#Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen

[zentarablog]

The French Revolution: 10 Key Events That Toppled a Monarchy

The French Revolution, a period of profound social and political upheaval in France from 1789 to 1799, remains one of the most pivotal and transformative events in human history. It wasn’t merely a series of protests; it was a radical dismantling of an ancient regime, a violent overthrow of monarchy, aristocracy, and the Church’s entrenched power, in favor of principles like liberty, equality,…

[oneofthosecrazycatladies]

This post is my attempt to track what’s going on with US politics. This post is constantly being updated so if you see this on your dash, check my blog (this post will be pinned) to see the latest version. If there’s anything I miss that you think should be included on this list, please let me know.

January-March 2025

April 2025

National Politics:

Pam Bondi is seeking the death penalty for Luigi Mangione [x][x]

Workers at at least five federal agencies are being offered “deferred resignations” [x]

Trump administration admits that one person sent to El Salvador was a mistake [x]

Trump unveils 10% tariff on all imports, plus reciprocal tariffs on dozens of nations [x]

Trump fires three national security officials after meeting with far-right activist Laura Loomer [x]

Dr. Oz has been confirmed to lead the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid [x]

Trump has once again extended the sell-by date for TikTok [x]

Federal judge orders return of man Trump administration accidentally sent to notorious El Salvador jail [x]

Supreme Court overruled federal judge about man deported to El Salvador [x]

Supreme Court is allowing Trump administration to deport under the Alien Enemies Act [x]

RFK Jr will tell CDC to stop recommending fluoride in water [x]

Supreme Court lets Trump move forward with firing thousands of federal workers [x]

Republicans and Democrats in the House of Representatives are debating a bill to stop Trump’s tariff policy [x]

IRS will share information about taxpayers with Homeland Security in order to go after undocumented people [x]

A federal judge has ruled that Mahmoud Khalil can be deported [x]

The Trump administration wants to give $10,000 to every person in Greenland to persuade them to join the US [x]

Trump orders an investigation of two of his former officials who defied him [x]

The Social Security Administration is moving all of its public communication to X [x]

Trump has exempted smartphones and computers from tariffs [x]

Department of Labor is paying DOGE employees $1.3 million in taxpayer money [x]

Social Security Administration declares thousands of migrants dead in order to get them to self-deport [x]

Marco Rubio says he has the power to deport people based on “past, current, or expected beliefs” [x]

Trump administration cuts off all federal funding for museums and libraries [x]

Trump signed an executive order overriding regulations on shower heads [x]

Trump administration has frozen $2 billion in federal funding from Harvard University [x]

Department of Health and Human Services will remove gender diamond from the list of protected disabilities [x]

Judge finds probable cause to hold Trump administration in contempt over deportation flights [x]

Trump will put 21% tariffs on Mexican tomatoes [x]

DHS threatens to revoke Harvard’s eligibility to host international students unless it turns over disciplinary records [x]

Trump administration proposes changes to the Endangered Species Act that would make it easier to harm endangered species [x]

Trump is replacing the acting IRS commissioner [x]

Trump will enact a new rule that will make it easier to fire even more federal workers [x]

A bill has been introduced into Congress called the Raise the Wage Act that would raise the minimum wage threshold to $17 an hour [x]

Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth shared information ahead of Yemen strikes in a Signal chat with wife and brother [x]

U.S. could lose democracy status, says global watchdog [x]

Education Department will resume involuntary collection of defaulted student loans [x]

FDA says it will phase out petroleum-based food dyes [x]

Trump administration asks Supreme Court to allow transgender military ban [x]

FEMA losing roughly 20% of permanent staff, including longtime leaders, ahead of hurricane season [x]

Trump is going after an organization that fundraises for Democratic campaigns (but is not going after any Republican fundraising organizations) [x]

Trump wants to create a “Garden of American Heroes” [x]

3 US citizen children, including one with cancer, have been deported [x]

Roughly 70% of Justice Department’s Civil Rights Division expected to accept resignation offer [x]

Trump is giving people VIP access to the White House if they buy his cryptocurrency [x]

JD Vance cast a tie-breaking vote to kill a bipartisan bill that would’ve restrained Trump’s tariff policies [x]

State Politics:

A judge ruled that Alabama can’t prosecute people who help with out-of-state abortions [x]

Resolution pending in Alaska Legislature urges more federal support for NOAA weather buoys [x]

Arizona joins lawsuit to stop Trump administration from rescinding $11.4B in health funding [x]

Arizona Governor Katie Hobbs (D) signs a slew of legislation on issues including health care, development, real estate, and crimes against children [x]

Results from the special elections in Wisconsin and Florida [x]

Arkansas state legislature advances a bill that would effectively eliminate CVS pharmacies in the state [x]

Connecticut lawmakers are trying to pass a bill to protect immigrants from deportation [x]

Florida senate passes a law to adopt “Gulf of America” on state maps [x]

There’s a new case of measles in Hawaii [x]

Illinois Governor JB Pritzker (D) signs trade agreement with the UK [x]

There are 5 new cases of measles in Indiana [x]

North Carolina Supreme Court has allowed Republicans to effectively steal an election [x]

Tornado victims blocked from federal recovery aid after Trump denied request [x]

More than 800 people are rounded up in mass ICE arrest in Florida [x]

Federal agents and ICE raided and robbed the home of a US citizen family in Oklahoma City [x]

Other News:

Columbia Expels And Pulls Degrees For Some Students Who Occupied Building During Pro-Palestinian Protests [x]

Senator Cory Booker (D-NJ) broke the record for longest filibuster in Senate history [x]

Hundreds of thousands of Americans protest the Trump administration across the country [x]

A teacher in Florida has been fired for using a student’s preferred name [x]

Secretary of the Interior Doug Bergum demands his staff bake him chocolate chip cookies [x]

Secretary of Education Linda McMahon calls AI “A1” [x]

Trump takes Russia’s side on their latest air strike [x]

Shooting at Florida State University [x]

Activists pile 200 coffins outside State Department to protest cuts to global AIDS relief [x]

Many immigrants are deciding to self-deport out of fear [x]

Activist pastor who has criticized Trump arrested while praying inside Capitol [x]

May-June 2025

I had a hard time figuring out what I wanted to say because, honestly, I’m exhausted. And I’m sure you’re exhausted too. We need to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. So, don’t disengage or check out, but do make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Also, if you’re going to protest, please keep your protests peaceful. Resorting to violence makes you as bad as them.

And remember: we are stronger together. They want us to feel isolated, but we’re not. Diversity is strength. Community is strength. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

[orellazalonia]

Heart First, Sanity Later

Summary: You, a dangerously chaotic genius with the common sense of a soggy spoon, somehow captures the heart of Bucky Barnes. Despite the constant emotional whiplash, raccoon-related injuries, and deeply cursed inventions, Bucky finds himself falling hard… somewhere between a Capri Sun intervention robot and a vent-related rescue. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: This was based on this post I came across from @ghouljams earlier. Please let me know if you want me to remove any of the information you listed here.

Word Count: 3.4k+

A/N: I had a blast writing this and I am begging on my hands and knees that other people like this as well so I can write more of unhinged reader. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Sequel | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

Bucky didn’t mean to get attached. In fact, he very specifically meant not to get attached to you.

You, with your wide smile and increasingly concerning decision-making skills. You, who walked into a briefing ten minutes late with a Slurpee, claimed you got “time-displaced,” and then flawlessly identified the year, model, and VIN of a car from a blurry photo Tony handed out. “That’s a 1972 Chevelle SS,” You’d said casually. “But the rims are from a later model. 1976, I think.”

He stared at you. Everyone did.

You slurped. “What?”

Later, Bucky watched you put your phone in the fridge, forget about it, then ask him if he’d “seen a text from 7-Eleven recently.” You didn’t even seem high. That was the worst part. You just… existed like that. All the time.

A living contradiction. A walking cosmic joke. The human version of a browser with 72 tabs open, one playing music, none labeled, and all of them about wildly different topics ranging from “theoretical wormhole stability” to “can ducks feel shame.”

And the worst part? You were insanely good at your job.

When it came to the field, you moved like you’d choreographed every punch in advance. Like your brain hit a switch and rerouted all the loose marbles into sheer precision.

But outside of that? Absolute chaos.

One time you asked if the word “colonel” was a typo because you’d only ever read it.

"Why is it spelled like 'colon-el'?” You’d asked Bucky, eating popcorn with a throwing knife for apparently no reason. “Like. You’re telling me we all just agreed to ignore the 'L'?”

He blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“Sounds fake but okay.”

He wanted to strangle you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to wrap you in a blanket and take you to a doctor because no one should eat four bananas and not know why their stomach hurts. (“I thought they were like… nature’s snack bars!” You’d wailed from the floor. “Why does nature lie?”)

Still, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. Something that made Bucky keep finding excuses to be around you. Something that made him bite back a smile when you declared, with utter confidence, that “Citizen Kane” was a man’s full name and you “felt bad for him growing up with that.”

Sam had to leave the room. Steve looked like he aged five years. Bucky? He just leaned back in his chair and muttered, “You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”

You beamed. “I know, right?”

And that was just the beginning.

-

Bucky knew it the moment you turned to him in the middle of a high-stakes infiltration and whispered:

“Hey. Do you think raccoons ever get embarrassed?”

He froze mid-step, crouched beside you behind a cluster of storage crates, both of you watching a Hydra compound patrol pace along the wall ahead. Guns primed. Comms live. Two minutes to breach.

You blinked at him, eyes wide and totally serious about the question in the entirely inappropriate setting.

“What?” He hissed.

You frowned thoughtfully, like he was the weird one. “They have those little hands, right? Like… what if one drops its snack in front of another raccoon. Is that, like, raccoon shame? Do they feel judged?”

Bucky stared. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. It had been a long week after all.

Then you added, “Anyway, two guards approaching. They’ll pass each other in about four seconds. I can take the left. You want the one with the scar?”

You didn’t even wait for an answer. Your body vanished into the shadows, clean and calculated. Three seconds later, both guards were unconscious and being gently rolled into the bushes like unwanted pizza boxes.

Bucky just stood there, breathing. You terrified him but not in the way enemies did. No, that would be too simple. Because he could fight Hydra, take a bullet, disarm a bomb, but you?

You were something else. A walking contradiction.

You once tripped over your own shoelaces while explaining quantum theory, then beat four highly trained operatives unconscious with a clipboard. You called a Glock a “grippy lil’ pew stick” but recited the Geneva Convention word-for-word because you “liked bedtime reading.”

And tonight was no different.

By the time the mission was done, the intel recovered, and the building cleared, Bucky was sore, bruised, and fully convinced that he was doomed. Because somewhere between the absurd commentary, the flawless fighting, and the way you wiped blood from your brow and grinned at him like you weren’t covered in chaos, he felt it.

That thing. The awful, nauseating, heart-clutching feeling.

Affection.

It hit him in the middle of your post-mission debrief, which mostly consisted of you sitting on the quinjet floor, drinking chocolate milk out of a thermos and recounting the entire op like it was a cute story you were telling children.

“And then I was like, Bam! right to the neck, and he just went down like a sack of sad potatoes. Did you see that? You saw that, right, Buck? I did the thing with the kick!”

He didn’t answer. He was looking at you like you’d grown a second head or like how you were the only thing stuck in his head these days. God, you were awful.

You had blood on your elbow and half your gear undone. You were sprawled out on the floor like a sleep-deprived gremlin, and when you looked up at him and smiled, like he was the only person in the world who mattered… He was done. Gone.

“You okay there, Grumpypants?” You asked.

“I think I might hate you,” He muttered, sitting down beside you.

You grinned, bumping his shoulder with yours. “That’s fair. I’m an acquired taste. Like oysters. Or war crimes.”

He barked a laugh before he could stop it. You looked so proud.

“I’m serious,” He said, sobering. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day. You don’t take anything seriously.”

You just stared at him for a moment, and then, quietly, you said, “I take you seriously.”

The jet went quiet.

And Bucky sat very, very still because somehow, that hit harder than any mission ever had.

You weren’t just funny. Or weird. Or brilliant in a way that made his head hurt.

You were kind. Kind in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Like you saw through the Winter Soldier and the scowl and the kill count, and you still chose to sit beside him, sipping chocolate milk and talking about raccoon shame.

And Bucky Barnes, world-weary assassin, trauma-laden super-soldier, turned to you and realized:

He was fucked.

In love with a person who once confidently said “quinoa” was pronounced “kin-oh-ah” and didn’t believe him when he corrected you.

You looked up from your thermos. “You’re doing the staring thing again. Am I bleeding from the ear?”

“No,” Bucky said, voice low. “You’re just…”

“Sexy?” You offered helpfully.

“…Terrifying.”

You winked. “Same difference.”

And Bucky Barnes, against all logic, reason, and survival instinct, knew he was already in too deep.

-

The next mission had gone off without a hitch… at least, for everyone except Bucky.

A few cuts here, a couple of bruises there, but nothing too serious. At least, that’s what he told himself as he sat on the edge of the quinjet, feeling the burn in his shoulder from a bullet graze. But the moment you walked into the medbay with a roll of bandages in your hand, it was like everything inside him twisted in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Okay, Bucky. Time to let the master do her magic,” You said, flashing that grin of yours, the one that always made his heart do weird, involuntary things.

Bucky blinked, trying to shake the disoriented feeling. “You’re the one who got shot today. Why am I the one getting patched up?”

“Because I’m immortal,” You said matter-of-factly. “Also, I’m not bleeding anywhere you can see, so that’s a bonus.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’re immortal?”

You sat down beside him, rolling your sleeves up. “No, but I like to pretend I am. You know, like a cooler superhero.”

He winced slightly as you poked at his side. “That’s what I’m dealing with, huh?”

“You love it,” You teased, squeezing out some antiseptic onto a cotton pad.

“You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out of a plane for this,” Bucky muttered, though he couldn’t stop the faint grin from tugging at his lips.

“Not gonna lie, I’d be mad if you did,” You admitted, gently dabbing at his side. “Also, I’d haunt you. I know how to haunt people. I’ve read a lot of books about ghosts.”

He chuckled, despite himself. “Of course you have.”

“Oh, absolutely. I even have a theory about why the Titanic sank, and it’s completely different from the official one. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not what they say.”

Bucky glanced over at you, eyebrow raised. “This I gotta hear.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice dramatically as if revealing state secrets. “Okay, so. It wasn’t an iceberg that caused the sinking. It was actually the government trying to erase all evidence of the giant squid they were experimenting on, and they blamed it on the iceberg to cover up the real cause.”

Bucky blinked, unsure whether you were serious or not. “Wait, what?” He asked slowly.

You looked at him deadpan. “You didn’t hear the rumors? They found footage, you know. The squid was huge. It even had tentacles.”

He stared at you, speechless.

"Anyway," You continued, as if you hadn’t just suggested the world’s greatest conspiracy, "What we do know is that my bandage technique is flawless. See this?" You lifted a corner of the bandage to show him a perfect wrap around his side.

Bucky blinked. "Did you just distract me with a giant squid theory while you patched me up?"

“Absolutely.” You beamed at him. “Works every time. Just don’t tell anyone you’re in love with me because I’m not responsible for any heart attacks.”

Bucky froze, his heartbeat suddenly in his throat.

You were still so nonchalant. Still so you, so damn confident and so sure of yourself. It took everything in him not to lean in and kiss you right there.

But then, you looked up at him, and for the briefest moment, that smile of yours softened. “You’re good, Bucky,” You said quietly. “You’ve been through more shit than any of us. But you’re still here. That’s something, you know?”

His chest tightened.

“And you know what?” You continued, your voice so much softer now, like a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to be a soldier all the time. Sometimes, you can just be Bucky.”

He swallowed, looking at you. “And what about you?”

“Oh, me? I’m a mess,” You shrugged, finally looking away, as if it was no big deal. “I’m just here to make the chaos look cute.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, that familiar teasing glint in them. “That’s my secret. You like it.”

Bucky chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wanted to say something, wanted to admit something. That little voice in his head kept screaming at him to just say it already, but he was scared. He was scared of how deep you had burrowed under his skin, of how easy it was to forget everything else when you were around.

Instead, he just leaned forward and cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You’re… something else, you know that?”

You blinked at him in surprise, your lips parted, as if trying to process the sudden shift in the air. For a moment, there was a palpable tension between the two of you, like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to do something.

But then, in your usual way, you broke it, shrugging with a grin. “I know. You’re welcome.”

Bucky’s heart did a weird flip, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to truly relax, just a little. He didn’t want to admit it. Not yet. Not even to himself.

But as you leaned in to finish wrapping his side, your hand brushing his skin lightly, he knew he was already in way too deep.

-

The next incident started with a toaster. Not even a cool toaster. Just a boring, silver Stark-issued kitchen appliance that you were suspiciously proud of. You’d taken it apart and rebuilt it but “better.” No one asked you to. No one gave you permission. You just did it.

“Now it sings the SpongeBob theme when your toast is done,” You explained, beaming as you held up a slice of whole wheat like it was a golden ticket.

Bucky stared at you. “You tampered with government property.”

“Enhanced.” You corrected. “And before you ask, no, I will not apologize. This is the future.”

Then it sang. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” BWEEEEEP - Toast done.

Bucky looked like he was praying for divine intervention. “You’re gonna get us all court-martialed over this.”

Two hours later, you were banned from the kitchen, which didn’t stop you from relocating to the common area with your newest project: building what you claimed was a “mousetrap but for anxiety.”

It was made of pipe cleaners, glow sticks, and what might’ve been a dismantled Roomba.

“I call her Deborah,” You said, gently stroking it. “She senses emotional instability and gives you a juice box.”

As if on cue, it whirred over to Bucky, bumped into his leg, and slowly offered him a Capri Sun.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Then she thinks you’re too far gone. She’s very wise.”

Steve walked in, surveyed the scene, and simply turned around without speaking. He didn’t even ask anymore.

Later that night, Bucky caught you in the hallway attempting to climb into the ceiling with a flashlight between your teeth and a jar of pickles under your arm.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, exhausted.

You paused halfway into a vent, dropping the flashlight briefly. “Depends. Do you believe in ceiling gremlins?”

“No.”

“Then I’m doing taxes.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Please. I’m begging you. Come down.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then slowly slid back out like a raccoon emerging from a trash can. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely and not because I got stuck.”

You had absolutely gotten stuck. And the worst part? He was smitten.

Every time you did something completely absurd, which was always, he found himself watching you a little too long, smiling a little too much, wondering what the hell you were going to do next and why it made his chest ache in a weirdly pleasant way.

Even now, covered in ceiling dust and holding a pickle jar, you looked up at him with that infuriatingly endearing grin.

“You’re in love with me,” You stated confidently.

Bucky blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You popped a pickle in your mouth. “You’ve got that look. Like a grumpy cat who accidentally cuddled someone and doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I do not look like-“

“It's okay. You don’t have to say it.” You patted his chest affectionately. “Your body language screams ‘emotionally unavailable man finds chaotic cryptid and feels things.’”

“I am not emotionally unavailable.”

“You have a go bag, Bucky.”

“…That’s standard protocol.”

“Your toothbrush is still in the packaging.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You’d won. Again.

