases as he leans back in the chair.

Ventris’ mouth hangs open, a great gaping maw for such a middling, waste of a man. His wide eyes bore into the last sight he’ll see. And what a sight she is. Naomi tilts her head one way, then the other, peering down at her meal like a bird choosing a worm.

She’s careful, picking her vein. She’s not, when she claws a hand into his hair, lifts him from the floor by a fist of it, and rips into his throat.

Because she wants it to hurt.

Screams slap wet against the palace walls. Astarion’s head falls back in his chair, his eyes slitted. The ceiling swims in a blur above him. He can feel the blood flooding warm in Naomi’s mouth, the spray of it coating the back of her throat. The thickness of it, swelling stiff within his trousers.

He parts his buttons hastily, stroking his hardened length, scarcely feeling his own touch. It’s her tongue he feels instead. Surrounding him. Sucking so greedily. Taking, just as he taught her to.

Her cheeks hollow as she pulls for more, more. And of course, more is what she gets. Blood leaks sticky sweet down her chin. Astarion’s cock throbs with her every moan.

It's effortless now, to pretend it's her mouth around his girth and not his own hand. He doesn't even have to picture it. She lets him feel every pleasure that ever paints her pretty lips. Like they were his own.

She is his own. Naomi and all her tenderness belong to him. Every pleasure she takes, Astarion takes, too. And while she’s taking her fill, she feels the familiar fit of his cock in her mouth, pouring fresh heat into the body he made perfect forever. Into the woman he’s unmade an untold number of times.

His hips buck into empty air. A groan splits through his teeth. Naomi peels from her meal with a slick pop of lips, gasping with the raw edge of a growl. Astarion’s release spurts warm across his fingers. He slouches limp and boneless in his seat, relishing in the feel of her soaked within and without. Just as she should be.

He blinks blearily, chasing the breath he takes for pleasure and not for purpose. Slowly, the room steadies. He sits up, wincing as he tucks his sated, sensitive cock back into his trousers.

Naomi eases back, crouched over the corpse that was Ventris. Her chest heaves. She pants in tandem with Astarion. Not because she has to; her body echoes his own, reeling from the feel of his ascended heart thudding within his ribs.

When they’ve both come to their senses, Astarion comes to her.

“What memory kept you tranced so late, dear?” His voice is soft, even as he scolds. What could ever be sweeter than meeting again in the flesh?

“I missed you, too.”

Astarion raises his hand lazily, and she leans forward, still kneeling. One by one, his fingers slip between her plush lips, her tongue wicking away the spend still left on them. When they’re clean, he grips her chin and turns it aside so he can see the marks on her neck that made her his evermore.

Blood blooms in stains near the neckline of her shift. It reminds him of the flowers found in their courtyard garden. His eyes drip with the leak of her leftovers, roaming over her the fresh flush waking in her skin. What a lovely, murderous, and reverent thing she is. Pride flares like a lively hearth beneath his ribs, fed by the warmth billowing from her head into his.

She’s hungry no longer. And happy. An easy smile lifts his lips.

“Well?” He prompts, expectant.

“I was remembering our wedding hunt,” she answers dreamily, eyes-half lidded.

Astarion’s smirk widens, his fangs peering out. What a delicious memory to sink into. Savory enough to trance the day away.

There was the night they wed truly. After taking her fill of him, Naomi knelt, and Astarion had his fill of her. He bit her thrice, drained her dry, and bound her as his bride for all of time to follow. The papers that came later put her surname on record as Ancunín. But they didn’t make her his; she belonged to him already.

There was the party. Mostly, they hosted it for the patriars they intended to weave into their web of influence. They spared no expense for the lavish affair. He could think of no finer way to spend Cazador’s fortune than on his and his darling’s debut into Baldurian high society.

And then, there was the hunt.

Wordlessly, it slips into his mind from hers: not the extravagant soiree, but the party of unfortunate souls that stumbled into the palace drunk that very eve. They later woke to white, opalescent stone walls. Pearly bricks laid where Astarion had once shrieked and bled uncounted times beneath Godey’s blades.

But that night, not a speck of blood or dirt stained the corridors to the old kennels. Astarion still hasn’t settled on the chambers’ future use, but he rather likes them better this way, as a polished blank slate. The sheen is crisp enough, he can see his clear reflection every time he stalks those halls.

He sees his own stunning visage again in the play of Naomi’s memories. He sees the seven huddled, sniveling figures that awaited them there, and feels their spines shudder again. His mouth waters at the mere recollection of it.