“You’re gonna kiss me one day,” You said as you walked past him, pickle jar under one arm, flashlight in your other hand. “And when you do, I’m gonna be so smug you’ll try to throw yourself off the building.”

Bucky stood there in the hall, alone, heart doing its dumb little thudding thing. He hated you. He adored you. And he was never getting that toothbrush insult out of his head.

-

When the big moment happened, It wasn’t a big mission. It wasn’t even a real mission. It was just supposed to be recon.

And yet somehow, you were sitting on the floor of a dusty, abandoned warehouse with a concussion, holding a broken walkie-talkie like it personally betrayed you.

“Okay, but in my defense,” You slurred slightly, “I didn’t know the raccoon had a knife.”

Bucky stared at you, expression unreadable, as blood dripped slowly from your temple.

“You ran into an unmarked building alone, set off three alarms, fell through a skylight, and got jumped by wildlife.”

You held up a finger. “Armed wildlife.”

He ran a hand down his face.

“I swear to God, you are one poorly timed pun away from getting locked in a broom closet until the end of time.”

You blinked up at him. “Kinky.”

He turned away so fast you could almost hear his brain blue-screen. “Jesus Christ.”

But when he looked back at you: your lip bloodied, eyes dazed, hair full of insulation from where you’d crashed through the ceiling like a chaotic Christmas angel, something in his chest snapped.

You were always like this. Impossible. Endearing. Brilliant in the most horrifying ways. A human Wikipedia article with a death wish and a spark in your eyes that made him forget, just for a second, that the world was awful.

And that spark was flickering. Just a little. And he hated it.

“You can’t keep doing this,” He began, voice tight. “You can’t keep treating your life like it’s expendable.”

You blinked slowly. “That sounds fake. I’m clearly immortal.”

“I’m serious.” He crouched in front of you, fists clenched. “You run into every situation like you’re bulletproof, and you’re not. One day, I’m not gonna be there to drag your dumbass out of a flaming building or disarm a guy who has a bazooka made of forks or- or whatever the hell today was!”

“It was a raccoon with a grudge.”

“That’s not a thing!”

You stared at him in silence for a beat, then said, very softly, “You’re worried about me.”

He froze.

“I’m always worried about you,” He said, almost too quiet to hear. “You think I wake up every day wondering what country I’ll have to fly to because you thought jumping off a roof would ‘probably be fine’ if you landed in a bush?!”

You tilted your head. “It was a very fluffy bush.”

”I love you, you absolute menace!”

Silence. You blinked. Then he blinked. Somewhere in the warehouse, a raccoon chittered menacingly.

“…You love me?” You echoed, like he’d just said he wanted to marry a zucchini.

Bucky looked like he might actually combust. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like I love you. Which I do. But I was gonna do it after, like… dinner. Or when you weren’t bleeding.”

“Is this why you made me tea every time I electrocuted myself?”

“Yes!”

“And why you punched that guy who called me a liability?”

“Also yes!”

“And why you didn’t kill me when I installed motion sensors in the hallway and forgot to tell anyone?”

“I almost killed you.”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then: “Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded, still loopy but smiling now. “Okay. I love you too.”

He stared. “You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, why else would I let you eat the last cookie that one time? Or give Deborah full permission to follow you around and scan your emotional damage like a clingy Roomba?”

He laughed, just once, short and stunned.

You leaned forward and poked his chest with one finger. “Also, I have a very deep fondness for emotionally repressed war criminals. It’s kind of my thing.”

Bucky groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet. You’re in love with me.”

“I’m regretting it deeply.”

“No you’re not.” You smiled that crooked, chaotic smile that had ruined his life in the best way.

And despite everything, the dust, the blood, the deeply traumatized raccoon now watching you both from the shadows, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle. Just for a second. As if to say, Yes. You’re chaos incarnate. But you’re mine.

When he pulled back, it was silent for a moment. Both of you looking in each other’s eyes before you whispered, “Did you just kiss me in front of a knife raccoon?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, already regretting all his life choices. “God help me. I did.”

[absurdthirst]

The Future of Rome {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.6k

Warnings: Mentions of orgies, whores, cuckolding, voyeurism, oral sex (male and female receiving), cream pie, breeding, mentions of feeding kink, vaginal sex, pregnancy, betrayal, conspiracy, murder

Comments: When Caracalla is unable to father a child on you, his empress, he enlists General Marcus Acacius to be his proxy between your thighs. Needing his general's seed in his efforts to father the next ruler of Rome.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

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

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you watch as your husband, Emperor Caracalla of Rome, paces in the large room, screaming and shouting like an overgrown child. At times, it feels like that is what he is, a child. A man child who controls the largest empire in the world, alongside his brother Geta. The two of them engaged in squabbles that would have all of the citizens of Rome demanding new leadership if they knew of them. “You must carry a child!” He hisses, turning and glaring at you as if you are at fault for the monthly flow of blood that comes between your thighs like clockwork. “How have you not been bred yet? I fill you nearly every week.” His eyes narrow and he stops his stride to turn towards you. “Are you doing something? Taking some tonic to prevent a child from growing?” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “Of course I would not.” You tell him. “It is my duty to provide you with an heir. Before Geta.” You know your husband wishes to best his brother by having a child before he does. “You are still fucking your concubines.” You remind him. “None of them have fallen pregnant with your bastard. Perhaps your seed is bad.” You could be risking his wrath by telling him what no hippocrates would, but he has never sired one bastard and he indulges in orgies and women all the time. You have no love for the husband you had been forced to marry by your father in return for Rome not destroying your homelands.

Caracalla’s eyes grow wide and he hisses, striding over to you and you brace yourself as he hits you across the face with the back of his hand. You gasp and he looms over you, “you dare to insult me like that, uxor? I am divine. Ordained by the gods and you are? Some whore daughter of a King who wilted under the glory of the Roman army. You are fortunate I chose you to be Empress. An honor I bestow upon you and you have the gall to question my seed.” He rants but he knows you could be true. He longs to have an heir before his brother and even if he fucks you every day, you still bleed. He has never fathered a bastard. You cup your cheek, keeping your head down and he sighs, “we must seek a solution.” He declares, frowning as he considers his options to ensure he beats his brother to the heir.

You bite your lip to keep from crying, knowing that tears would only incense the man you are married to even more. Caracalla does not like to see you cry, even if he is cruel and cutting. When he punishes you for any perceived slight. Tears are a sign of weakness in his eyes and he will not have you shed them in his presence. “What solution would you have?” You know he cannot seek out a healer, the risk of rumor would be too great. Any kind of whisper about this would make its way back to Geta. 

He paces in front of the balcony, the linens flowing in the breeze. “I need an heir who will be strong, a fighter. I need a boy. I need you to give birth to the next heir. We need to ensure that you get pregnant as soon as possible.” He murmurs, speaking his mind and he finally turns to you. “We need to have someone else get you pregnant. We need - General Marcis Acacius.” He declares, eyes wide.

You frown, trying to recall what the man looks like. He has been away from Rome for nearly two years, since just after you had married Caracalla. “He looks nothing like you.” You point out.

“I don’t need him to look like me. I need a boy and he’s a strong fighter. He will give our child the characteristics he needs to lead Rome and her army.” He declares, “you will fuck him when he returns.” He orders and you swallow harshly, knowing you will struggle to have relations with a man that isn’t your husband but you have no choice but to do as he demands.

“I will gift you to him to fuck.” He continues on, a wild and honestly frightening smile splitting his face. “It will be an honor, for fighting so valiantly for Rome.” He isn’t talking to you, but rather plotting out what will happen. You can’t quite recall what Marcus Acacius looks like, but you hope that he will be quick to cum like Caracalla, or at least his seed will take root quickly.

****

Marcus looks up at the marbled entrance as he arrives at the palace to meet the Emperors and tell them about his success in person. He’s sent messengers but he must tell them of his accomplishments rather than be allowed to return to his home to relax. He sighs as he adjusts the white and gold tunic and armor that suffocates him. It’s for display, not ideal for battle, and he knows the Emperors will have a feast planned soon after his report and he’s expected to be on display. He scratches his cheek as he is escorted through the halls until he arrives in the grand hall where the Emperors are waiting. He strides to stand before them and bows his head, “Rome is in your hands.” He vows, “we have conquered Africa.” He announces, “for you and for Rome.”

Dressed in snowy white silk and gold, you are sitting off to the side, ignored by your husband and brother as they had waited for the general’s approach. You had heard the crowds outside the palace, the roars echoing dimly and you sat up slightly from the chaise when the doors had opened. Finding a much different man than you had expected walking confidently towards them. He’s older than you remembered, but his gray hair is still pleasant as it mixes with his darker locks. He’s handsome, not the sharp nosed beauty of your fair husband, but darker, broader. His nose is curved and his eyes are the color of night from where you sit. You want to see them up close. He’s large, larger than Caracalla and you wonder if you are the whore some have whispered you must be, for you want to see what this man would be like inside you.

Caracalla cannot let his brother know his plan. No one can know. Geta greets Marcus who bows his head and his dark eyes flick over to you for a moment. When you arrived at the palace you were reluctant to marry Caracalla. He remembers hearing the rumors of your attempts to escape, and the way Caracalla treats you from guards that he served with. He clenches his jaw, standing up straight and the Emperors sing his praises so he offers them polite smiles. He’s sick of war. He’s tired of fighting an endless battle for more land when the Roman Empire is struggling. People cannot eat. Men are dying. It’s an endless grab for power and the Emperors are not fighting for it themselves. “Tonight, we feast in your honor.” Geta declares, clapping Marcus on the back and he follows the Emperors to the head table where he will sit while the court and the senate celebrate his success.

When his eyes land on yours, a shiver races through your body. This is a man who has seen death. Dealt out harsh punishments and narrowly survived. He’s much more rugged, raw. So different from your spoiled and foppish husband. He should be a leader for Rome, rather than a man who has never seen war. You are ignored, so you undrape yourself from your seat and slowly stroll into the hall to join the festivities.

Marcus notices you as you sit down beside your husband and he’s taken back by how beautiful you are but he also sees the sadness in your eyes. The lifeless stare across the room tells him you’re lonely while your husband guzzles wine and cheers for the victory he played no physical part in. He does as is expected, eating and drinking his fill but he thinks about the starvation he witnessed, the poverty that the empire has caused from taxing too much and forcing more war on its people. “We shall acquire whores to pleasure you, General.” Geta insists, “you will be serviced until you feel rewarded for your victory for Rome.” The court cheers and Caracalla then leans in towards you, “return to your room. I want you ready to take the general.” He commands, whispering in your ear.

You don’t sigh, nodding and leaning in to kiss his cheek for show before you stand up and walk out of the room without looking back. Knowing the Emperor, he will want you nude and wearing some of the jewels that had been sent back to Rome as tribute. You have already been bathed and perfumed by your servants in anticipation of your husband fucking you tonight, but Caracalla always demands privacy in the wing of the palace you live in. His oddity will work in his favor for concealing who is planting his seed in your belly tonight.

Marcus is ready to head home when Caracalla whispers in his ear, “I wish to speak privately.” Marcus frowns as he pulls back to look into the manic eyes of the emperor and he knows he can never deny him. He nods and stands with the emperor. He bows to Geta even though the other emperor is busy with his tongue down a whore’s throat as the festivities begin. Caracalla dismisses his guards with a wave of his hand and he guides Marcus through the halls until he enters his private chambers. Marcus is anxious, wondering if the emperor is going to kill him even though the idea is laughable. He’s been a man of luxury. Only carrying a sword for show and never for battle. The emperor still doesn’t speak as he strides over to the doors and he opens them to display you on the bed naked and draped in jewels, a nervous look on your face. “What is the meaning of this?” Marcus demands, confused and wanting to leave to retire to his villa. Not to play games.

“I tried to imagine what kind of reward a man of your talents would enjoy.” Caracalla hums as he smirks victoriously. You are a gorgeous creature and he knows that the man will have no problem mounting you. “Whores are too boring, they have had too many men, been soiled by their pleasures.” He takes Marcus’s shoulders and turns him back towards you and the bed. “But an Empress’s cunt? She’s only had one other cock. She’s practically pure and it’s tight.” He chuckles. “My brother gives you a common whore to fuck, I give you a royal cunt.” Again, it’s a competition between the brothers and he’s determined to best Geta.

Marcus’s eyes widen at the Emperor’s offer and he looks over at you. His cock twitches under his tunic at the way you’re on display for him, but he wonders if this is some kind of test from the emperor. He swallows harshly and looks back at Caracalla. “You honor me but I am - I am satisfied with whores. I do not want to sully the empress with my - with my body. She is divine and deserves to be fucked by a man like you, a man chosen by the gods.”

You lift a brow, wondering what the Emperor will say to that. Would he admit that he has been unsuccessful in breeding you? That there is something wrong with him? Or will he blame it on you? There is no telling with Caracalla. You shift to your knees, spread apart on the bed so he can get a good look at your body.

Marcus’s cock twitches again, hardening as your breasts bounce and he swallows harshly, averting his eyes once again. “I don’t - I don’t understand.” Marcus admits, knowing that only the emperor can fuck the empress to get her with child. “I want you to fuck my uxor and I want to watch.” Caracalla confesses, “and I want you to spill your seed inside of her.”

His eyes slide over your body again and you can see the way his cock is starting to lift the fabric of his tunic. Your nipples are hardening because you are enticing this war-hardened general. “The emperor is very generous.” You tell Marcus, sliding a hand up to cup one tit. “He has never been one to share and yet he wishes to honor his general.” You don’t mention why he would want such a thing. “Do you not like cunt?” You ask, wondering if he might prefer the boys in the bath houses. You have heard rumors of some senators who often prefer the company of men than their wives. Perhaps the general is one of them.

Marcus shakes his head, “no. I- I do. It’s just -” He looks at Caracalla, “you’re the empress and I cannot - the heir cannot be from anyone but the emperor.” Marcus reasons and Caracalla reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, “you have to understand, General, I am asking you to fill up my wife. We have been unsuccessful in our venture to have an heir and I must beat my brother to it. I wish for you to spill your seed inside my empress…regardless of the consequences.” He declares and Marcus’s eyes widen slightly as he understands what is being asked of him.

You can see that Marcus Acacius is not a foolish man, he understands the danger he has found himself in. He cannot deny the Emperor, and he could never speak of it. “Maritus.” You murmur softly, bringing his attention back to you. “Tell the general what kind of son you wish to have.”

Caracalla senses Marcus’s panic and he smirks, “I want a warrior son. Someone who will be strong and fight for Rome, to protect our line.” He says even though he knows the child would not be his blood. “The name. My name must continue through him. I want a gladiator and you possess those traits. I wish for my son to have them. Do you wish to fill my beautiful wife with your seed and produce the next heir to the Roman Empire?” He asks even though he knows no one says no to the emperor.

You can see that Marcus is torn. He can’t say no, just like you could not run away from him when he had decided to take you as his empress. “He is handsome.” You coo. “Strong. He will put a son you will be proud of in my belly.” You tell your husband. “While enjoying himself by having an empress spread her thighs for him.”

Marcus knows he can’t refuse. He must fuck you and you’re a beautiful woman but he prays to the gods that the emperor doesn’t change his mind and punish you or him after the act is complete. “As my emperor wishes.” He nods and Caracalla claps, “excellent. My uxor will strip you. I wish to watch the act.” He says, spinning to make his way to the chair in the corner. Marcus is shocked that the man wants to watch but he doesn’t deny him, knowing that could be his head. He nods and walks over to the bed, waiting for your move.

Sliding off the bed, you stand straight, unashamed of your nudity. You might have only had Caracalla as a lover, but he often wanted you nude to just gaze upon you while you were together. You reach for the golden laurel on his head and remove it gently. “Tonight we will see if your prowess in battle is matched by your vigor in bed.” You smile at him, wanting to make sure he doesn’t change his mind. “If your cock truly is as big as your sword.” You giggle. “Some of the women you have fucked talk.”

Marcus’s cock is hardening with your words and your touch. You are one of the most beautiful women in the empire, if not the most, and Marcus is not immune to your beauty. You set his laurel down and Caracalla takes his place in the corner of the room. He flusters at his reputation and wonders what you will think of him. If he lives up to the rumors.

You try to forget your husband is watching, concentrating on the man in front of you. The gold wrist cuffs come off and you wonder if he would prefer the unadorned look. Rather than being weighed down by the ostentatious trappings of his role. You know you would rather live simply. “Relax, General.” You hum quietly. “The emperor has taught me how to please him. Hopefully I will please you as well.”

Marcus is nervous, anxious, and every emotion a man can be when he’s being used for his seed and watched as he pleasures the wife of one of the most powerful men in the empire. He keeps his hands by his sides until you reach for the hem of his tunic. He’s ashamedly hard, unable to be anything but when you are in front of him. You smell delicious and he knows he’d be diving into your cunt if you came to his home without your status and stature.

Biting your lip, you lift the tunic to reveal his hard cock and you moan softly. “Step back, let me look.” Caracalla demands and you turn to the side to show the emperor his cock. “He is very well endowed.” Your husband smirks. “Good. I would hate for my son to have a less than impressive cock.” He is very proud of his own, even if he is not as thick as Marcus. You reach down and brush your finger over the length as you pull the tunic over his head.

He hisses when your fingers brush his length and you smirk, tossing his tunic aside. Caracalla often indulges in men when he is in the throes of an orgy and he is impressed by the general. His shoulders are broad and muscular. Strong arms. Tapered waist and a full head of hair, albeit graying, even in his ripe age. This is the man who could sire him a son who would be legendary in Rome. “Kiss him.” Caracalla demands, wanting to be in control even if it is not his seed securing his lineage.

You lick your lips, leaning in and press your lips to the slightly chapped ones of the general. You sense his hesitation, knowing that he is unsure of the motives behind this. Instead of pulling back, you press your breasts against his chest, feeling the light hairs covering his skin tickle you.

His fingers flex and Caracalla chuckles, “you can touch her, General.” There’s the permission Marcus needs. His hands slide along your back, pulling you even closer and one hand slides up your body to cup your cheek, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue finds yours and you squeak, unused to such aggressive kissing. Caracalla likes softer especially when he’s wanting the opposite of his lovers or orgies.

Your husband hums, reaching for his wine with one hand and reaching down to squeeze his cock with the other. If it would not potentially ruin the chances of you conceiving a child, he would join you. See how Marcus kisses. Instead, he takes pleasure in knowing that the most powerful general in his army is following his orders even off the battlefield.

Marcus groans into your mouth, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass while he grips the back of your neck. He’s relieved that he sought the company of a whore before arriving back in Rome. He would embarrass himself if he were pent up. He loves the way your fingers tangle in his hair and he is glad to see the empress is not shy about taking what she wants.

The emperor very rarely lets you do what you wish, so this is a new experience for you and you are greedy for it. “Get on your knees.” The order comes from behind you and makes you pull away. Aware that Caracalla will still try to dictate the way you are fucked. “Let the general see you on your knees before him and feel your mouth around his cock.”

Marcus inhales sharply as he watches you sink to your knees in front of him. His sandals are still on his feet while his cock throbs from arousal. Your eyes are sultry as you look up at him,  looking like Venus herself. He swallows and hisses softly when you wrap your fingers around his cock.