“The last of you alive will live forever,” he told them cheerfully, before cutting them free of their bonds. “Run along now! Go on!”

And off they scampered, scrabbling over each other in their desperation to reach a destination forever out of reach. There’d be no escape. Not a living one, anyway.

Astarion had turned to his bride. So beautiful, sheathed in an ivory gown with the finest of shimmers, her long white hair plaited back, a sheer veil draped over it. A teardrop train of lace fanned from the flared edge of her skirts, and her eyes glowed with the promise of violence.

He lifted Naomi’s chin in a delicate grip. “Now, feast, my sweet.”

The memory smears, vivid red. Red, like the dripping trails down the walls. Red, like color she stained his pristine coat when their lips collided, a hungry mess of blood and adoration. Red, like the streaks across her wedding gown as Astarion tore through it. He swore he saw handprints at her skirts, in the brief blur before he ripped her free of them. Perhaps her victims gripped them for mercy.

Astarion’s grip on her hips was anything but merciful. Binding, perhaps. And liberating, all the same.

It was hours later, his body weak with bliss, Naomi bare and drifting towards trance in his arms, that he lifted her from his throne and brought them both to bed.

Presently, she muses, “It took me forever to find that fucking Harper. Could’ve been her that you made spawn instead of Zylar.”

Astarion smirks. Naomi drained all but one of their late-night guests that evening. Their final victim was a promising twenty-something human named Zylar with no surname, no family, and nothing but a fervent dedication to his duties as a Flaming Fist. Astarion took that dedication for his own. Now, Zylar will be young forever, live out all his small dreams of climbing the Fists’ ranks, and, most importantly, serve the interests of the Ancuníns above all else.

When Zylar rose as Astarion’s second spawn, gaping in horror at the blood-smeared walls that surrounded him, Astarion told him, “Clean it up. With your mouth, if it pleases you.”

Within the hour, the old kennels were spotless once more.

Now, he snaps his fingers at the cloaked shadow lurking at the edge of the audience hall. At once, Zylar peels from the perimeter, prowling towards the corpse at the heart of the room. There’s barely blood on the tiles at all, but Astarion’s sure there won’t be a speck of it left by the time they return here.

“Your lessers will see to the scraps, my dear,” he says, offering Naomi his arm. She takes it, rising to his side. “I have something to show you. A present.”

The happy hum in her head is a knowing one. They enter the ballroom, where the white marble tile swirls with gold, and a long, windowed wall overlooks the palace gardens. There waits her latest gift, shining radiant in the sunlight. Her smile is a fitting match for it.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathes.

They’ve had three such marvels call this ballroom home in just as many years. She’s said the same of the other two as well. He’s inclined to agree. The grand piano shimmers, resplendent. All but the keys and its insides are coated in gold leaf. The lid is propped, shedding light on landscape painted on its underside: Baldur’s Gate, by view of the sea, vivid in the setting sun.

Astarion allows her to part from his arm and rush to the piano, as if it’s a lover she’s running towards, and not away from. His arm sways, empty at his side, in the wake of her momentum. The delicate stroke of her fingers down the keys plays the most delectable shiver down his own spine. A long, stuttering sigh leaves his lips.

Strange that, only three short years ago, she didn’t know what to do with the first piano he gifted her. He remembers, crystal clear, the timid trepidation that crept across her face, the hesitancy with which she reached and just barely brushed the keys.

“Little love,” he’d purred in her ear, “whatever could be the matter?”

“I-I don’t know how to play it,” she’d confessed, sheepishly retracting her fingers. He’d seen those same nimble hands curl the neck of a fiddle and flit effortlessly across a flute at least a hundred times over.

Astarion only grinned, letting his teeth graze the slant of her ear. “You’ll learn it. We’ve an eternity now, darling. You can take as much time as you wish and never run out of it.”

He never tires of taking his time with her. Taking her here, in the ballroom, even at the expense of their most expensive furnishings. No, this one won’t last any longer than the others, he decides as she saddles over the cushioned bench, her hands poised. He wets his lips, mulling over at least a dozen ways to put an arch in her back as she straightens tall.

But, in the interest of not breaking her gift so soon after it's been given…

He turns, like the perfect vision of restraint he is, and says, “Why don’t you play me something as pretty as you are?”