You squeeze him gently, feeling him throb in your hand and you roll back the foreskin. You have pleasured your husband like this countless times and he claims you are good at it, so hopefully you don’t disappoint the general. Leaning forward, you press your tongue flat against the tip and then curl it around the head as you take him into your mouth. The general has bathed, so he tastes clean and musky.

His fingers flex by his side as you take him into your mouth. He groans quietly but Caracalla shakes his head, "I want to hear how my empress is making you feel." He demands and Marcus nods, groaning louder when you take him deeper into your mouth. "Fuck." He curses, his hand finding your cheek as he looks down at you.

You hum at his rough praise, feeling the way his hips slightly rock, like he wants to take control and fuck your mouth. Taking him deeper, you moan when the first spurt of his salty seed hits your tongue, a little treat to tell you he is enjoying it.

His eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the feel of your mouth around his cock. He can tell you’re not as experienced as the whores he has had but you are enthusiastic and he fucking loves that. “Open your eyes, Acacius.” Caracalla orders, wanting to see the pleasure on the man’s face.

You take him deep right as he opens his eyes and they widen in shock as he chokes out a sound that goes straight to your cunt. Pleased that you can make a man as strong and fierce as the general choke on his own breath. You start to bob your head quickly, wanting to hear more and to see his face screw up in pleasure.

Marcus groans, his chin resting on his chest as he watches you take his cock. “Fuck.” He grunts as your hands rest on his thighs as you take his cock in your mouth. His stomach clenches and he moans, shaking his head. “I am - I’m going to- shit. Stop.” He pleads, his cock twitching in your mouth.

You are surprised that he is already about to cum, but maybe he has been without the pleasure of a woman for too long. You pull off his cock, panting yourself as you wipe your chin. Your cunt is dripping and you are eager to see if his cock scrubs against your walls the way you hope he does. Despite your initial reservations about having sex with someone else, you now find yourself looking forward to fucking this man

He is shocked how quickly you worked him up but perhaps it’s because this is not a whore he’s paid for. You are the most coveted woman in the empire, a prize to your husband, and you’re on your knees for him. Caracalla smirks at the look on the general’s face. He looks worked up and the emperor smirks, “you need to spill inside her. Uxor, lay down on the bed and spread your legs for the general. Let him see how wet you get sucking a cock.”

You shift to your feet and turn around. Your eyes slide to your husband and you see that he is turned on, his own cock tenting his tunic. Laying down, you spread your legs. Bending your knees you run your hands down to spread the lips of your sex for him to see. “Soaked.” You moan softly.

Marcus’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your wet cunt. You’re dripping and he loves it. He reaches down to squeeze his cock as he shuffles closer. Caracalla smirks at the look on the general’s face. “You can fuck her, Acacius. You have the emperor’s blessing. Fill her with your seed and create the next emperor of Rome.” He demands and Marcus shifts to kneel on the bed. His free hand slides up your thigh until he’s pushing two thick digits into your dripping cunt.

Your eyes flutter closed on a loud moan, feeling the way his fingers stretch you out. His hands are rough, the skin scraping so deliciously inside you and making your legs shift and shake around his hips. This man will be so different from the only other man you have had sex with, you know that instinctively and for a split second, you pray to the gods that it will take more than one time for him to successfully fill you with his seed. 

He pumps his fingers, loving how wet you are around them, and he groans when you squeeze his digits. He wants you to cum like this. His thumb against your clit, he curls his fingers while your emperor watches you. His fingers squeeze his cock through his tunic while Marcus strokes his cock with his fist.

Your body responds to the sure, deep pumps of his fingers into your cunt. “Gods.” You whimper, watching as his dark, intense eyes watch his fingers move inside you. Completely focused on making you feel blissful before he mounts you. You won’t say that your husband hasn’t pleasured you, but it’s always been a byproduct of his own, rather than his complete goal. “It feels so good. His fingers are magical.”

Caracalla smirks as he watches your back arch and you moan as Marcus pumps his fingers into you. The room is filled with a squelch as you take what he gives you. “That’s it, Empress.” He coos, pressing his thumb harder against your clit.

You pant out your first name. “Call me by my name when you are inside me.” You order breathlessly, wanting to hear him say your name. Turning your head, you look to your husband behind you, seeing that he is actually enjoying watching you like this. You know he has attended many orgies and probably watched many people have sex, but his eyes are alight with glee, watching this general touch you.

Marcus watches you as you take his fingers and groans at the way you are fluttering around his digits. He says your name as a demand, wanting you to fall apart for him before he fucks you full of his seed. Caracalla watches and smirks, his cock now pulled out so he can slowly jerk himself at the sight in front of him.

Whimpering quietly, your body starts to react. Toes curling and thighs shaking as your cunt clenches down around his thick fingers. “Marcus!” Your gasp of his name is loud, almost surprised as the intense pleasure rips through you, his fingers pressing against something wonderful inside you.

He groans, cock twitching in his hand as you soak his digits and Caracalla chuckles, “she loves your fingers, General.” Marcus smirks and works you through it, pulling his fingers out after you start to whine. “You want me to fuck you, Empress?” He asks, smirking as he jerks his cock against your pelvis.

You moan, nodding as you try to roll your hips down. He looks confident now, like the general you know he must be on the battlefield. “I do, General. Fuck me full.”

He nods, shifting to position his cock at your entrance, swiping it through your folds as he groans softly when he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push inside you with a soft groan of your name. You’re so tight and hot, his eyes flutter closed at the way you feel around him. 

He’s thick. Thicker than Caracalla, stretching you more than his fingers did and pulling a long, wanton moan from your chest. You are taking another man. Having his cock inside you and you hear your husband groan as he watches. He sounds almost envious, but you can only care about the way Marcus fills you right now. “Fuck.” You whine when his hips are flush and his cock is pushed deep and kissing your womb. “Your cock is made by the gods.” You praise breathlessly.

Marcus looks down at you, his chest heaving at the way you are taking his cock and he shifts to his forearms so he can hover over you. Your legs lift to wrap around his hips and his face hovers near yours. “You’re so tight.” He hisses and Caracalla smirks, “I told you. She’s like a virgin.” He declares as he squeezes his cock in his hand, working himself as Marcus starts to move inside you.

That first thrust is a sharp snap of his hips. Making you scream and your nails dig into his biceps. Marcus freezes, fearing that he had made an error, but your thighs tighten. “More, move general.” You demand, wanting to see if he can make you scream like that again.

He loves the way you command him, reminding him of your status. He relaxes now that he knows he didn’t hurt you and he rocks his hips, pushing deep into you. “Empress. Scream for me.” He growls, leaning in to kiss your neck since he doesn’t know if kissing is permissible. His hips rock forward as he pushes against your cervix.

You moan softly, knowing that he will make you scream if he moves like this inside you. “Kiss him.” Caracalla orders, giving permission and you quickly turn your head to press your lips to Marcus's as his head comes up. He rocks into you steadily, your fingers tracing over the scars on his back and side as he fucks you. Mapping the wars that he has fought and the times he has survived to experience this moment. “So deep.” You whimper. 

He is lost in the feel of your hot cunt around his cock. Your body takes everything he gives you. His hips slap against your ass and he shifts his weight onto one arm so he can grab your thigh, pushing it back towards your stomach as he sinks impossibly deeper into you. His tongue sliding against yours to swallow your moan.

You don’t even think about Caracalla, although you hear the sound of him stroking his cock. Too taken by the way that Marcus fucks you. He’s rougher, harder than your husband and his pace makes your walls flutter around his cock every time he drills into you. It’s so wicked, forbidden and the people of Rome would be horrified if they knew that their Empress was being fucked like a common whore, but you love it. 

He groans into your mouth as you grip his shoulders and he rocks harder into you, wanting to feel you cum around him. His hand slides up your thigh until he’s rubbing your clit. He may have had many whores but he’s always prided himself on ensuring they were pleasured too. “Empress.” He groans against your chin, “want you to cum for me.”

You whine into his mouth when he comes back to kiss you. Rocking up against his fingers as you try to get as close as possible to him. One hand slides down to his ass, feeling it flex as he pumps into you. “Yes. Yes.” You chant, eyes closed in bliss.

Marcus grunts as he grinds into you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster as he wants you to cum for him. He kisses along your neck and Caracalla is invisible to him as he focuses completely on you. “Cum for me.” He demands and you cry into his mouth as you fall apart for him.

It’s good, better than any pleasure Caracalla has ever given you but you can never admit that. Your body trembles under his as your walls spasm around him. Making him groan as you gasp out his name. “Marcus!” You feel how you soak his cock and the sounds it makes as he fucks you through it.

He loves the way you squeeze him and he hisses your name, rocking into you. He knows he should hold off, make you fall apart again but he is wound up by the circumstances. “Fill her up, Acacius.” Caracalla demands and Marcus buries his face in your neck as he thrusts a half dozen more times until he’s pushing deep and filling you up with hot spurts of cum.

The hot splash of his seed makes you whine, eyes closed as you feel him ride out his pleasure, cock pulsing inside you. He doesn’t pull out of you immediately and you enjoy his weight on top of you. He is heavier, broader than your husband and you like feeling like you are at his mercy. The sweat slick skin of his back slides under your fingers and you stroke it and you sigh in bliss.

Marcus shifts to take his weight off you and he swallows harshly. He hasn’t cum that hard since he was with his wife. He kisses your neck without Caracalla seeing it and your emperor stands, cock in his hand, to stand at the foot of the bed. “Pull out of her. I want to see your seed drip out of her.” He demands and Marcus shifts to pull out of you. He lays beside you and Caracalla stands there, eyes dark as he takes in the sight of your dripping cunt.

You can’t really tell what your husband is thinking, his eyes wide and slightly manic. He’s not upset, that much you can tell. “What do you think, maritus?” You ask softly.

He smirks, jerking his cock as he kneels on the bed. “I want to cover you in my seed.” He says as he watches you while you lay on the bed, chest heaving.

You don’t dare look over at Marcus, keeping your eyes on your husband as he starts to buck into his hand. You can tell he’s already close from the groans. “Cover me.” You urge him, spreading your thighs wider. “Coat me and we will pray to the gods that they will give you a strong child.”

Caracalla doesn’t hesitate as he starts to cover you. Hot drops of his seed hitting your skin and covering your cunt that is still creamy from Marcus’s cum. “That’s it. It’s - our warrior.” He groans as he works himself empty of every drop while Marcus relaxes beside you.

You reach down and swipe your fingers through his seed and bring it up to your mouth. He loves when you taste him and he finally milks the last drops out of his cock as you moan softly, licking your digits clean.

Caracalla smirks, “perfect. Fucking perfect. You will be with child before we know it.” He says as he looks over at Marcus, “I want you here to fill her up every day until she’s with child.” He demands, “you will remain here in our quarters. No one will question you because we have no guards inside.”

You are surprised by the Emperor’s order, but you don’t question it. “Will you be present every time, or do you want him to fill me as often as possible?” You ask, looking over at the general to see what he thinks.

Marcus knows he cannot say no. He nods and shifts to sit up on the bed. “I shall do as my emperor desires.” He promises and Caracalla smirks, “you’ll fill her up every single day until it takes.” He demands and Marcus bows his head. “I will let you two decide the times. I cannot afford to spend too much time here and I don’t want people to get suspicious.”

“Of course, maritus.” You shift to your knees and press your lips to your husband’s briefly and he huffs before pushing you back down to the bed. “You must lay there.” He tells you. “Lift your hips so his seed isn’t wasted.”

Marcus reaches for his tunic, suddenly feeling awkward as he redresses while you lay down and keep your hips tilted. He possibly just got the empress pregnant and no one can ever know. The senate would have him killed for his treason, Geta certainly would. Caracalla tucks himself away and strides over to clap Marcus on the back. “I’ll show you to your rooms and we will have your things brought to the palace.” Marcus nods, letting the emperor guide him through the halls until he’s in an ornate room. “You have one job now, General. Fuck my uxor and fill her until it takes.” Caracalla says, his eyes a little manic. Marcus nods and watches the emperor leave. He looks around and sighs, wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

You lay with your hips for an hour. Bored and replaying your encounter with Marcus as Caracalla’s cum dries on your skin. He’s a better lover than your husband and you are ashamed of it, but you are looking forward to having him in your bed again.

Marcus looks around the room, unsure of what to do or say as he comes to the realization that his dream of enjoying time alone in his villa is long gone. He’s under the thumb of the emperor now and he must do as he says otherwise he will face execution.

****

The next afternoon, you find Marcus on the balcony, appearing deep in thought. “I am not disturbing you, am I General?” You ask softly, waiting by the pillar for him to acknowledge you. You wonder what he thinks about this, about being commanded to fill you with his child.

Marcus turns to look at you, reminded of how beautiful you are as the sun shines on your face. “Good day, Empress. You’re not disturbing me.” He promises, “are you well?” He asks, wanting to make sure he hasn’t harmed you.

“I am.” You smile as you walk out onto the balcony and look at the gardens below. “Sore, in a very good way.” You assure him, glancing over at him before looking back out at the neatly manicured hedges and plants. “I hope that you do not feed trapped here.” You murmur softly. “I am sure you are used to doing what you wish when you wish it.”

Marcus looks down at the olive trees and sighs, his hands wringing together. “You and I both know we have no choice but to follow the orders of the Emperor. I did not imagine returning from war to engage in the breeding of the empress. You are a beautiful woman and if you were not the uxor of Caracalla, I would be thanking the gods for letting me be in your bed, but the circumstances are…unusual. As long as you have need of me, I’m at your service.” He assures you, “it is not a task to fuck you but I worry for the day the emperor changes his mind.”

“Caracalla cannot have anyone know about his bad seed.” You murmur quietly. “Especially not Geta. He will not change his mind, but…..” you look around and lower your voice. “I do not trust that he might get rid of you once I have given birth to a son.”

Marcus turns to look at you again, “I would not be surprised but I’d rather have that issue several moons from now instead of being killed for not following orders. It will not be a hard task to put a child in you but you must tell me if you do not wish to take me.” He insists, “I do not want to fuck an unwilling woman.”

You snort, turning to look out at the gardens so he doesn’t see your embarrassment. “He would have my tongue cut out for admitting this, but you are better.” You admit softly. “I spent an hour with my hips tilted towards the gods, replaying what you had just done to me, imagining it happening again and again.”

Marcus turns to look at you, eyebrows raised, and he cannot deny that his cock twitches while his chest puffs with pride. “Is that so? Do you wish for us to…repeat the event soon to ensure the next emperor of Rome? I must admit that I have had many women, most of them whores, but no one has made me cum as hard as you did.”

That makes you straighten, pleased by the notion that you can bring this general to his knees. Making his core quiver in pleasure despite your lack of experience with partners. You bite your lip and turn towards him. “Perhaps we should retire and make sure that we have enough energy for our next session?” You ask, your fingers sliding along the smooth marble edge of the balcony to touch his hand. “The emperor was most insistent that you fill me often. I believe that we should obey his orders.” 

Marcus smirks, seeing the eager look in your eyes, and he leans closer. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint the emperor. Shall we convene in your quarters or mine?” He asks, his eyes dropping down to your lips. You’re forbidden to everyone except Caracalla and now…him. It’s intoxicating especially when you tell him he’s better. Even if it’s just to float his ego. 

“Yours.” You decide, wondering if it will be acceptable to him. “Unless you need to leave again as soon as it’s done?” You ask, hoping that he would not want you to leave. You spend a lot of time by yourself and you are curious to hear about his campaigns and the places he has seen. 

He glances back over the gardens, “I am here to fulfill an order from the emperor and I wish to do it to the best of my ability. Let us retire to my quarters and you are welcome to remain as long as you please.” He promises and he wants to speak to you about your former kingdom, your father, and the army who took you from your home to deliver you to the Emperor.

Nodding, you feel that same odd sense of giddiness that had overcome you last night. A forbiddenness that has been temporarily allowed, even ordained by the gods. A taste of normalcy, where you can pretend that you are not an Empress. Nothing but a woman that this handsome, virile man wants. “Call me by my name.” You ask, almost as a plea. 

His eyes meet yours and he licks his lips as he says your name. He loves the smile you give him in return and his hand brushes yours, “lead the way, empress.” He demands, saying your name again when you narrow your eyes at him.

“Do you prefer to be called by your rank or your name?” You ask softly, turning away from the balcony and walking back inside with him towards his chamber.

“You can call me by my name.” He says, following you as you walk through the hallway to his newly assigned quarters. It’s more than anything he’s ever had before. Even in his beautiful villa. He follows you inside and shuts the door behind you, “you are exquisite.” He declares when you turn to look at him.

“Do you claim those words for every whore you fuck?” You ask curiously, tilting your head as you smile at him, showing him that you are teasing. “Or do you save that for the special ones?”

Marcus shakes his head, “there’s usually no words when I have a whore in my quarters. I like to speak with my actions. Not my words.” He confesses, stepping over to you. He reaches up to cup your cheeks, “you truly are Venus herself.” He murmurs, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours.

“You are handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “Strong, fierce. Like Apollo.” Your hands run up the soft white tunic he is wearing. “I thought so last night when you were inside me. Riding me hard and yet-“ your lips brush against his. “Your lips were tender.”

His cock twitches at the soft contact of your lips and he can’t help it. He grabs the back of your neck and drags you closer to him, tilting his head so he can press his lips to yours. You’re so soft against him, pliable as his other hand grips your waist.

He’s so dominant, in control. You can tell this is a man who is used to being in charge, taking what he needs to take. You don’t resist, pressing yourself against his hard body, letting the kiss deepen as you open your mouth and let out a soft moan.

His tongue slides against yours and he groans you relinquish power to him. You’re so eager to please. He wants to taste you though, all of you. His mouth pulls away from yours so he can kiss along your jaw down to your neck, and he starts walking you backwards towards his bed.

You let him guide you, willing to do whatever he wants. Although it’s easy to see that he wants your dress off when his fingers reach for the ornate pin on your shoulder that keeps the material up. You wonder if it will be different this time since Caracalla isn’t watching.

He pulls on the pin and your robes fall to the marbled floor, exposing you to the cool breeze and he pushes you back onto the bed, loving the way your tits bounce as you fall backwards. He wants to taste you so he grabs your waist, lifting you higher up the bed, and he pushes your thighs apart, wasting no time before he dives in to slide his tongue through your folds.

You gasp in surprise, eyes widening as you lurch up. It’s not that you’ve never had this kind of attention, but that it’s rare. Caracalla prefers to have your mouth on him. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you moan loudly when he flicks his tongue over your clit.

He groans at the tangy taste of your arousal. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes them apart so he can slide his tongue against your clit. “Fuck.” He curses when he pulls back for a moment, spreading you with his thumbs so he can suck your clit into his mouth.

You whine his name, closing your eyes. “Marcus.” Your hips roll up until he throws one arm over your waist to pin you down. Holding you in place while he does wonderful things to your cunt with his tongue.

He laps at your cunt, wanting to hear you fall apart for him. There’s no rush for this. Caracalla isn’t watching and you are alone with the general. He approaches your cunt like a battlefield, using the best method to make you fall apart for him. He laps at your clit, his fingers digging into your thigh as he pushes it towards your stomach with a groan.

You pull your thighs back like he wants, reaching down and holding them so he can lick as deep as he wants into you. Moaning out his name again as he continues to feast on your cunt like a man who has been given his last meal besides an execution.

He groans into your flesh, loving the way you open yourself up for him, and he slides his tongue as deep as he can go, loving the tang of your arousal and the way you moan his name.

He groans in your flesh, vibrating it deep into your core and it makes you clench around his tongue. Pushing your hips down against his face, you want to grind into it. To ride his tongue. You’ve heard of such things, witnessed some of the orgies when you had been spying on your husband’s parties after you had been sent off to bed. “Marcus, oh fuck. I- it’s so good.”

He loves hearing your cry of pleasure and his nose presses against your clit. His hand on your hips slides up to squeeze your breast, wanting you to cry out his name again. At this moment, he doesn’t care about anyone hearing your cries even though the Emperor wants this to be your dirty secret. He groans and pinches your nipple, wanting you to fall apart again.

You shiver, your legs tremble as you climb closer to your peak. Feeling your body start to buck again as he pinches your nipple again. “Cum for me and I’ll fuck you.” He rasps out, pulling away from your cunt long enough to order you to cum before he dives back into it. Throwing you over the edge with another swipe of his tongue, your cunt starts to gush in pleasure as you clench around nothing.

He laps up every drop you offer. Like elixir, he greedily sucks at your folds and your clit, working you through your orgasm as his fingers grip your body to keep you in place until you push his head away, overstimulated. He’s aching, hard and pressing into the bed.

“Gods.” You pant, pushing to your elbows and looking down at him. “You are good at that.” You reach down and grab his shoulder to drag him up. “Kiss me.” You beg, not caring that your juices are on his mouth. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

He cannot deny you anything. Shifting onto his knees, his cock tenting his tunic as he leans down to press his lips to yours. He shifts his weight to push against you and he hisses when you reach for the hem of his tunic to pull it over his head, breaking the kiss.

“You are gorgeous.” You whisper, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. “Do you like to fuck away the heat of battle when you come back to your tent?” You ask curiously. “Do you prefer a softer touch then to counteract the violence of earlier?”

He groans, looking down at your soft hand around his cock, “it depends. Mostly it’s rough, fuck away the adrenaline.” He says and leans in to kiss along your jaw as he holds his weight over you. “Gods, you are - let me inside you.” He pleads, needing to feel your hot cunt again.

You spread your thighs wider, lifting a leg to hook onto the side of his hip. “Fuck me.” You order him, surprised that he had even asked permission.

You release his cock and he grips himself, pumping his length a few times, squeezing as he positions himself at your dripping entrance. He slowly pushes into you, wanting to feel how hot and wet you are as he gives you inch after inch of his cock.

It’s slower than last night. As if he is savoring every inch as he pushes inside you. You don’t rush him, enjoying the way his cock scrubs against your walls slowly, breaking you open and making your cunt fit him inside. Holding onto his shoulders, you encourage him with your sounds, moaning in pleasure and caressing his skin as he pauses halfway inside you.

He surges forward to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he pushes the rest of the way inside you. His cock twitches once he presses against your cervix, groaning at how you’re gripping him. His hand caresses your side as he slides his hand up to your breast.

His grip on your flesh is possessive, sure. Taking more liberties now that your husband is not directing his movements. “I’m yours now.” You murmur softly in encouragement. “Touch me. Explore me. Use me how you want.”

He knows you’re not his, can never be his, but you are in this moment, and he’s greedy. He groans, kissing along your neck, and he ducks his head down to take your nipple into his mouth. He bites down, sucking on the hardened nub, and he loves how you cry out at his touch.

You love your breasts being played with. Caracalla has a feeding obsession, wishing that you produced milk, but hopefully soon you will be able to. You wonder if Marcus would want to taste milk from your breasts.

He groans at the way your hand tangles in his hair and he starts to move inside you. “Fuck. You feel so good.” He murmurs against your sternum, turning his head to take your other nipple into his mouth.

You whimper his name, letting him rock you closer to pleasure as he suckles at your breast. “Fuck, you- I can’t describe it.” You admit breathlessly. “You are like a god.”

He chuckles, his breath washing over you, and he grabs your thigh, “you’re a goddess. Fucking - fuck. You’re Venus. I am merely here to worship you.” He declares, his voice is raspy.

It’s intimate, so intimate that it makes your eyes wet with yearning. He feels like he is speaking to your soul, even if it is just the moment. You aren’t used to such soft words and you turn your head to press kisses to his broad shoulder, not wanting him to see you choked up.

He shouldn’t feel like this, like this is right where he should be. You belong to Caracalla and he should still mourn his wife, but the way you take his cock has him groaning your name into your neck as he tries to conceal the way you’re making him feel.

Your body responds to him so easily, making every roll of his hips push you higher. The pants and moans grow steadier every time he pushes deep and the inhale of anticipation when he draws back. The rhythm is one that neither one of you questions, each pushing towards pleasure together. “Fuck.”

He wants you to cum for him, needs to hear and feel it. He grabs your other thigh, pushing it back towards your stomach so you are folded over. He groans your name, kissing along your jaw to press his lips to yours. He slides his tongue into your mouth and drops his hips to grind his pelvis against yours.

Your moan is sealed into your mouth with his lips, or maybe it’s absorbed by him. All you know is that your nails dig into his shoulders as he works himself deep into your cunt. Pressing harder and harder with every roll of his hips. “Oh gods!”

Your cry into his mouth makes him smile against your chin, rocking into you a little faster as you clamp down on his cock. His pelvis and balls are soaked with your release and he hisses when you squeeze him like a vice. “Fuck.” He grunts, eyes closing as he works you through it. He pulls out when you relax beneath him and he rolls over, your body on top of his. “Ride me, empress. I want you to take another wave of pleasure from my body.” He demands, smacking your ass.

Eyes wide, you sit up, your hands on his chest. “I’ve never- never been in charge before.” You admit, even though you would love to do such a thing. “I- help me?” You ask, grinding down on his length and wanting him inside you again.

He suppresses his chuckle at your wide, uncertain eyes, but he loves how you look on top of him and the fact that you haven’t done this before. He reaches down to grip his cock, telling you to lift up. You shift to lift up and he positions his cock so you can sink back down onto him. “Rock your hips.” He commands, wanting to help you ride him.

He feels different from this angle. Bigger. His cock pressing against different parts of your walls and you gasp in pleasure when you roll back down on him. “Gods.” Your eyes close and you lean back, enjoying the way his cock stretches you this way. “You feel even bigger. Like you are right here.” Your hand covers your stomach. “You are in my womb.”

“I will be. I will fill you until it takes.” He promises, his hands gripping your hips. He helps you start to rock and you moan, your mouth falling open and he loves the way your tits bounce as you start to get a rhythm together.

It’s so different, being in charge. If you slow down or grind down harder, Marcus groans and twitches inside you. Like he’s enjoying you using him. Your body moves eagerly, loving the sounds he makes as he digs his fingers into your hips. “Gods, your cock is made for my cunt.”

“That’s it, empress. Take what you want from me. Use me.” He demands, his hand slapping your ass while the other grips your waist. He watches you take your pleasure and he loves the way your chest heaves when you get the angle just right.

You squeal when he slaps your ass again, clenching down around him. He is so commanding, even when he is under you and yet he lets you control him. If you pulled off his cock right now, you know he would let you. It’s freedom, and you’re breathless when you collapse onto his chest to press your lips to his.

He groans, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you close, his tongue sliding against yours. He loves the way you rock back onto him and he wants you to make yourself cum. He needs you to cum again for him.

You lean into the kiss. Continuing to work yourself on his cock. Whining softly when your cunt starts to pulse until you are locking down around him with a cry into his mouth.

He groans when you cum for him again, soaking him, and he wraps his arms around you. He hisses your name and starts to thrust up into you. He can’t hold off any longer as he works himself towards your orgasm. He pushes deep into you, his cock twitching inside you as he starts to paint your walls with his cum.

You turn and press kisses to his jawline and moans softly. “That feels so good.” You murmur, resting your head against his shoulder and feel him riding out his high.

He pants as he closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He’s never felt like this before. Like his soul is leaving his body. He caresses your spine, fingers lazily trailing along your skin as he breathes you in.

“Can I stay like this?” You ask softly, content to lay just like you are if he will let you. You reason that having his cock still stuffed inside you is even better than tilting your hips up. “Am I too heavy?”

He shakes his head, “no, not too heavy. You can stay like this.” He says softly, closing his eyes as he enjoys the weight of you on top of him. He feels tired, his eyes still closed as his cock softens inside you.

You don’t realize you fell asleep until you wake up. Still on top of him with his arms secured around you. Holding you in place as he breathes softly underneath you. He’s still sleeping, making you softly turn your head up and watch him. He’s beautiful when he sleeps and you hope that the child you have looks like him.

Marcus wakes up when he feels your stare and he offers you a soft smile, “wore me out.” His chuckles vibrate through you and he sighs, glancing over at the balcony to see the sun is setting. “The Emperor will be wanting your presence.” He says softly, “we must clean up and I’ll leave you to your peace.”

“The emperor is attending a feast tonight.” You hum, knowing that you should probably keep your distance from the general when you are not letting him fill you. “I will be presented and then expected to leave before the festivities begin.” You snort. “There will be an orgy.”

Marcus snorts, “I never understood the appeal.” He confesses, “I like connection. Even with the whores I bedded, I felt connected to them even if only for the night.” He admits before he bites his lip, “do you like your life here or do you miss your home?”

“I miss home.” You want to hope that he will not tell the emperor. He doesn’t like when you admit somewhere else might be better than Rome. “I don’t have many people who will talk to me. Or spend time with me. I’m lonely.” You sigh. “Only to be seen and to bear the emperor's children.” Your father had sent you to marry the younger brother in order to preserve peace for your realm.

Marcus sighs, “I’m sure you do. I miss my village. When I was a boy, my father was killed in war and my mother struggled to survive, to feed us. As soon as I was able, I left to join the army. I wanted to send coin back to my mother but by the time I returned home, she was dead.” He murmurs, brow furrowed because he hasn’t thought about this for so long. “I threw myself into the fight until I met my wife. She was the daughter of a noble and I never imagined I’d be able to ask for her hand, so I fought hard to rise in the ranks until I could ask her father for his blessing. When we married, I was so happy, and she became with child. Then the day of our son’s birth…she died. So did he.” He’s lost in the agony of the memory, swallowing harshly as he tightens his grip on you.

You sigh softly and reach up to caress his cheek. Even though their deaths weren’t recent, you can see the despair on his face. “My prayers to the gods that they are peaceful together in death.” You murmur softly. “You gave yourself to the army and to Rome after that.” You know what it feels like to have nothing to live for, you feel like a prisoner with a decorative chain around your neck. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a kiss meant to comfort.

He sighs into the kiss, cupping your cheek as he kisses you softly. “And now I give myself to her Empress.” He murmurs, “I shall fetch us some wine.” He says and you nod, shifting off him and he moves off the bed so he can get you a cup of wine.

He moves easily in his own skin, unashamed by his nudity and the body he possesses. He is not as firm as he might have been in his youth, but there is a leanness to him still that makes the broadness of his shoulders and bulk of his muscles incredibly appealing. There is a strength in his frame that Caracalla could never possess. “Do you mind?” You ask softly. “Knowing that your child will be claimed by Rome?”

He pours the wine as he contemplates his answer, “I have no choice. Even if it is not my wish, I cannot say no. As for the child…I am a general. I will die in battle and I would wish for my child to be taken care of. I know this child will be taken care of to the fullest extent.” He confesses, “I can die in peace.”

It’s wise, pragmatic even, but you still feel a sudden wave of sadness thinking about this man falling in battle. “Then I must learn all I can about you.” You murmur softly, smiling when he walks back over and hands the cup to you. “So I can tell him stories about a man that he should admire.”

Marcus offers you a soft smile, appreciating you wanting to tell your child about him. “He can never know that Caracalla is not his father.” Marcus reminds you, “he must be the rightful heir. But if you wish to tell him about your friend, I am willing to share myself with you.” He offers, “but you must tell me more about his mother,”

“That sounds fair.” You smile and take a sip of the wine as you lounge in his bed, completely nude. This is the most relaxed you have been since you have been sent to Rome and you know it is because of him, “I will tell you everything.” You promise.

****

Marcus groans as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him again as sweat glistens on his skin. He grunts, jaw clenched as he rocks into you from behind, his hips hitting your ass so the only noise in the room is slapping skin. He's been fucking you for two months now, spending nearly every night in your bed. Caracalla has entertained himself with his whores and orgies, leaving Marcus to make you scream his name every night.

You collapse down to your elbows, face on the cool sheets as he fucks you through the spasms of pleasure. “Amor, cum for me.” You beg, losing yourself to the moment and slipping up. Calling him an endearment you have kept inside you for weeks now. You spend all day, everyday with Marcus. Falling in love with the general and wishing that you were free to be with him. You feel as if he cares for you, but that just might be the sex that he enjoys.

Your words send him over the edge and he pushes deep as he cums, painting your walls for the umpteenth time. You missed your bleed last month but no one announced a pregnancy, wanting to be sure that you are with child. Marcus is reluctant to have it declared, knowing that his duty will be done and he will be sent away back to his villa, away from you. You are unlike any woman he's ever known. Strong, smart, beautiful, and you are lonely. He senses how isolated you are so he has spent a lot of time with you, discussing his battles, your battles - different in their methods but no less weary - and he has fallen for you. You are not his though, you belong to Caracalla and if he even dared to think about you being his, he would be killed.

Whining in pleasure as he fills you, your legs slide out from under you. Bringing you down to the bed and knowing that he will follow you. You love how close the two of you are, how he loves to touch you and keep touching you. You catch your breath and start to giggle softly, feeling him twitch when your walls clench around him in the aftershocks. “I love how you feel inside me.” You hum, lazy now that your body has been used and satisfied equally.

Marcus follows you, keeping his weight off of you just in case you are with child, and he kisses along your back. “You take me so well.” He murmurs, resting his forehead on your lower neck as he hovers over you. “Do you think…do you think you are with child?”

“I should not say this, but I hope I am not.” You sigh softly. “I have become accustomed to you in my bed and between my thighs. I do not want to give such a pleasure up.”

Marcus pulls out of you and shifts to lay down beside you, “perhaps…perhaps we can continue this. Ask the Emperor if he will allow us to copulate until the babe is born. He may allow us to continue in each other’s company, saying it’s to ensure the baby’s health.” He ponders, reaching out to cup your cheek, “I do not wish to give you up just yet.”

“I do not want to give you up either.” You confess softly, leaning into his touch. “You have become important to me. I….care for you.” It’s dangerous to admit, but you have to tell him that much at least. “I will ask the emperor to continue spending time with you.” You promise.

Marcus knows the request could be easily denied but he wants to continue spending time with you. He nods, shifting to pull you into his chest, burying his nose in your neck. He's gotten lazy, not wanting to train when he could be spending time with you.

****

“Congratulations, empress.” The Hippocrates you had called to the suite beams at you as he packs away his tools and tinctures. “The emperor will be pleased and the empire will drink to the health of your child.” You cover your womb protectively and wonder how Caracalla will take the news. Even though he had demanded this, he could always have a different view now that it is done. “Thank you.”

Caracalla is beaming when you tell him the news, pleased that his plan has worked and he can tell his brother that his child will be the next in line. “If it’s a son.” Geta hums and Caracalla nods, “it will be. A strong boy.” He celebrates by holding a party and you are alone, needing “to rest and protect the baby” in your quarters when Marcus enters, his brow furrowed. “What is the occasion for the orgy?” He asks, not having heard the news yet as he was training with his men all day.

When Marcus comes in, you rush over to him, flinging yourself into his arms and pressing your lips to his. Now truly able to celebrate the baby since his father has come home. “I am carrying your child.” You whisper softly, “your child. Not Caracalla’s.” You bite your lip and reach down to cover your womb. “I do not feel as if this child is his. It belongs to the man I love.”

Marcus’s eyes widen at the news and he pulls back to look down at your hand on your stomach. “Our child.” He murmurs in awe, unable to believe it’s happened despite him spending every night in your bed. He grabs the back of your neck, dragging you to his lips, and he pulls back after several moments to declare “I love you.”

You close your eyes in relief, letting out a small sob. “I love you too, Marcus.” You whisper softly. “In another life, we would be together.” You hate that you are the empress, that you are Caracalla’s wife and not his. “I wish we could change our fate.”

Marcus nods, “me too.” He cups your cheeks and sighs, “I love you, amor.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead, “for now, let us enjoy our time together before I am sent away. Let me worship the mother of my child.” He declares, shifting to kneel down in front of you.

“I will talk to the emperor.” You hadn’t had a chance to talk with him in private before he was rushing off to plan a feast and orgy to celebrate ‘his’ virility. Reaching down, you run your fingers through his dark curls and pray to the gods your babe has those same locks.

Marcus lifts your tunic, exposing your body to his hungry gaze, and he leans in to kiss your lower stomach as you bunch your tunic up under your breasts. His hands caress the back of your legs as he kisses down to your mound, burying his nose in the curls at the apex of your thighs. “Want to taste you.” He murmurs against your skin, shifting so he can slide his tongue through your folds.

Marcus is very talented with his tongue. He has proven that over the past months and you moan in pleasure. He lifts a leg onto his shoulder and you feel so exposed. Like a god being serviced by a mere mortal. He makes everything good. “Marcus.” You pant, closing your eyes briefly before you look down at him on his knees. Wanting to memorize this moment in fear that you might not have it again.

He groans at the tangy taste of your arousal, sliding his tongue through your folds and lapping at your clit like he’s worshiping Venus. He wants to savor every second of being with you before he’s sent away. It could be any second Caracalla decides his job is complete and sends him back to his villa.

His hands hold you in place, keeping you upright while he takes his time to lick through your folds and making you moan his name loudly.

He squeezes your ass just as the doors open and Caracalla strides in, dressed in his robes and taking a moment from the party. “Ah, Acacius. You are taking care of the Empress. Well done on ensuring I have an heir.” Caracalla watches as Marcus doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at you. “I heard that fucking during pregnancy ensures a boy. I want a son. You will remain here in the palace to make sure I have an heir.” He declares, his cock twitching at the way you moan and Marcus sucks on your clit.

Your eyes find your husband, his face filled with pride and lust. “Yes.” You agree quickly, since it’s exactly what you want. “You need a son, my emperor.” You moan. “He will keep filling me, making sure you get what you need. A strong son.” You bite your lip. “He has served his emperor well and will continue to do so.”

Marcus loves your praise, continuing to ignore Caracalla’s presence as he works you towards your orgasm. He wants to be greedy, to have you like this for as long as he can before he has to leave you. “Keep pleasuring her, Acacius.” Caracalla orders and spins in his heel, wanting to enjoy his evening at the party celebrating his heir. “Keep her cumming.” He shouts back before he shuts the door and leaves you and Marcus together.

You push his head away as soon as the door slams shut and you drop to your knees. Needing to kiss Marcus now that you know that he’s not going to be sent away.

Marcus whines into your mouth in protest but he can't deny you. He cups your cheek and deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his other hand grabs your ass to pull you against him, his cock hard under his tunic.

You kiss deeply, thoroughly. Panting into his mouth and gasping for air when you break apart. “I love you.” You moan. “I need you inside me. Here, now.”