The instrument was made for her, and Naomi plays it as if it’s what she was always meant to do. What pours from the piano melts across his ears and leaves a saccharine taste on his tongue. It carries the tang of her magic with it, as all her music does. Tantalizing. Mesmerizing. Numbing, in its own way. Astarion could spend hours soaking in it. He’s spent so many mornings this way, warmed by the sun, staring out over the city he and his consort share, complicit with her in shared contentment.

Siren, some call her in whispers. They’re right to whisper. Astarion’s seen Naomi kill with one.

He stiffens to the sound of a throat clearing. It’s a cutting, and unwelcome intrusion. Claude, the rancid little gnome who tuts at him so expectantly, is eternally an intrusion.

It’s the carrot of vampirism Claude chases. It’s easy enough to dangle it, just out of reach. He served Cazador with a religious fervor. He serves Astarion with even more zeal. He’s mortal, still, and Astarion can’t think of a single good reason to turn a servant already so eagerly playing their role. The thought alone makes his stomach roil.

“My Lord,” the nasally wretch says, “they’re waiting for you in your office.”

Astarion scowls. For all the patriars they’ve killed, there’s still a bumper crop of them crowding into his office every other week. Wanting the favor of Baldur’s Gate’s best-loved benefactor. Unknowingly begging at the heels of the one and only Vampire Ascendant.

Such is the ignorant bliss of the cattle. He’s more than they know. But they know well enough to beg while they still can.

What they do know is that he’s a hero. A savior of the city. The holder of its purse strings, while his heroine lover pulls the strings of the city’s heart. All in service to the web of power and influence that will see him named Grand Duke by summer’s end.

“Shall I tell them you’ll reschedule?” Claude asks.

“No,” he relents with an exasperated groan. “You shall not.”

Naomi plays on as he passes, but he feels a tug in the back of his mind. A flicker of a familiar feeling: her hand leaving his, and his arm left loose with an empty grasp.

I won’t be but an hour, my sweet. And then, I think, it’s back to bed with you. I think you might never leave it.

Her answer floats about his mind like a dandelion buffeted by the wind. I think I died happy.

Happy, Astarion muses, already half a palace away from her. He pauses by the mirror in the corridor, adjusting his high collar before he makes for his office door and the waiting patriars. As you should be.

Astarion drums the richly polished oak with restless fingers, his chin situated in his other palm. From his seat at the table’s head, he has a prime view of today’s entertainment: a pair of bickering magistrates. They hold the table’s attention as they trade barbs, too ablaze in their own irritations to notice their host’s growing disinterest.

Do try to pay attention, dear, Naomi snickers in his head. We paid a hefty sum to get this little feud off the ground, after all.

Ostensibly, Lady Ancunín isn't interested in politics. Such manners bore her, and would detract from her management of the city’s finest theater. In reality, it's as if his little love never left his lap at all. She should be in this chair. He’s the one who's bored.

Naomi’s left the piano now, though it plays on without her. Her steps patter in the back of his mind as she takes to the footpath through their gardens, her music still wafting pleasantly with the scent of the roses. With their minds linked, she listens more closely to his meeting than he can bear to.

Astarion’s gaze drifts to the open windows, to the bustling Gate, throbbing with life. Ripe for the taking, all due to his careful tending. A breeze ruffles the curtains, carrying the salt of the sea with it.

It used to thrill him, to sit here, steeple his hands, and watch his empire be built brick by unwitting brick. He’s amassed enough influence to carry a current, even while sitting entirely still. There’s an inevitability to it all now that should please him. Instead, he feels the restless urge to pluck those bricks from the pile and dash all the heads in this room with them. To hear fresh screams instead of circular whining. But instead, he must endure their peevish--

Silence.

Abruptly, Astarion stiffens. The patriars prattle on unbothered, but beneath their noise, a stagnant quiet furls through his halls like a fast-moving fog, setting his hairs on end. Across the palace, the piano ceases playing. It’s not a remarkable change on its own; the magic expires after some time without Naomi’s touch.

That familiar, slipping sensation comes again: the feel of Naomi’s palm sliding from his and leaving it empty. His head feels empty as an echoing, vacant cathedral, only home to his own thoughts. His own mind.

Darling? The word reverberates inside his skull, making it no farther than it would if he said it aloud in this room without her. His nails claw the table’s edge.

Naomi? Answer me. He calls again, anger flaring, but it feels futile. Like banging his fists against stone.

Footsteps race down the corridor. His head turns for the door before the knob even moves. By the time it opens, he’s already standing. Every head in the room turns to Claude stammering frantically in the doorway.