He grabs your thighs, lifting you so you are hovering over him as he kneels on the floor. "Take my cock and put me inside you." He demands, holding your weight over his body.

You fumble with his tunic, reaching underneath and pumping his cock before you line him up with your cunt. Moaning when he slowly lowers you down on him. “Fuck, amor.” You whimper, feeling him like it’s the first time all over again. You feel like you’re more sensitive but it just might be from the emotional turmoil.

Marcus inhales deeply when you sink down on him, engulfing him in your wet, hot cunt. "Fuck." He pants against your jaw as you grip his shoulders when he's fully inside you. "I love you." He murmurs against your skin, wanting you to know how he feels.

Your arms are around his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair as he holds you up in his thighs. “I love you.” You promise him, knowing that even if your body belongs to Caracalla, your heart belongs to him. “You are my one love. Forever.”

“Fuck. I love you. Never thought - never imagined I could ever feel like this again. Fuck, I want you to - to take all of me and cum again.” He demands, starting to work you on his cock.

You moan in agreement, letting him take charge and control your pleasure. He’s so good at it. There’s only been a handful of times you’ve not cum on his cock and that was only because he was so worked up he came too quickly. However he had made sure he had pleasured you with his fingers and tongue afterwards.

He rocks you on his cock, wanting you to soak his cock again, and he grips your thighs. “Fuck, te amo, amor.” He rasps, leaning in to press his lips to your neck, tasting the sweat and salt of your skin.

Your eyes water and you wish for a split second that Caracalla was dead and you could celebrate your love. Holding him close, your walls are already trembling around his cock as he rocks up into you. “Yes.” You moan, loving when he uses his mother’s tongue.

He is lost in the feel of you, his cock twitching inside you as he rocks into you. He imagines for a brief moment, a life where he can be with you. A life together with your child. It's not possible though. The Emperor would have him killed, could still have him killed, and it's a dangerous game that Marcus has gotten involved in.

Your toes push off on marble floors, helping you bounce on his cock and you could stay just like this with him forever. You want to stay like this. “I love you. You are my love, my amor.” You moan in his ear. “I would be Marcus Acacius’s wife.”

Your words are treason but they make his cock twitch inside you, closer to his orgasm. He groans your name, pressing his lips to yours as he rocks a little faster, needing to feel you clamp down on his cock. “You’d be mine. I’d die for you.” He promises, “mine. Mine. Mine.” He growls against your lips.

You both are vowing things to each other that would have you both killed, but you don’t care. His next thrust pushes you over the edge and you cry out into his mouth as your walls soak him in hot waves of your pleasure.

His hand finds your ass, rocking you as you shudder through your orgasm, and he groans, thrusting a few more times before he falls apart. “Fuck. Fuck. Empress.” He pants, cock throbbing as he paints your walls, his hands squeezing you closer to him.

You cling to him, both relieved that he is going to stay beside you for the foreseeable future and desperate to never have him leave you at all. “You are perfect.” You kiss his neck gently, stroking his back over his tunic that he couldn’t be bothered to take off. Both of you are still dressed, but the moment had been perfect regardless.

He snorts, knowing he’s not perfect, but he wants you and he is going to protect you and the baby until his last breath. Caracalla wants him to stay and that is the best thing he can wish for right now. “Let’s get you cleaned up and settled. You need to rest for the baby.” He reminds you and helps you shift off his cock.

Grinning, you look down at him as he climbs to his feet. “You are going to be overprotective from now on?” You ask, already aware of the answer. He will be protective, he will take care of you. You are already in love with the baby in your belly and you feel like he is the same way.

****

"Fuck, amor." Marcus groans as you rock on top of him. Your bump pressing against his stomach as he rests his back on the wall while you ride his cock. Your knees dig into the bed beneath and his hands cup your sensitive breasts. He's been in your bedchamber for the past six months and he falls more in love with you with each passing day. It will surely kill him to leave you when he is ordered to return to war, but he will go. You can never be his. Caracalla will never permit a divorce and he will be killed for treason. He must go after the babe is born.

Caracalla hadn’t spent more than an hour a week with you, carousing and spending every night having an orgy. He claims he is excited for his child, but he only brings you out to brag about his soon to be born son before he leaves you in Marcus’s care. You are scared, because you know how precarious a position you are in. But you can only survive.

"That's it. Take what you want from me. It's yours. I'm yours." He vows, his dark eyes watching you as you bounce on his cock. Your belly is round and heavy with his child. It's something he never imagined having again after he lost his wife. He's addicted to you and he doesn't know how he's going to leave after the baby is born.

“Marcus.” You moan, leaning back and knowing that he will make sure you are comfortable and safe. “My general, my warrior.” You have been thinking about something dangerous, but you can’t think about it when he’s deep inside you. “I love you.”

He caresses your hips, leaning in to take a sensitive nipple between his lips, and he suckles lightly. He has gotten too comfortable being away from the battles the Emperors send him into, but right now, he doesn’t want to die like that. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you at this moment, no one else but you and him. His hand slides across your hip to find your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to push you over the edge.

Carrying his baby has made you so sensitive to his touch that it only takes a few strokes of his thumb before you cry out. Your body shaking and your hips grinding down while your cunt locks down around his cock and your juices coat him.

He hisses your name as you clamp down around him, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments as he lets you ride your high, until he’s squeezing your hips and thrusting up into you.

“Cum for me.” You beg softly, burying your face into the side of his neck so you can breathe him in. “I want to feel you inside me. Carry you with me even more.”

He groans, rocking up into you with a hiss as he gets closer to his orgasm. “Fuck. Gonna - fuck. Shit. Empress.” He moans your name as he pushes deep inside your pulsing cunt and he falls apart, painting your walls with his seed as he clenches his eyes shut.

You hum quietly, stroking his neck as he catches his breath. Feeling the baby move slightly and biting your lip. “We need to use your favor in the Senate.” You lean close and whisper the treasonous words into his ear. “Stage a coup. Revolt.” You pull back and look into his eyes seriously. “Kill the emperors.”

Marcus inhales sharply, his head turning so he can look into your eyes to see if you are testing him or if you’re serious. When he sees your eyes, he knows you’re serious and he swallows harshly, “it won’t be easy. Trying to convince the senate without the emperors finding out.” He admits quietly, “and they could find out and kill me.”

“Set the meetings.” You had thought long and hard about it. “I will convince them, I will do the talking. If our plot is found out, Caracalla could not immediately put me to death. Geta would discover the child is not truly his and he will never allow that.” You caress his cheek. “I wish to have you installed to rule as proctor for ‘his’ child.” You know the senate could never find out that the child isn’t Caracalla’s but no one but you and Marcus know this truth besides your husband.

Marcus caresses your spine, knowing that you could risk everything you’ve created, your life, your child, it’s all on the line. “Amor…” He murmurs and you cup his cheek, “I will never be allowed to be my own person. I will never be allowed to love you freely unless you do this.” You tell him and he nods, swallowing harshly, “I’ll get it organized.” He promises, “we will see it done.”

“Thank you, my love.” You lean in and press your lips to his. “I fear for our child raised under Caracalla’s direction.” Even if you are the mother, the fact that the baby would be proclaimed the emperor’s heir would mean he would be guided by your childish and evil husband. “I want him to grow up to be like his father.”

Marcus caresses your cheek, knowing there is no choice. If he looks back, he knows that he had to make this choice at some point. He never truly wanted to let you or his child go. The next morning, he dresses for court and decides to start with the hardest senator to convince, Brutus. A man who struggled to watch the Emperors rule but had loyalty to Rome. Marcus approaches him under the guise of talk of war, and Brutus nods, wandering off into a quiet corner of the senate to speak. “I fear we cannot speak in these quarters. Come to my villa, we can speak freely.” Marcus says and Brutus nods, unaware that you will be meeting with the men.

You pace, nervous about what you should say, would say. This is the most dangerous undertaking you have ever attempted. Not even trying to run away from your fate was as dangerous as this. You are trying to change your fate. The senators could be allies, or they could stab you in the back.

Brutus enters the room with Marcus, his head held high but his eyes widen when he sees the Empress standing there, her bump protruding beneath her tunic. “Empress.” He greets you, bowing his head.

“Brutus.” You greet him cautiously, but with a gracious smile on your face as you rub the swell of your stomach, bringing his eyes down to the baby. You will leverage the child in your womb. For your freedom, and perhaps Rome’s as well. “I trust you are well?” You ask kindly. “Please sit. The wine has been especially good lately.” It’s been watered down for your use, but you nod to Marcus to pour the senator a cup. “I hope you do not mind the subterfuge, I needed to speak with you and did not wish to summon you myself.”

Marcus pours the cup of wine and hands it to Brutus who nods, thanking Marcus, before his attention turns back to you. "I trust you are well, that the future Emperor is well?" He asks, and you nod in response, "he is lively. Due any day now." You declare and Marcus clears his throat, "the heir is the reason why we called you here.”

You wait for Brutus to turn back to you curiously, setting his cup down. You take a deep breath and caress your stomach. “It is no secret that unrest in Rome is at an all time high.” You murmur softly. “People are starving and while General Acacious has not been sent off on another expensive and bloody campaign, he will be soon.” You pause and sigh. “I fear for the future of Rome, of my son’s legacy that he will inherit.”

Brutus looks at Marcus who stands there, spine straight and steely eyed as your treasonous words are aired. Brutus could go tell the Emperors and you would be killed as soon as the babe is born, Marcus would be hanged the next day. However, Brutus doesn't run off. He nods, setting his cup down, "it is true that the empire is on a precipice. It could be the fall of Rome or her glory continues. The Emperors are driven by lust and greed. Their actions are selfish and make the lowest Roman anxious for change. We will fall if we allow the Emperors to continue down this path."

“There is another solution.” You suggest, rubbing your stomach again. “In my belly lies the next emperor of Rome. Ready to be guided by wise and cautious men.” Your eyes slide over to Marcus briefly. “Men who know the true cost of war and would be able to teach our emperor those lessons without it harming Rome’s people.” You look back at Brutus. “Men such as our senators, you, nurturing a leader that will take Rome to an even greater height.”

Brutus frowns, looking over at Marcus, knowing that the man who will assist in raising the young Emperor will be him. "And how would we remove our problem?" Brutus asks, eyebrows raised. 

"I say we speak to the senators...establish a coup. My husband and brother-in-law would never see it coming." You say and Brutus takes a gulp of his wine before he says, "I will start speaking to the senators tomorrow."

“I hope that we can count on your discretion.” You add, pushing out of your seat and moving over to the senator. “We are on the cusp of change.” You murmur softly. “If it is the ruin of Rome or the brightness of her future, I leave that to your hands.”

Brutus nods, "if this gets out, it will be death for us all. We won't risk it." The senator promises and he looks over at Marcus, "you shall be the one who the senate turns to?" He asks and Marcus nods, making Brutus smile. "very well. I will do what needs to be done."

You nod to the senator when he leaves, Marcus walking out with him and you start to pace. Wondering if you have just signed your death papers or if you will be successful.

****

The senate is abuzz with chatter until Caracalla and Geta enter the chamber. The senators stand straighter and Marcus stands there, dressed in his official robes with the golden laurel wreath shining. He looks regal and the Emperors slosh wine across the marble floor as they greet the senators with wide grins. Brutus looks over at his fellow senators, his hand resting on his dagger. "Emperors." He greets them, walking towards them, and his eyes meet Marcus's for a moment. "The senate and I have been in discussions about the future of Rome." He declares and Geta hums, "and what a wonderful future it will be." 

Marcus sighs, "we aren't so sure. Romans are starving, you tax them more and more every day to fund your wars and your lavish lifestyle." Marcus declares and Caracalla spins around, his eyes narrowed at the accusations, "you dare to spit these treasonous words?" He demands and Marcus shakes his head, "you are draining Rome dry. Her empire will be no more." He says louder and the senators nod while Brutus steps forward, "your leadership has driven Rome to the edge and we want to save our empire before it falls." Brutus declares and he steps up behind Geta while Marcus moves towards Caracalla. It happens in a flash, the daggers pulled out and embedded in the lower backs of the Emperors who cry out, cups of wine falling to the floor. The other senators rush forward, daggers in their hands as they each take a turn stabbing the emperors until blood runs along the marbled floors.

Your cry from your chamber is loud and pained, servants rushing and whispering through the halls. The Hippocrates has been summoned and the labor seems to be quick. The new heir to the throne of Rome is insistent on being born today. It takes your mind off of your worries. Your waters had broken almost as soon as Marcus had left to join the senators. You know that they had planned to kill your husband and his brother today, but the pains had taken over all thoughts so you had not been able to fret over the hours as they passed. 

Blood covers the floor of the senate as Caracalla and Geta lay dead, blood pouring from their mouths. It turns out they betrayed a lot of senators, made promises they couldn’t keep. The senators didn’t take a lot of convincing to remove them from power. “It is done.” Brutus declares, “a new emperor shall be born any moment but we need someone in the interim. An emperor who will represent us, save Rome and her people from ruin. I nominate General Marcus Acacius.” Brutus declares and Marcus’s eyes widen. He didn’t expect to be nominated, feeling that Brutus would want to take control. “I second that nomination.” Drusus announces and one by one, the senate declares Marcus to be the next emperor. The General is speechless, knowing he could easily be taken down like Caracalla and Geta, but this means he gets to have you. “I accept. I will serve as Emperor for all, we will make Rome prosperous and safe.” He promises as a servant rushes in to announce, “the empress is in labor.” Marcus’s eyes widen and he rushes from the senate, running through the marbled halls in his mission to get to you. He doesn’t care that men shouldn’t be in the birthing room as he pushes through and stumbles to your bedside. “Amor. I’m here, I’m here.” He promises, blood still on his hands as he reaches for yours.

“Is it done?” You gasp out, scared for a brief moment that Marcus had been injured, but he would not have been able to come to your side if the plot had been foiled. “It is.” He murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. You don’t even care that the servants can see, that the rumors will spread across Rome of your relationship with the General. He ignores the Hippocrates’s complaints about him being there as another pain rips through you and you scream, fingers crushing his own hand until the pain passes and you are panting for air. Your child is safe. Boy or girl, they will be free of your husband’s influence. “We need-” you gasp. “A ruler until the baby is older.” 

"The senate has voted. They have chosen me to be Emperor until the child is old enough." He confesses, "I did not want to become Emperor but I want to save Rome and her people from destitution." He admits just as another pain causes you to grip his hand.

Your hiss is low and almost animalistic, the pains feeling like you are being ripped in two, but you know that it is natural. Surprised that the senate had voted for Marcus, you can’t help but be pleased by that outcome. It would ensure that you do not have to be apart. He will have a large role in raising your child together. “The babe is coming.” The Hippocrates tells you from between your legs, frowning at Marcus as he looks down to see the head. “You must push, empress. As hard as you can.”

Marcus is suddenly taken back to the moment when his wife was laboring and after the silence that lingered in the air when the boy was born sleeping, he remembers his wife's cry of agony until she started convulsing. His grip on your hand tightens as his heart pounds, terrified that he is going to lose you in the same way.

Gritting your teeth, nodding as you sit up and start to scream as you bear down as hard as you can. Sweat is pouring off of you and for a moment, you want to give up and tell them that you cannot do it. The pressure on your hand makes you look up. Seeing the horror on Marcus’s face, you know that he is scared for you. For the baby. Closing your eyes, you push again, feeling the pressure suddenly release and hearing the Hippocrates exclaim happily, “a boy!”

Marcus is shaking when he hears the babe cry out and he knows he's alive. He looks at you, wanting to see if you are okay as the hippocrates cradles the crying baby who has a mop of black hair.

You hear the hushed whispers, but you don’t care. You don’t care if all of Rome knows that the baby that will one day be Emperor is Marcus’s. The Hippocrates cleans the baby up while the servants start to massage your stomach, making you wince in pain but it’s all forgotten when the babe is placed into your arms. Making you cry happy tears as you kiss his head softly.

Marcus stares down at the babe in your arms, his cries echoing in the room, and Marcus falls instantly in love. His son. He will never allow harm to come to the boy, and he will claim him as his. He is Emperor now, he can do as he wishes in regards to his personal life. He wishes to marry you and claim the child as his. “I love you.” Marcus declares, uncaring of anyone else in the room, and he leans in to kiss the forehead of the crying baby. “My son.” He whispers, wanting him to know how much he already adores him.

You beam as you look at Marcus and your son. The future is far brighter now that your love has done the impossible. He and the senate have toppled the emperors and restored order without needless bloodshed. “I love you too.” You promise, leaning forward and kissing him boldly. “Both of us do, my emperor.”

****

Marcus wraps his arm around your waist, the golden laurel on his head matches yours as you stand on the balcony. “Do you, Maximis Acacius, vow to dedicate your life to the Roman Empire and her people?” Brutus asks, his hair now greying like Marcus’s. “I do.” Maximus vows, his head nodding. Marcus is proud of his son who he has trained to be the emperor. He claimed him as his son after he was sworn in as emperor and the empire celebrated having a new emperor with a son to take over. Since that day, you and Marcus have had 3 more children who stand beside you, proud of their brother who is taking his rightful place.

You look out over the crowd, a smile on your face bright and proud. You have been incredibly lucky, Marcus has been a wonderful emperor. Rome has flourished under his care and now he willingly turns the reins over to Maximus like he had planned when he was born. “I love you.” You murmur as the crowd roars in celebration of the new emperor.

Marcus turns to look at you, older but no less beautiful. You are his world - you and the children. He leans in to nudge his nose against yours, “I love you.” He promises, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. His entire world has changed thanks to Caracalla’s mad idea to have another man conceive the heir to Rome. In the end, Marcus is the one who won with his son as emperor and the empress as his uxor.

[kyseya]

Once upon a time

‘Prince’ Yandere x reader

Imagine a reader in modern day society. She lives in a normal little town, went to your average school, lives in a normal house and has your everyday friendly neighbours. Like I said, her life is nothing out of the ordinary.

She feels lucky to have so many kind people in her life. Everyone knows everyone and isn’t afraid of lending a helping hand whenever someone is in trouble. The town is on the smaller side but very cozy. They have their own traditions like the annual Christmas market or the summer fundraiser. Nice stuff like that.

Everything is simply perfect! Or…well it would be if not for one tiny detail.

Unfortunately there’s one guy who just can’t seem to take a hint. Reader feels kinda mean thinking of him as a stain on the idyllic life she’s built. She doesn’t understand why he can’t take a ‘no’ for an answer. Everyday this hunk of a man walks right into her workplace like he owns the place and demands reader’s attention. With the way he’s acting you would think he’s dying and reader’s attention is the one and only cure.

It’s not like he’s ugly or anything, but a guy who doesn’t listen is just a 🚩

That’s not even the worst part. Another big issue is his…delusions.

Like, one time when reader was walking home she decided to stop by the market square since she needed some groceries. And guess who was in the middle of the square, somehow managed to climb onto the water fountain and proudly shouting at the top of his lungs? Part of reader’s soul disintegrated that day. What in the world was he doing!? He didn’t seem to be embarrassed either. No, with his nose pointed upwards he said he was going to reveal a big secret about the whole town. Silence filled he air, everyone was curious about what he was about to say.

What was this secret? Had someone committed a grave crime and was about to be exposed? Thoughts like that circled in everyone’s mind. Their imagination came to life and dreamt up various scenarios to what the deal was. People anticipated something foul, raw and sinful only to be met with grave disappointment.

You see, the man had suddenly declared himself as royalty in front of an entire audience. He claimed that the whole town was under a spell and had forgotten about their origins; being fairytale characters. And right now, only he was able to remember the truth. Alright, what the hell? That was ridiculous. What made it worse was the fact that he appointed himself as the towns prince and leader. Yikes. He said most- if not all- of the citizens where peasants and therefore his subjects. That’s why the had to listen to him from now on.

Reader wanted to peel off her skin and scream in that moment. The secondhand embarrassment was too much.

Bringing down shame upon yourself and your ancestors was one thing, but did he have to drag reader into it?? He claimed she was also royalty and should be treated with outmost respect. Why? Because he’s her husband! Of course his spouse need the 5-star treatment as well.

After the painful incident he’s always stopped by her workplace to talk her ear off. No matter what she said or did(or how much others complained) he never left. At least not permanently. In rare instances he did go with a downcast expression but he’d always be back full force the next day.

The man tells reader about the wonderful life they were going to have. If only the curse wouldn’t have been placed and they’d all been transported to the world they currently live in. It pains him so to know she’s forgotten all about him and the great love they shared. But it’ll be alright. After all, they found each other again and he refuses to let go.

Reader only half listens(he will throw a tantrum if he realises she’s not paying attention to him) as he drones on about how they first met in the forest. Of course he found her by hearing a wonderful song travel through the woods, he followed it all the way to her. They danced together and met every sundown from then on. It was so romantic. It’s impossible not to roll your eyes at the cliche imagery, it’s just so corny.

Yandere ‘prince’ also demands reader to refer to him by his royal, ‘real’ name. It’s not his real one, it’s something else. Everyone knows that- except him, apparently, since he refuses to respond to it. If you do use it, he’ll ignore you and pretend you didn’t speak at all. It’s very tiring, more so since he tries to enforce this delusion onto reader. He also won’t use her actual name and instead settles for this medieval one. Apart from that, he calls her ‘love,’ ‘darling’, ‘my heart’ and other cutesy nicknames that are far from appreciated.

It doesn’t matter what reader says, he won’t stop.

He insists he wants to be her saviour again. Sadly for him there is nothing to protect you from except the occasional spider that makes its way inside your house.

‘Well, it’s better than nothing.’ He would say before smacking and tossing it out.

He is willing to do anything for his lover. And that really does means anything. Nothing is off the table. It wasn’t before and it definitively isn’t now simply because of some lame curse. It can’t keep him form his soulmate.

He was your prince before, he’ll show you that he still is.

———————————

[This is kinda based of Once Upon A Time, though it’s been ages since I watched it. ]

[researchgate]

"From Paris to Peru, from Japan to Rome, The stupidest animal, in my opinion, is man." - Olympe de Gouges, a note in the Declaration of the Rights of WOman and the Female Citizen, 1791

[demonicintegrity]

“The golden age of America begins right now” my dude groceries are expensive and will not get cheaper overnight.

“We will be the envy of every nation” we’re not. And will not be.

Just. Eugh.

“A tide of change is sweeping over the country.” Sure is. That is correct observation.

“We now have a government that cannot manage a single issue from home” YOU MISMANAGED COVID?

YOU ARE BRING UP IMMIGRANTS NOW??

“They don’t have a home anymore. That’s interesting.” Those rich people have second and third homes and can always afford more. Shut the fuck up. If you care about people care about the people who cannot afford such things.

“I was saved by god to make America great again.” I cannot stress enough how much I dislike any god that could’ve sent this man to us.

“Meet every crisis with dignity, power and strength.” Remember when you sharpied on the path of a hurricane.

LIBERATION DAY??? FROM WHAT???

“Most consequential election…” yeah. Sure. Sure is.

Oh no not the historic executive orders— COMMON SENSE???

Declaring a national emergency at our southern border (and receiving standing ovation for it), beginning the process of deportations for “criminals” and sending troops to our border. Which. Surely won’t escalate violence at all.

I’m not familiar with this illegal aliens act from the 1700s but I fear I’m about to be very aware about it. I cannot imagine this is anything good.

DRILL BABY DRILL??? THATS GONNA SOLVE THE NATIONAL ENERGY EMERGENCY?? YOURE SHITTING ME.

“We will be a rich nation again, and it will be—

ENDING THE GREEN NEW DEAL, USING THE OIL UNDER OUR FEET WHILE CALIFORNIA BURNS. Fucking hell.

“We will tariff and tax foreign countries to enrich our citizens.” Somehow. I don’t believe that will enrich us.

Establishing the ERS and DOGE. Ough.

And he’s gonna bring back free speech while criticizing Seth Meyers for poking at him….. and he’s gonna stop political persecution. Yeah sure. Sure. Sure sure sure.

SOCIALLY ENGINEER RACE AND GENDER INTO PUBLIC AND PRIVATE PLACES?? THAT WAS HAPPENINGG.

It’s official policy. Only Male and Female. It’s really going to be official policy. Oh my fucking god. From a party that denies climate change. Oh my fucking god. I’m nonbinary and that’s about to be a fucking challenge.

“The wars we never get into.” Didn’t we worry about ww3 last time?

“That’s what I wanna be, a peacemaker and unifier.” YOURE NOT. YOU ARE NOT.

WHY ARE YOU CHANGING THE GULF OF MEXICO??

“foolishly given to the country of Panama” ITS ON THEIR LAND AND THEY CONTROL IT?? HELLO??? Yet China is operating the Panama Canal???

“As we liberate our nation” from WHAT. What are you liberating us from!?

“Pursue our manifest destiny” didnt that genocide natives— PLANT A FLAG ON MARS?

Yeah no this entire speech has been. A little concerning to say the least. And it just keeps going and going.

“Full of compassion, courage, and exceptionalism.” You are the least compassionate person here. Please.

I just. Don’t feel great after that. Hm.

[colombinaa]

Every time the left claims that radical feminism is a right-wing movement, it reminds me of Olympe de Gouges, a French activist for women’s rights alive during the period of the French Revolution.

In 1791 she published the “Declaration of the Rights of Woman and of the Female Citizen” - in response to the “Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen” - to criticise male authority and advocate for women’s rights.

Two years later, she was arrested and executed by the Revolutionary government, under the accusation of treason. She was killed for criticising the hypocrisy of the leftist, poor and oppressed men of the revolution.

Left or right, radical or not, men simply hate us.

Any revolution that isn’t female-centered and female-led will bring us no liberation.

Use some of your time to talk with the women in your life about female liberation, exchange ideas and encourage each other’s curiosity

[dcxdpdabbles]

ok but office supplier is even funnier if jason hasn't been declared legally alive again and danny starts dating him thus allowing him to both be and not be part of the wayne family

"I have a date," Danny says one random morning as he refills the office snack bar. Danny, in his own words, is one of the highest-paid employees. He has chosen to create a snack center for all Wayne employees. He has one on every three floors, filling it with fruits, chips, chocolate, pudding, and drinks.

And a cabinet with free samples of stationery supplies he thought more people should know about. Next to the supplies, he wrote the name of the product, where to buy, and even recommendations of

Everyone felt really touched by this and started bringing snacks and drinks to help him. Half the time, Danny only refilled the stationary since everyone was happy to have a community snack bar.

"A what!?" Jack from accounting gasped. Danny didn't pay him any mind; he was too busy picking between the flower and moon mini-planners.

Both were pocket-sized, but one had a workout addition, while the other had a section to track books for readers. He felt like there were more readers than gym goers, but he didn't want either to miss out if he picked one over the other.

"A date," he responded after placing both options inside the basket. He'll have to wait to introduce the amazing erasable pens he found, but he could make it up next month.

"With who?" Demanded Sara. She worked in PR and had been attempting to have him attend at least three parties with the Waynes in the past month alone.

"Peter. I met him a week ago at a street fair. One of the personal pen makers I follow would have a booth, and I was dying to see them." Danny pulls a box from his pocket, showcasing the fancy navy blue pen. "This is the George Washington Battle of Princeton edition. It has the painting of the battle wrapped around it, with careful silver-golden details on the cap to resemble the colonial era and a golden-edged nib; this is one fine fountain pen. It cost me five thousand and nine hundred dollars."

"Danny, please focus- five thousand? You spent five thousand on a pen!?"

Danny puffs out his chest, smiling broadly. "It was worth every penny!"

"That's-never mind. Are you sure Peter is a good person?" Jack pressed, "Because I know a great man. Mr. Drake-Wayne! Wouldn't you rather go on a date with him?"

"But Peter bought me easrsers that were shaped like fried chicken. They came in bucket. See." He ramages through his bag until he pulsl out a palm-szed bucket with chicken shaped earses inside. "Isn't it cool?"

"I'll admit that's pretty cool," Sara conceded but shared a quick glance with her coworkers. Danny wonders why they all look so worried. This wasn't that expensive. Peter only used ten dollars for it. "Do you like Peter?"

"I don't know. It's just a first date." He shrugs. "I don't usually have those. Not many people are willing to listen to me ramble about stationary."

"You know who would love to listen to you?" Jack throws an arm around Danny's shoulder. "Mr. Drake-Wayne!"

"Mr. Grasyon-Wayne!"

"Mis Wayne!"

"Mr. Wayne!" Everyone turns to stare at Gary, who flushes, "Bruce Wayne, not Damian!"

That caused some head nods and a few scattered comments about how the age gap was still alarmingly large, but if both were consenting adults, who were they to oppose it? Danny stared back as everyone debated whether Danny and Mr.Wayne should date.

He glances down at his heart-shaped notepads and figures they are right. It's not like he has any feelings about this date. He just agreed to get the passers.

Taking out his phone, he sends Peter a message to cancel their date. He should go out with someone because he likes them, not because they may allow him to discuss his interests.

Jason despairs somewhere on the other side of town as he reads the text for his second persona- a living citizen Peter Todd- from the guy who he saw at the street market going gaga over pens. The guy was so cute, too.

[syluslvrgirl]

BAD GIRL GOOD GIRL

pairing ─ policeman!caleb x civilianfem!reader contains ─ MINORS DNI, fem!gendered terms, use of y/n, good girl/bad girl, lots of pet names, spicy content, basically just p no plot, no established relationship, slight degradation, teasing, kind of roleplay, unprotected p-in-v, handcuffs, oral (m and f receiving), missionary, very forward reader, some dom and sub dynamics, kind of fluff at the end, all strictly fictional word count ─ 4.1k about ─ when you accidentally mistake police officer caleb for a hooker, things take an interesting turn!

notes ─ heavily inspired by caleb's farspace fleet outfit sO IMAGINE THAT INSTEAD OF A NORMAL POLICE OFFICER UNIFORM. my first time writing this type of content!! i think i put in the right stuff in the contains section but let me know if there's anything else i should add. hope you enjoy ;)

The lights were glaring and the music was pumping throughout the club. You and your group of friends had dressed up to the nines for your birthday, booking yourselves a little table in Linkon City's hottest nightclub. The DJ was playing some banging 2000s hits and you couldn't contain your excitement as you drank shot after shot, drink after drink. And if that wasn't enough, you and your girls had decided to take the party to your apartment, blasting out music from your tv speakers and dancing around to your heart's content.

The girls soon left one by one clambering out of your apartment, still giggling and high off the energy of the night. They mentioned a 'special surprise' that they had prepared for you, not giving you the slightest clue to what it was. You thanked them all for coming as they left, opting to spend the rest of your time awake and cleaning the mess that had now accumulated in your apartment. You could worry about washing up after all of that was done. 

Ding dong. The doorbell rang accompanied by two sharp knocks at the door. You looked at the clock which was now nearing 3am. That’s odd? Maybe one of the girls left something here, you thought. Hurrying over to the door after hearing another knock and an "Excuse me", you looked through the peephole only to be met by a tall, violet eyed man in a stunning police officer uniform. No fucking way. You had spoken to the girls multiple times about liking men in uniform but you didn't think they would send you a male hooker dressed in uniform for your birthday. Opening the door, you gave the man an innocent smile.

"Hi officer. What seems to be the problem?" you questioned, head cocked to the side.

"Hello ma'am, I'm Officer Caleb. I’m just here because there's been complaints about the noise coming from your apartment." he declared, eyeing your figure and the inside of the apartment. You were a sight for sore eyes and the way your eyes fawned over him had him drooling just a little. However, he had a title to uphold and a job to do. He couldn't risk it all over a precious, gorgeous thing such as yourself, could he?

"Hmm? A noise complaint? I don't know what you mean Officer.....Caleb." you drawled with a grin, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ears as you drew your eyes from his badge to his lips. This man looked delicious, absolutely ravishing even and if you were right he was all yours for tonight.

"Ma'am what was your name?” Caleb asked, eyes gazing into yours.

“I'm Y/n.” you answered, holding his gaze.

“Well Y/n I think I'll need to take a look inside your apartment. Extra precautions you know?" Caleb insisted with a smirk, his arm propped up against your apartment door. 

"Of course sir. I'm a law abiding citizen. I would never disobey an officer of the law." you answered with a giggle. Opening your door, you stepped aside to let this handsome stranger walk in. He took his hat and badge off, surveying the area. Wow this man is really into his role, it's kind of hot, you ogled as he walked around your living room.

"Anything else you need to check out? I've got a whole lot more to show you." you slyly asked, eyes perked up to meet his. 

"You sure about that pipsqueak? I'm off the clock in a few minutes. You mind waiting?" he questioned, eyebrows raised. 

"Sure thing Officer, anything for you." you breathed, fingers trailing across his chest to meet his tie and pull him in towards you.

"A little impatient aren't we?" he chuckled with a slight shake of his head.

"What can I say, I really like a man in uniform." you emphasised, not once taking your eyes off of him. Caleb was flattered to say the least. Throughout the many years working as a police officer, never once had he been so enamoured by such words from an attractive woman like yourself. Maybe it was the boldness in your actions and that fucking cute smile. He wanted to know exactly how those pretty lips would look wrapped around his cock. 

"Why don't you show me to the bedroom then? Nothing like a little routine check to make sure everything is in order." Caleb suggested still peering at your lips.

"Right this way officer." you purred, pulling him by his tie to the direction of your bedroom. You dragged him in before pushing him towards the bed, jumping onto Caleb and straddling his waist.

His hands landed onto your waist, before pulling you in for a deep kiss. Both your lips moved rapidly against each other, whilst your hands ran through his hair, tugging at it before going to the nape of his neck. The kiss was hot and heavy, your tongues delving deeper into each others' mouths, hands hastily grabbing at whatever they could. You two kept going with no breaks for air as Caleb slowly leaned back down towards the bed, bringing you along with him. You broke free from the kiss, eyeing Caleb and his muscular body.

“So Officer Caleb, are you satisfied with your routine check of the bedroom? Anything else you need to do?” you smirked, noticing the lipstick stains Caleb was now sporting on his own lips.

“Unfortunately I don’t think I'm done with my routine check just yet. Someone has been a really bad girl. I'll need to conduct a strip search." Caleb answered, hands roaming all over your body. He quickly flipped you over onto your back, causing you to softly yelp from the sudden movement.

“I think I want to start with these.” he whispered in your ear, hands cupping your breasts from over your top and softly massaging them. 

“Definitely officer, I can help with that.” you replied, taking your top off, revealing to Caleb your cute lace bra. Caleb began peppering kisses from your lips to your neck, all the way down to your bra.

“May I, Y/n?” he softly asked, motioning to the back clasp of your bra.

“Yea go for it.” you breathed, eyes fluttering at him. Caleb swiftly undid your bra clasp revealing to him the most perfect pair of tits he had ever laid his eyes on. Looking up to your eyes for confirmation, you gave him a small nod. Within seconds, Caleb had latched onto your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue on one whilst he rolled and tweaked your other bud between his fingers. This sudden pleasure and sensation elicited soft whines and moans from your mouth. Caleb's hands and mouth were magical, sending electricity pulsing all throughout your body. 

“Mmm, just like that baby. I want to hear you make those noises. Let me know how good it feels.” he groaned. God you sounded amazing. He wanted to hear more. The sweet noises you made urged him to keep on going. 

“More Caleb, please.” you moaned, feeling a warm wet pool beginning to form between your legs. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me then? Going to listen to whatever I say?” Caleb hummed, now kissing and leaving marks from your chest to your neck as he continued fondling your breasts.

“Yes, yes.” you replied nodding without any hesitation, hands making their way to tug onto Caleb's hair.

"Good. That's exactly what I want to hear." Caleb cooed, making his way to your lips. Once again, he pulled you in for another kiss. This one being more intense and more eager than the first. You melted under his hypnotising and yearning touch, both your tongues swirling roughly against each other. You wanted to move, palm the growing bulge you could feel pressing against you but you were in too much absolute bliss to be able to move.

"I want these to come off too. Still haven't finished with my strip search yet, pipsqueak." Caleb added smugly, now looking down at your miniskirt and tugging at the hem of it. 

"But you haven't taken anything off yet. It's not fair." you whined, pulling at his tie in an attempt to take it off.

"Nuh uh, hands off baby girl. You said you'd be good. Let me finish my routine check and I'm all yours." Caleb answered, eyes commanding you to back down as he held onto your wrist in an attempt to pry them away from his tie. You gave him a pout before following through, ever so slowly taking off your skirt along with your panties. Caleb's finger ghosted slowly to your sides, placing soft gentle kisses and leaving marks along the way to your core. He gently moved your legs apart, marvelling at the slickness coating your folds.

"I bet you taste just as good as you look right now." he praised before completely devouring you, attacking your sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue laid flat, flicking it with long, slow licks. You groaned, your thighs clasping around his head as your body sunk into sensation, responding to his movements. He clamped onto your clit, sucking and licking it like a man starved and desperate.

"C'mon now, what did I say? I want to hear you Y/n. Only good girls get prizes." he urged, eyes looking up at you whilst he continued swirling his tongue on your clit. His hands moved from your legs to your tits, this time doubling the feeling of pleasure as he continued tweaking and rubbing your breasts. You whined in response, your back arching as he continued ravaging you in the best way possible. Caleb began dragging long licks from your cunt to your clit. Tongue darting in and out of you, lapping up your juices. Fuck was this hooker good at his job. Your friends must've paid a whole lot of money for this package. 

"Fuck, you're making me feel too good." you moaned, looking down at the handsome man in between your legs. His eyes met yours, observing the way your eyes scrunched up and how your moans were shaped on your mouth. He studied you, seeing which licks and sucks elicited the prettiest expressions on your face, etching it forever within his memory.

"I'll make you feel even better in a moment. You're so pretty like this for me. Doing so well pipsqueak. Just a little bit more and then you can have your way with me." Caleb rasped, his hands now making their way back towards your core. 

Caleb's finger began burrowing its way between your folds until it came nestled into your sopping cunt. He purposefully dragged his finger slowly into you, causing a slight whimper to escape from your mouth. He ran painstaking slow circles within you, adding another finger whilst his tongue was still flitting over your now sensitive bundle of nerves. 

"Hmm I can't seem to find anything in here except your tight cunt. You're sucking my fingers in so nicely huh? Wonder how it'll look when you're sucking in my cock." Caleb taunted, teasingly grinning up at you succumbing to his pleasurable movements. 