“M-My lord, a visitor--”

Astarion grips his collar, storming from the room with the little wretch in tow.

“Lord Ancunín,” an old crone of a tiefling barks from the other end of the table, “what is the meaning of--”

Astarion slams the door on her inane protest, not even pausing to savor the flinch that passes through his captive audience.

“Where is your mistress?” Astarion growls.

“The throne room,” Calude answers meekly. “W-we think.”

“You think?!” Astarion releases his grip on Claude’s shirt, wiping his hand on the leg of his pants.

He doesn’t wait for Claude to elaborate. Astarion sheds his form and flies. Moments later, he materializes again before the great shut doors to his audience hall. A blue veil of magic simmers over them.

With a boiling vitriol, he rounds on the other elf kneeled near the doors. Strictly speaking, Emilia is his favorite of his lesser spawn. It isn’t the highest of praises; her only competition is Zylar, and her knack for magic makes her useful. And yet, he feels a dawning hatred for her as she crouches there, glowing hands outstretched in vain.

“What in the hells is this?” He shouts, the sound bounding like fitful thunder.

“A magical barrier, my Lord,” Emilia says, strained. “It’s elaborate, but I’ll have it down shortly.”

“Who cast this? Who’s in there with her?”

“We received a visitor at the front door. He said the gatekeep allowed him entry, that he was a scholar from Waterdeep here to inform you of something of great import. He didn’t give a name. We intended to turn him away, but Claude went to Lady Naomi to inform her, and the lady said she would see him in your absence. She awaited him here, but all the doors closed when he entered, and the barriers appeared at once.”

Astarion grits his teeth. “And the guards at the gate simply let him pass?”

“It seems so.”

How could that be?! Astarion snarls, his fist curling with flame. He hurls it at the barrier, but the firebolt only melts harmlessly against its surface, dissipating into useless smoke.

His bond with his bride can be turned like a faucet on either end, but neither of them can stem the drip of it entirely. Naomi would never wish for such separation. But even if she had, she could never hide from him fully.

And yet, he hadn’t even an inkling of this stranger’s arrival. The last he felt her, she’d been in the gardens raking her fingers through thorns, savoring the sting of the cuts, and thinking of his fangs.

“I believe Zylar is in there as well, my Lord.”

Astarion tenses, thoughts racing. Zylar never stays anywhere alone with Naomi if he can help it. Ever since the wedding hunt, he’s stayed terrified of her.

His mind blanks abruptly. The barrier dissipates, flecks of magic raining down from the doorway like sleet. The doors part. Through the narrow split, he sees Naomi as her knees buckle against the marble.

A cloaked figure looms over her, one hand outstretched, the other clutching a fluttering scroll. Red magic twists just above Naomi’s forehead, coiling on itself like a knotted vine. Astarion surges towards them.

Ascension made him swifter than anything he’s yet to encounter. Sharper. Stronger. But now that he’s near enough to see the spell reflecting in Naomi’s irises, near enough to see them washed in fear, his bones feel leaden. Slow.

Weak.

The spell flares into a blinding, burning orb. Bloody light scorches the room. Astarion feels the heat of it spear through his temples. Carving, like the tadpole used to. Cutting. His lips split around the pain, but it’s Naomi’s scream that pierces his ears.

The quiet that comes after lays against the room like a knife to a throat.

Naomi wavers where she kneels. Astarion skids across the floor, catching her before she can collapse. The light vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving the cloaked mage crumpled in a limp heap.

“Master!” Emilia gasps. “Master wait-- she might--”

“Shh,” Astarion coos, caressing a hand through Naomi’s hair and down her cheek. Blood leaks from the corners of her fluttering eyes, drying in dark trails. The magic burns a ruby outline around her body before it sinks beneath her skin.

“I’m here,” he rasps, pleading. “Come to me, darling. Come back to me.”

He holds a taut breath as her eyes open wider. Naomi blinks dazedly up at him, lips trembling, face glazed in confusion. Her gaze settles to his and sharpens.

“W-who are you?”

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean the world to me if you let me know you did in box at the end here. It's scary and exciting and invigorating to share a new story!

And HUGE thank you to so many Tumblr moots and discord friends who have supported me along the way in drafting this one. 💜

#the fic otherwise known as modify memory #astarion #ascended astarion #tavstarion #dark consort #astarion ancunin #lord astarion #vampire lord astarion #bg3 #naomi tavriel #aeterna nostalgia #my writing

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