"Mhm more please Caleb." you breathily let out. Your hands clambering from his hair to your bed sheets with your mind now a blur.

"What was that baby? I can't hear you. Speak up and I’ll give you what you want." Caleb smirked, still continuing his slow assault within your cunt.

"I want you to go a little harder please." you seethed. 

"That's my good girl. Since you asked so nicely, your wish is my command." Caleb grinned before moving his fingers faster within your aching centre, hitting just the right spots. He used his other free hand to rub circles around your throbbing clit.

"Fuck, Caleb. I can't think straight at all." you drawled, head thrown back with your eyes rolling back to your head.

"That's just what I like to hear." Caleb chuckled now, moving and rubbing at a slightly faster pace, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The way you were writhing under him was hotter than any girl he had ever had and he wanted time to slow down for as long as it could. Your whines and moans echoed throughout the room, urging him to keep going faster and harder with his movements. He gave you another longing kiss, feverishly devouring you. You moaned into the kiss and the way you sounded almost made him want to finish in his pants right then and there, almost. 

"'M so close." you let out as your laboured breathing began mixing in with soft mewls. Your hands were grappling at your bedsheets, head spinning and reeling from all the build-up of pleasure. 

"You are? It's so cute the way you're tightening around my fingers. You gonna be a good girl and come for me then?" Caleb crooned and with those words you came undone by his hands. Your body trembled in delight, head thrown back and riding through the tremendous waves of gratification for what felt like forever. Your body was a temple and Caleb had just paid his dues in worshipping in it. Slowly your eyes fluttered open as you came down from your high. 

Looking over at Caleb you ogled his fully clothed body, still clad in his tie and slacks with his handcuffs dangling from his belt. 

"Wanna use them?" Caleb asked, taking off the handcuffs and dangling them in the air. The silver metal glinted in the lights, calling out to you.

"Oh you don't need to ask me twice." you answered eagerly, grabbing the handcuffs from him before looping your arms around his neck.

"Sooo Officer Caleb, since you've had your fun, I think it's my turn." you declared, a mischievous gleam within your smile. Your hands moved to his wrists, locking the handcuffs around them so that his hands were now cuffed up behind his back.

"Hmm, are you going to make me feel good then?" Caleb questioned, smiling at your cute attempt to take charge. Still he'd let you have your way and then he'd show you who really was the one with all the power. 

You straddled his hips, hovering slightly over the bulge confined in his pants and deliberately grinding your hips at an achingly slow pace. Caleb hissed in response, violet eyes glaring into yours. You giggled before leaning into him, engulfing him into another kiss. Both your mouths melding into one another, drawing out soft groans from Caleb as you continued your slow-paced assault against his tent. You helped him undo his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as you continued to kiss your way down towards his pants. 

"Mind hurrying up there?" Caleb grunted, eyes now searing into the way your hands slowly, but surely, began to undo his belt.

"You took your time with me, what's wrong with a little payback?" you teased, unzipping his pants and finally pulling his boxers down, freeing Caleb's twinging thick cock. It was so fucking pretty. Perfectly shaped and curved, a smidge of precum leaking from the top with veins perfectly intact.

"Are you just going to keep staring or what?" Caleb smiled smugly as he noted how you looked at him in awe.

In response to his comment, you gave little kitten-licks on his lip, savouring the taste, eyes peering into his. Your tongue swirled around the top of his cock, teasing him, drawing him in and making him want more. He moaned, bucking his hips in an attempt to get his cock deeper into your mouth. You pulled back and Caleb's aching cock was met with the cold air of your bedroom. 

"C'mon pipsqueak, you can do better than that." he frowned, upset with being denied the pleasure of sinking his throbbing cock into your sweet, sweet mouth. 

"Say it with a please at least." you jokingly scoffed.

“Please pipsqueak." he pleaded, eyes clouded and full of need. You answered him by licking from the base of his cock to the tip, spitting onto it so you could lube it up. You began sinking your mouth onto his cock, using your hand to pump him from the base upwards. Fuck this man was a little too big. You bobbed your head up and down trying your best to breathe through your nostrils as your hand continued stroking.

"Fuck baby, you're doing so well. Be a good girl and try to fit all of me in your sweet mouth, pretty please?" he groaned as your mouth went slack, moving deeper down onto his cock and feeling the tip hit the back of your throat. Caleb let out a throaty moan as you carried on sucking and caressing him, making him see stars as he closed his eyes. Your mouth let go of Caleb's cock with a pop before staring up into his daring eyes.

"Can I ride you?" your words came out as a whisper, barely registering in your head what you had just said. Caleb's ears perked up, a smile carved onto his lips.

"I thought you'd never ask pipsqueak. Be my guest." Caleb answered, moving his legs wider to give you space. You positioned your dripping cunt over the tip of his cock, slowly but surely easing yourself in. A hiss slipped out from Caleb's lips whilst a whimper escaped from your mouth. He was stretching you out, moulding his way into you. You took short deep breaths, sinking yourself further down to the base of his cock.

"That's it baby, you're doing so well for me hm?" Caleb drawled, the feeling of being so deep in you was doing things to him he couldn't comprehend. It was a perfect fit. Like you were made to fit him, an exact piece to his puzzle. 

You began to move, your hips grinding against Caleb's and soft moans eliciting from your mouth. To Caleb you looked like heaven, no you were heaven. If he had died and this was what greeted him up in heaven, then he wouldn't have it any other way. Your hips were driving him insane and if he wasn’t so concentrated on trying not to finish so quickly, he would’ve already been a goner. He couldn’t take being unable to move anymore and ever so secretly undid the handcuffs just exactly like he had been taught within the police academy. Within seconds your back was now on your bed, Caleb’s cock still in you, his eyes now held a mischievous glint in them and his face was adorned with a smirk. 

“Huh? How did you even..?” you gasped in shock, confused at how he had undone his handcuffs so quickly.

“They teach you a lot of things at the police academy.” he grinned with his hands now massaging your hips, slowly easing his way in and out of you, evoking short, sweet gasps from you.

“Please Caleb.” you let out, grasping at whatever pleasure was rippling through your body.

“Please what? Gonna need you to be more specific baby girl.” Caleb mused, peppering kisses all along your neck and chest. 

“Need you to move please, Caleb.” you groaned, pouting at his minimal amount of movement. He was teasing you, provoking you to want more from him. And in truth, all you really wanted him to do was fuck your literal brains out. 

“But I am moving.” Caleb taunted, torturing you with his painfully slow movements.

“Just fuck me like you mean it Caleb.” you answered back, now glaring at him instead. 

“Your wish is my command, princess.” Caleb beamed before absolutely going in. His hips snapped against yours, his tip hitting just the right spots that sent your head reeling and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He showed no mercy, suckling at your sweet skin as though tonight was his last night on Earth and everything he did needed to count. 

“Hmmm you’re so fucking pretty like this.” Caleb let out, panting and grunting at every word he gasped through his breath. You moaned in response, hands moving to latch around Caleb’s neck, leaving scratches behind his back as the satisfying way his cock hit right at your cervix had your body leading up to another high. 

“Mmm right there, it feels so good Caleb.” you mewled, cooing praises into his ear. Your words of affirmation motivated him more, rousing him to move in a more circular motion and prompting his movements to grow at a steady pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you and closer into you. 

“Can’t get enough can you? You just want me deeper and deeper inside don’t you? Gonna go so deep you won’t be able to forget how I feel baby girl.” Caleb moaned, the feeling of being squeezed and absolutely absorbed by your soft walls was sending him over the moon. 

“Caleb, ’m close again.” you drawled, feeling your high getting closer and closer, a building tempo increasing within your clenching walls.

“Fuck baby, me too. You’re gonna have to stop clenching so hard I won’t have enough time to pull out. ” Caleb replied, feeling too good at the way his cock was rubbing so nicely against your cervix, his own nerves bundling up inside him. 

“Can’t help it. Feeling so good. Gonna come soon Caleb.” you stuttered, your voice barely a whisper before finally the feeling of being tipped over the edge, hit you like a wave crashing all throughout your body. Your back arched in response, letting out one final gasp and after a few more thrusts, Caleb's high followed along with yours, pulling out and spilling himself all over your stomach and breasts, groaning in the process. You still had your arms around his neck, before you pulled him in for another kiss.

“Holy shit princess, that was incredible. Let me get you cleaned up. Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, sweat now prominent on his forehead and hands frantically looking for tissues. 

“I’ve got tissues on my desk. Bathroom’s right next door, there should be a spare towel there.” you answered with your limbs sprawled out on the bed. Caleb rushed to grab the tissues, slowly and carefully cleaning himself off from your chest and your stomach. He ran to grab your towel, wetting it and wiping you down ever so gently, a stark contrast to his headstrong persona in bed before. He cleaned himself up with the spare towel, making sure he chucked both towels into your laundry basket before settling down right next to you.

“You don’t mind if I stay the night, do you? I know we don’t really know each other but-” Caleb began, hand running through his hair as his eyes darted around.

“Be my guest. After what we’ve just done, I'd say we’re definitely a little closer.” you giggled at his shyness, wondering where exactly Officer Caleb had gone. He was a stranger, yes, but by now you had definitely broken all the ground rules on stranger danger. Plus a man who had treated you that good in bed was surely a man worthy of being allowed to stay over. Caleb moved under the covers, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest. The lull of his heartbeat and the way he stroked your hair pulled you into the most peaceful sleep you had ever had. 

Ding dong. Your doorbell was ringing, disrupting you from your wonderful slumber as you cocked your head up from Caleb’s warm chest. Who the hell was it at this hour? You grumbled to yourself, grabbing your phone to check the time. Your phone read 1pm whilst flashes of birthday messages, photo tags and more were flooding through to your notifications. Not wanting to wake up Caleb, you moved slowly to the door, peeping through the peephole just like you had done last night. There in front of your door stood a man in an awful looking police officer costume. 

You began frantically messaging your friends, wondering to yourself who it was that was at your door. Surely your friends hadn’t hired two hookers for you. After last night you knew you couldn’t handle nor wanted anything more. You received a reply back:

‘Must be your surprise! He said he was supposed to come last night but he got delayed. Enjoy ;)'

Your eyes widened. If the man outside was supposed to be the hooker your friends had hired for you, who the hell was the man who had fucked you oh so good last night? Eyeing the badge Caleb had left on the kitchen bench, you opened it up, only to be met with an official Linkon City Police badge and the name Caleb Xia boldly printed on it.

Oh fuck.

[generalsmemories]

The general has escaped... again

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: what's more stressful than managing the internal affairs of luofu you ask? making sure that your husband actually stays in one place when he's ordered to.

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, humor, mentions of other characters, spoilers for 1.3 trailblaze mission, spoilers for the end of IL Dan Heng's companion quest

✧ a/n: under one patch update (1.3) this man has managed to run away from bedrest a total of 3 times, as such i'm obligated to write this - behold, the brainrot of the week. once again, jing yuan only appears at the very end, but this whole fic is just how everyone is stressing over how this overgrown cat can escape from right under their noses. not beta-ed as usual fellas.

There's a heavy silence lingering in the air around the Realm keeping commission. For once, the commission has been closed to the public for an hour to discuss internal affairs - is what the citizens of Luofu believes at least.

You don't seem affected by the tense silence, Yanqing notices. He's standing before you, glancing around the other tense officials that's seated by their own desk. The two alchemy commission members present with him seem equally as confused as to why you've summoned them here.

It's only when they hear you place your brush down that they all stand up straight, attention back on you now that you've started to move again.

"I have a favor to ask," you start off, looking at the three people in front of you.

"The general is currently still on bedrest, and the master diviner has temporarily taken his role as the acting general master while he rests, correct?" you ask, to no one in particular.

But it's the newly appointed chief alchemist, Yuluo that answers you, "That is indeed correct."

"However, knowing the general he might start to move the moment he feels some sort of movement come back to his muscles," you point out, having risen from your chair during the (mostly one-sided) conversation to stand before your desk, leaning slightly back towards it with your arms crossed.

"Which is why, I need you all to keep an eye on him," you declare in the end, "The general won't be straying far away from the Exalting Sanctum for reasons you all might know, so I would have to trouble both you and Jinwen to make the trips back and forth from the alchemy commission to assess his conditin from time to time. But Yanqing, you'll mostly have the responsibility to ensure that he doesn't try to do anything else than rest, okay?"

You were already fully aware that you gave the three people before you an impossible task.

And the three people before you was also aware of the fact, but what more could they do but bow their head slightly in confirmation with a resounding, "As you order."

Yanqing is pouting before you, picking at his food before you whilst you merely gaze at him from the other end of the table, "Not hungry? I thought this was your favorite restaurant," you say, in response Yanqing merely levels a glare at you. It doesn't reach his eyes because he has no animosity, you're pretty sure he's just irritated.

"... I tried," he membles after another few minutes of silence. The quiet confession making you chuckle, "I'm aware, I'm surprised you even managed to keep him laying down for so long."

"... I even nailed down a few swords by the covers so it would be harder for him to pull them off," he adds, stabbing a stray tomato with one chopstick to emphazise his point before shoving it in his mouth, "But then he's already dressed and waiting by the door when I went to the toilet to attend the ceremony that was held for the deceased! [Name], he was even waiting for me with a smile!"

Your smile softens upon hearing his complaints, a finger pushing a glass of water towards the boy before you as a silent suggestion for him to drink it, "I already anticipated that he would do that, so why the long face still?"

"Because he refused to go back to rest right after the ceremony ended! And what else can I do, but heed his order with so many people around?" Yanqing huffs, crossing his arms as his food is now forgotten with his irritation overturning his appetite.

"Well he's resting now isn't he? Jinwen is currently staying at the manor to make sure he doesn't step foot outside. The day of the ceremony would've also been one of the last times he could get in contact with our guests from the Astral Express too, I'm sure he wanted to give them that jade abacus himself."

Not to mention the fact he personally went to the shackling prison right after handing it- alone nonetheless.

You omit the part of information from Yanqing. The topic itself still brings a tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan after all.

But before you can placate the small lieutenant any further, you can feel hurried footsteps making their way towards your table. And when you turn your head around to look at the commotion, you find Jinwen panting before you, right behind her one of the Cloud Knights assigned to the manor. And even with a mask on you just know that they're not looking at you.

"[Name]..." Jinwen starts, and you hum whilst fishing up your wallet, "Yes?"

"The general..." she starts, reluctantly looking around, fiddling her thumbs in nervousness. You just hand Yanqing the money before standing up, "He's escaped again, hasn't he?" you confirm, eyebrow raising up in question.

The healer before you merely nods, "I-I'm sorry, I have no idea where he went, I went back to the kitchen to prepare the next dosage of medicine and when I checked again he had suddenly just vanished - the guards didn't even know anything either."

"Even if they knew, they can't really go against their general, can they?" you point out with a laugh, patting the distressed healer on the shoulder before looking over at the Cloud Knight behind Jinwen, "Gather some more Cloud Knights and tell them to meet up at the alchemy commission as soon as possible."

You let out a sigh, rubbing your templates as if that would soothe the headache that's about to form from listening to the Disciples before you yap away whilst getting their hands bound behind their back.

"I want to preface that with the main disaster onboard the Luofu is over, you are aware that we have more personnel at the ready to apprehend you?" you point out, directing your gaze away from the harbor of the alchemy commission where the trailblazer, Dan Heng and Jing Yuan were currently standing to face the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus before you.

Knowing your husband, he's already aware that you're here.

"... And the fact that even after you failed to eliminate Jing Yuan back in september 5 times, and yet still tried again today - and even trying to take two Vidyadhara's along with him? I understand the confidence you had back when the disaster first struck, but now?" you laugh is disbelief. You're aware that it's futile to try to discuss the matter with the Disciples, but everything was worth a shot.

They'll always give the same response after all. Once the general is gone, everything will go more smoothly, once you see the true vision you would agree with them and so on.

It was getting quite tiring.

"Either way, I've contacted the Ten-Lords commission, we will probably have to make a trip to Scalegorge Waterscape to check for any stragglers, but I'm sure the Ten-Lords will have this matter under control..." you mutter, noticing the trailblazer and Dan Heng approach you, "Trailblazer, and mister Dan Heng, have you finished the matters at hand?"

Dan Heng nods, glancing at the tied up Disciples before you, to which you only wave it off, "Yes... And thank you for taking care of the ones over here," he mumbles, giving you a curt nod.

"All in a day's work, do have a safe trip back home though," you voice, "And if you were to ever return to the Luofu for whatever reason, do send me a message. I can at least assure that you'll be somewhat safer than today. I apologize for the inconvenience that these people have caused you," you add on, gesutring towards the Disciples while ignoring the surprise in his eyes.

Dan Heng doesn't say anything, only giving you another nod as a confirmation before walking off.

"Well then, with all that done..." looking back over to the docks, you find Jing Yuan already staring up from his spot at you, giving you a small smile and a small wave of his hand.

"... Of course he's overexhausted himself."

"Do you enjoy making everyone around you worry? I think Jinwen aged a couple of decades with the stunt you pulled today," you start to nag the moment you're within earshot of Jing Yuan - your husband merely chuckling at your exasperated face as you stomp over.

"I apologize, dear. I just had an inkling that something would go awry with their journey. Finding you would've taken longer and Lady Fu Xuan is already busy as the acting general in my absence. So I figured this was the best course of action," he tries to reason, but he can never reason with you when it comes to his wellbeing - no matter how many times he's tried in the past.

So you don't answer him. You only stare at him, close enough for him to see your dissatisfication, but far enough for him to not be able reach you or hold you in his arms.

"... I do admit I'm pretty weary though, I think this is the last time I'll violate the healers' order," he admits in the end with a defeated sigh, raising his arms a bit as a silent request, "Can I request the assistance of my dear spouse in these trying times?" he jests.

However, Jing Yuan is well aware of the fact that you're still very much weak to the few times he does request help.

As with any matter with Jing Yuan that you're inevitably forced to pick up, you can only sigh as you step closer. Weaving your fingers between his own to pull him a bit closer before leaning in to give him a brief peck on the lips.

You then weave your fingers away from his own in favor to wrapping your arms around his waist in a snug embrace, Jing Yuan taking the chance to wrap his own arms around yours before he leans his entire weight on you.

The extra weight makes you let out a grunt of surprise, but Jing Yuan has already buried his face into your neck, letting out a deep exhale into your skin which makes it tingle while his shoulders slump, "... You big lion, you're rivaling Mimi's clinginess at this point," you whisper with a chuckle.

"I haven't seen my dear spouse since they had ordered me to be bedridden, I'm sure you can handle a little clinginess," Jing Yuan mumbles back, kissing the juncture of your neck.

"Yeah, yeah. As an apology for caring about your health, what about we try to get home so that you can properly rest on a bed instead of leaning your entire weight on your dear spouse?"

Jing Yuan hums in appreciation, leaning back to cup your cheek with a smile, "I think that sounds wonderful," he confirms before pressing his lips back on your own.

[halfadiamond]

How President Price Won The Election:

Follows along with the !President Price series

CW: small mention of sex

Price, a decorated war veteran, who was tired of seeing politicians make decisions for soldiers when they’ve never set foot on a battlefield decides to run for president.

Being a Captain meant that he already had a bit of respect to his name. Veterans and soldiers respected him, and some were quick to endorse him.

Many of his rallies were consisted of: Veterans for Price, Soldiers for Price and even some youngsters joking coined the term: President for the Right Price

Before long, Price finds himself running against another candidate, a decent man, but he’s too busy making the rich get richer than he is about looking after the people who get left behind.

While Price does excellent at the debates (he credits that to his time in the military). Citizens are apprehensive to vote for him due to his lack of experience in the political field.

Citizens say that: He’s too blood thirsty, He’ll declare wars too quickly, or that He’s only here to defend the people of the military.

When looking at the polls, it’s obvious, Price is doing well but he just needs that extra boost to get people wanting him as President. Price even picks someone, he trusts as his vice and it helps just a tiny margin.

Of course, Price can’t forget about you. His wife, who’s been so sweet and supportive, following him along through his campaign trail as he campaigned. You preferred to stay out of the spotlight, it wouldn’t be a shock to say that the media barely knows who you are.

It isn’t until you head out to volunteer for a cause that the media falls in love. The media calls you, The Hidden Key, as once people see you and see how you much you volunteer, Price scores go up.

His campaign team has you go out into the spotlight with Price to help him. And it works, everyone loves seeing how Price takes care of you (from carrying you when your heels give your feet blisters and to handing you his credit card the moment you spot something you want).

Price’s rating skyrocketed; it didn’t help that many young voters keeping tagging him as the, DILF President, something Price didn’t quite enjoy but if it got him the young voters vote then he��d take it.

The campaign goes on for a while until it’s election night. Instead of sitting around and waiting, Price prefers to take you out to dinner and for desert, he’ll break the bed frame showing you how much he appreciated all you did during his campaign.

The results come in after a few days: John Price will be the next President

Now he’s definitely going to make sure he thanks you sincerely for your hard work

And if everyone saw you walk with a slight limp as you joined Price during his victory speech

No they didn’t

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[kirkenovak]

Mmmmmk, so who is Bob’s next of kin? I’m not even saying if he dies - can he even die? - but if something happens and someone is going to have to make decisions, who’s that gonna be? His parents? God, no! Valentina?? Double god, no! There are of course ways of doing it, but Bob feels good about himself and the trajectory of his life for the first time since he was 3, he feels like he’s taking responsibility and going somewhere, he really doesn’t want any guardianship hanging over him.

[And also because otherwise this wouldn’t have worked so just roll with the premise]

The easiest solution would be for Bob to get married, therefore creating a next of kin by default. The obvious choice would be Yelena but she’s actually a citizen of Russia which complicates the matters somewhat but also because Bob is openly gay. Which leaves

a) Alexei (but once again - even tho he proudly declares he absolutely would be honoured if Bob would be his spouse and that he would be good and loving and took a good care of him, and he was also in prison so he knows how these things work and everyone just start shouting GOD NO GOD NO PLEASE STOP TALKING - he’s Russian)

B) Which means Bucky, right? He’s the leader, he’s gonna take one for the team. Even tho if the press found out… Jesus, they’d have a field day. A 110 years old super soldier, (ex?)congressman, Captain America’s BFF, marrying a 20yo something, mentally ill, drug addicted ex felon who just happen to be a MAN. The headlines don’t even write themselves, they write, print and transport themselves to the shop near you before the day is even done. But Bucky will do it, of course he will, he’s stopped giving a damn ages ago. Even tho Sam and all his friends would be hurt because you never said anything and the press would probably dig and dig and dig and unearth anything and everything about Bob and hurt him more than he’s already hurt. Even though his reputation would be in tatters.

C) But do you know who doesn’t have a reputation to tatter? Who is such a joke that if press found out that he married a 20yo something, mentally ill, drug addicted ex felon who happens to be a MAN, it would be less of a field day and more of a chuckle day. The ‘of course’ day. The ‘yeah that tracks’ day. Well that would be John I’m Not Sure If He’s Got A Second Name Walker!

And John says he’ll do it, it’s literally the most logical choice, it’s literally the only choice. What are they gonna do, not let him see his kid even more than he’s already not allowed to see him now? Laugh harder? (Impossible). Nah. It has to be John. (And if part of him insists that it has to be him because that means that for once he’s useful and needed and that’s the thing only he can do and not anyone else and that means that maybe God did put him on this Earth for something other than constantly failing? That part may have a point, actually)

And so Bob and John get secret married and they don’t ever have to talk about it or act on it or anything.

Ok so maybe they do. Does the law states that the marriage has to be consumed to be legal? Well, that doesn’t seem correct but also does? None of them knows the law well enough to dispute or not dispute that. So maybe it would be a good idea to have sex once, just to be able to say they did and there’s no risk of any dissolving or anyone (Valentina, when she finds out) questioning the legitimacy or validity.

Ok and they should also probably move in. Just. You know. For legitimacy.

And if sex accidentally keeps happening then, I mean, it’s even better for the cover.

And if John falls in love with the Bob that’s not a big deal. That’s not a problem. Barely an inconvenience. It’s just another way to suffer and suffering is such an old friend that it’s hard to figure out which part is hurting anymore. At least this is the pain that says he’s doing something right. Right?

[nesiacha]

No, Olympe de Gouges Was Not Executed for Being a Feminist

As @mathildeaquisexta and @robespapier already explained so well in this post, let’s be clear once and for all: Olympe de Gouges was not executed because she was a feminist, nor for any misogynistic reason.

She was executed under suspicion of modérantisme—a political stance that did not necessarily imply opposition to executions or support for clemency—and more crucially, under accusations of counter-revolutionary activity. In her writings, she advocated either a return to constitutional monarchy or the establishment of a federal republic. Given the intense internal and external civil war at the time, such views were considered dangerously destabilizing. The Montagnards, under mounting pressure, resorted to increasingly harsh measures—something that does not excuse their actions, many of which were indefensible, but places them in a broader revolutionary context.

Some sources—though I’ve yet to locate them again, so this should be taken cautiously—even suggest that she may have called for Robespierre’s death. In any case, she was far from the saintly figure some portray her as.

Did Olympe de Gouges deserve to die? Absolutely not. Was her execution condemnable, especially from a human standpoint? Yes. But from a legal perspective—however flawed the laws may have been—her writings were seen as criminal and therefore her trial was not, strictly speaking, unlawful.

Her feminism itself was full of contradictions. She opposed revolutionary women taking up arms, for instance. An interesting detail: historian Mathilde Larrère pointed out in a video that when de Gouges rewrote Article 12 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen(La Déclaration des droits de l'homme et du citoyen) for her Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen (Déclarations des droits de la femme et de la citoyenne), she significantly altered its meaning.

Here is the original Article 12: "The security of the rights of man and citizen requires public military forces: these forces are therefore instituted for the benefit of all, and not for the personal use of those to whom they are entrusted."

Now Olympe's version: "The guarantee of the rights of woman and citizen requires a major utility; this guarantee must be instituted for the advantage of all and for the particular benefit of those to whom it is entrusted."

Where other revolutionary women were requesting weapons—and rightly so, given that they were at war—de Gouges stood firmly against it. At times, I can’t help but wonder if she wasn’t somewhat disconnected from the reality on the ground.

Yes, it's necessary to condemn lynchings, murders, and other excesses of the Revolution. But we must also avoid the "black legend" narrative that demonizes figures like the Montagnards, the CSP of the year II, Hébertistes, or the Enragés, just as we must reject the "golden legend" that romanticizes the Revolution. Much of the Revolution’s progress was driven by violent struggle: the storming of the Bastille, the fall of the Tuileries (which finally removed Louis XVI—a serious threat to the nation and the revolution because of his betrayal), or even the uprisings of enslaved Black people in the colonies.

These were violent acts—but how else could centuries of brutal oppression be overthrown? Enslavers were never going to relinquish power simply because someone asked nicely. The system itself was inventive in its cruelty and designed to resist any path toward Black liberation.

And yet, Olympe de Gouges, despite being an abolitionist, condemned the Haitian revolt in 1792. In a striking and disturbing passage from her play L'Esclavage des Noirs ou l'Heureux Naufrage, she directly addresses the enslaved and says:

"It is to you, now, slaves, men of color, that I am going to speak; I may have undeniable rights to condemn your ferocity: cruel ones, by imitating the tyrants, you justify them. Most of your masters were humane and kind, and in your blind rage, you do not distinguish innocent victims from your persecutors.

Men were not born for chains, and yet you prove they are necessary. If overwhelming force is on your side, why unleash all the furies of your burning lands? Poison, iron, daggers, the invention of the most barbaric and atrocious tortures cost you nothing, they say. What cruelty! What inhumanity! Ah! How deeply you make those groan who sought to prepare, through tempered means, a gentler fate for you — a fate more worthy of envy than all those illusory advantages with which the authors of France’s and America’s calamities have misled you.

Tyranny will follow you, as crime clings to those perverse men. Nothing will ever bring harmony among you. Fear my prediction — you know whether it is founded on true and solid grounds. I speak my oracles based on reason and divine justice. I do not recant: I abhor your tyrants; your cruelties fill me with horror »

Frankly, this is appalling. To suggest that enslaved people—who had endured horrors that defy comprehension—were just as bad as their oppressors is a cruel and absurd false equivalence when we know all the horrors of the slavery system and even if there were deaths on the other side who were truly regrettable, it is clearly not comparable. And what “tyrants” is she referring to? At the time, there was no formal revolutionary government in place in Saint-Domingue. There was no “major force” on their side. At that point in time, slavery had not yet been abolished, and the arrival of Sonthonax — a proponent of the gradual abolition of slavery — marked a turning point. One of the key factors behind the push for abolition was the execution of Louis XVI, which led some white royalist planters to seriously consider turning Saint-Domingue over to the British. In this context, the text appears, in my view, somewhat disconnected from the historical and political realities of the time.

In short, this is a deeply misjudged and insulting passage. That said, she's far from the only historical figure with contradictory views on slavery—Brissot and even Robespierre had their own problematic moments.

To her credit, de Gouges was lucid in other respects. She opposed the war that Brissot advocated, aligning instead—whether consciously or not—with Danton, Robespierre, and Billaud-Varenne, who foresaw the catastrophe it would bring. According to historian Antoine Resche, she supported constitutional monarchy but rejected the property-based voting system (suffrage censitaire).

Still, Olympe de Gouges was not widely known among revolutionary women of her time. Her Déclaration des droits de la femme et de la citoyenne (Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen) had limited impact. The true revolutionary womens "stars" were Théroigne de Méricourt, Pauline Léon, Claire Lacombe, Sophie de Grouchy, Louise Reine Audu, Manon Roland, Louise de Kéralio, Simone Evrard, Albertine Marat, the Ferning sisters, Rosalie Jullien, Sophie Momoro (as Goddess of Reason), Jeanne Odo, and perhaps Marguerite David ( of the group of Enragés).

In fact, it’s likely that de Gouges knew of these women, but not necessarily the other way around. Even after her execution, I’ve found almost no evidence of posthumous recognition during the revolutionary period.

From Year III to IV, women like Sylvie Audouin, Thérésia Tallien, Marie-Anne Babeuf, Sophie Lapierre, and possibly Élisabeth Le Bon (widow of Joseph Le Bon) gained more visibility — though Thérésia and Babeuf were probably more famous than Audouin or Lapierre. Still, Olympe remained largely absent from the collective memory ( at least to my knowledge). So she wasn't completely unknown, but her importance wasn't as great as some people would have us believe.

According to Mathilde Larrère, Olympe de Gouges only emerged from oblivion thanks to feminist Benoîte Groult, who revived her memory and her declaration. This was a fantastic move—it's always good to recover lost revolutionary voices.

But ironically, her legacy has since been co-opted by people who hold a very dark view of the French Revolution, some even veering toward counter-revolutionary ideals—because, yes, de Gouges was a staunch monarchist. Even worse, some who now praise her aren’t feminists at all, but use her image dishonestly to discredit the Revolution as a whole.

And the tragic twist? The women who were famous during the Revolution—Louise-Reine Audu, the Ferning sisters, Sophie Momoro, Marguerite David, Jeanne Odo, Rosalie Jullien, Sylvie Audouin, Sophie Lapierre, Marie-Anne Babeuf, Elisabeth Le Bon, Louise de Kéralio—have largely disappeared from collective memory. Others have been demonized or reduced to caricatures: Pauline Léon, Claire Lacombe, Simone Evrard, Albertine Marat.

Once again, my point is not to demonize Olympe de Gouges, but to highlight the problem of turning her into the only legitimate feminist voice of the French Revolution, while erasing or vilifying all others just because they held different political views.

If people genuinely want to honor Olympe de Gouges, they should portray her in full:

Her strengths—her opposition to property-based voting, her fight for the rights of children born out of wedlock, her courage in speaking out, her revolutionary spirit, her willingness to denounce Louis XVI’s betrayal despite her monarchist leanings.

And her flaws—her rejection of women bearing arms, her naivety about nonviolent change, her harsh and misguided condemnation of enslaved people fighting for their freedom.

She was sincere in her convictions, passionate about justice, and undoubtedly brave. But she was also human, with contradictions and limits like any of us.

One day, I hope to see a real film that portrays all the women of the French Revolution—regardless of their political alignment—without distortion or demonization.

[just-a-little-unionoid]

I've been wondering, do people outside of France know about the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen? (Declaration des Droits de l'Homme et du Citoyen, or DDHC in French)

'cause like, it's such a core part of my understanding of laws and moral as a whole, because I learnt it young, but it's also, something written in French two centuries and a half ago, and that would make sense if people outside of France weren't teached about it, y'know?

because like, if –and again it would be logical– people outside of France aren't raised to abide by those principes that would maybe explain some bonkers conversation I've had on the Internet...

so anyway, poll time!

(here's the most well known illustration of it in case some people are more visual about memory)

reblogs are appreciated, feel free to comment and precise a little which part of the world you are from, how you did learn about it (maybe this post?), what you think of those principles, or anything really, I'm curious

(btw here's a link to the Wikipedia article for people who don't know about it but are curious)

[borkunlimited]

Ordinary Days - Snippet

Away from the capital, Sylus leads the insurgency movement from the northern regions of the country with the help of a deer hybrid. Your presence made him all more convicted to his cause and when the war ends, he looks forward to the day you don't have to dig up sweet potatoes for breakfast anymore. A Deer Hybrid! Reader x Dragon Hybrid! Sylus Fic Summary: Gaining the favor of a war veteran to declare his support for the movement is difficult at is, much alone said war veteran is also your father. Tags: Sylus x Reader, Hybrid AU, Suggestive Themes, Fluff, Predator/Prey, Implied conflict Word Count: 977 words Author's Note:  Title is based on a fan comic by Silver from Pixiv. This isn't a series (yet) but more of a collection of snippets while I figure out how to outline this concept and I thought maybe I should share what I have while I am at it. Had elements from both Love and Deepspace and Arknights with some of my ideas blended in. Anyways, enjoy!

Favor, Not Easily Obtained

Patriot.

It is a title your father is most infamous of and Sylus grew up in the halls of Imperial Palace at Deity Grypherburg, the capital of Ursus, with that title spoken reverently even by high ranking officials themselves.

Unmatched.

Unparalleled.

Indestructible.

Your father led the Ursus Imperial Army to victory against many of its conquests several times without fail and you would be a fool to not run away when you see him from a distance leading the march, the antlers on his head coupled with his imposing stature is enough to make a rational man turn and go back from where they came. 

(Irrational ones will only realize they are on the losing end once the halberd of your father flying all the way from the other side of no man’s land pierces them right on their faces.)

Beloved hero of Ursus.

One would have thought the man would be at least amicable to be around with based on the tales that Sylus heard from the nannies that looked after him before they tucked him for the night coupled with the images he saw in books and in the paintings at the royal barracks but no-

-Your father is without a doubt, the most overbearing man he has ever met.

The old guard had never once spoken a word to him the first time you have introduced them to each other (Sylus would never understand how you don’t see the need to mention that your father is the war hero every citizen in Ursus loves on your way to the village where you live the first time you met) and even when they were here in the freezing tundra fighting side by side in a civil war that will make or break the country, the closest conversation Sylus ever had with him was a grunt.

A grunt.

That’s basically it.

Sylus had heard him talk to the soldiers and even the other villagers, his voice soft and replies clipped apparently because of his damaged larynx, and it will only increase volume when he is barking orders but to Sylus?

The least Sylus can get is a finger pointing to a pin on the map before reconnaissance and the best is a grunt.

Initially, Sylus does not see the need to bring this up to you because he doesn’t want you to play mediator on this matter, not when you already are between him and the common folk.

He had been educated well enough to know that you can earn the support of a battleworn veteran through action and that means-

-A demonstration of his military intellect and strength.

Even then, your father’s overbearing presence and scrutinizing gaze did not only stay in the battlefield but also in the village doubling as camp as well.

“Is there something bothering you, your highness?”, you asked, pausing from mending a tear on his coat, and Sylus only shook his head, wrapping his tail around your waist while simultaneously pulling you closer to his side.

The laughter of the children playing with the soldiers, the cackle of the bonfire, and the faint scent of food from the kitchens being prepared wafting all the way here was almost enough to soothe his worries regarding the possible outcomes of this civil war.

Almost enough because-

-He doesn’t have to turn around to see that your father’s eyes are trained at his back.

Word has it that your father deserted the Ursus Imperial Army for what the elites have done to your older brother and that distaste extends to anyone, anyone who is born with a golden spoon in their mouth which unfortunately, includes him.

It would take tremendous effort for the war veteran to support his cause and even more for Sylus to convince that he, the bastard prince of the Royal Family, does not see you as a passing fancy but something more.

Afterall, Sylus is more motivated than ever to reshape the country just for you.

“Didn’t I tell you there is no need for formalities, little doe?”

“Old habits die hard, your highness.”

“Then maybe I should help you practice saying my name, sweetheart.”

The tips of your deer ears always turn red on such comments, a shy smile on your lips, and Sylus was about to rub his horns against your antlers in amusement, a little routine between the two of you, when he heard the all too familiar grunt coming from your father observing you both from a distance-

-No, it wasn’t a grunt but a huff.

A huff of disapproval.

That’s new.

Yet, always the oblivious girl that you are, you continued what he is about to do instead and told him ‘If your highness try not to wound himself often, I’ll consider it’ then amidst the falling snow and the cold stare of your father, the kiss you placed on his cheek and your warmth that stayed on his coat with tears already mended superseded all of his worries.

It only occurred to Sylus as he followed you to the kitchens that it was the first time you did that in front of your father.

“I can beat up the prince for you, old man.”

“My daughter- Too naive-,” your father sighed, then turned to the one who spoke, a rabbit hybrid (The little girl you and your father picked up while you travelled to the northern regions of Ursus, now in her teens), “And you- Too rowdy-”

“Rowdy enough to punch his face just in case he breaks big sister’s heart.”

The war hero did not comment any further.

After all, he is still yet to declare his support to the young dragon’s cause and-

-He has not seen enough if this estranged prince indeed cares for you or if he is just like the bourgeois he had left behind in the capital.

────────────────────

Author's Note:  Big shoutout to @cygnuusss and to my friends for enabling me to write this. Once I am done writing the side story for Luke and Kieran, I will most likely move to this but for now, I'll probably keep posting these drabbles here and there. As always happy to share this with everyone here.