#i wrote this in a fit of rage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarifinasnightmare · 8 months

Text

VENARARE

I wrote this incredibly pissed off, so if you don't like this too much, whatever.

Rated: Mature

Summary: The Winter Soldier is a terrifying gladiator who doesn't care about the world, much less love anyone. Well we'll see about that.

The Winter Soldier was the greatest, most terrifying gladiator in the area. They say he got his name from his time as a soldier up in the north among the hairy barbarians and in the freezing cold had lost his mind and slaughtered an entire village single-handedly. When he came back to the city he still craved violence and bloodshed so he became a gladiator in order to slack his dangerous lusts.

When he appeared on the line-up people knew they were in for a show. He decimated his fellow gladiators, leaving them out cold or even dead out on the sand if the crowd didn’t protest quickly enough to spare them. If criminals needed to be offed, he’d do it cleanly, sending the head sailing before the fool even knew he was dead. The number of animals he’d killed rivaled the legendary Cop Offerus. He had even made a cloak of white wolf pelt that he’d skinned off the beast that had nearly gotten him.

In his mail skirt, greaves, the Winter Soldier wore a silver manica down his left arm that glittered ominously in the sunlight. What made him stand out from all the other strong, powerfully built Murmillo was his refusal to wear a helmet. His long hair curled around his ear, and he covered the lower half of his face. Why? Some said it was to emphasize the icy blue of his eyes, but he never explained himself to anyone. He cared about nothing and no one. He ate, slept, pissed, fought and fucked with the same expression on his face.

Since he was no slave, but a citizen and a former soldier, the ludus he called home had been obliged to pay him some share of his winnings. The lanista had at first scoffed at paying him anything, but with every successive win and his growing popularity he gladly paid him so he’d stay and not go off with another owner. That did not mean he could shirk his duties. During the observations, people would crowd, scared and intrigued as he paced around the cage like a beast looking for his next prey. Children were terrified of him, men were fascinated and the woman…it depended.

People wanted a piece of him, his sweat was highly prized, he’d been at many homes of wealthy patrons who wanted private demonstrations of his prowess, whether that was sword or cock it didn’t matter to him. Many thought that they could tame him, bring him to heel with their powers or their beauty, but he’d seen it all, done it all. They were all a bore and he plowed through them until they were little more than gasping whimpering lumps of flesh on their perfumed couches. The wives of ancient senators were his personal favorite bit of sport. There was a pleasure in knowing that while the arrogant assholes were congratulating themselves on being so superior in their lecture halls, he was in their houses fucking their wives stupid, spilling his seed into their cunts and filling them with his bastards. He knew of at least three so far. One of the women even went and brought the infant to him. Fat little thing, he wished the child well, knowing that the cuckolded husband had long desired an heir and now he had it, so he needn’t worry about it’s future. She thought she could gain his affection this way, but he wasn’t moved. Those women, those men meant nothing to him. They were the ones who craved him; he didn’t want them at all. They could all disappear, and he’d be fine. One day he’d put his sword down, collect his winnings and leave. Where? No one’s damned business.

On a hot day during a funerary tournament, amongst the sea of white, red and purple togas was the delicate splash of pink that caught his eye. The Winter Soldier had just been stopped from killing his opponent and had been basking in the light breeze that came through only to have a pink linen wrap around his ankle. He picked it up and could smell the faintly spiced fragrance. Looking around he saw a woman also in pink going to the edge of the arena in the hopes of catching her kerchief but then tugged down by her companion. She wore her veil over her braided head, but her face was unmistakable. For one she was Afri, but not a slave, a free woman, a maiden. In fact, she was amongst a small group of them. Merchant class if their clothes were any indication. Her skin was an unbroken, unblemished mahogany with a glossy shine to her cheekbones that made her look almost goddess like. Even from this distance, he could see how plump her lips were as well as the slight glimpse of snow white teeth. Fire suddenly bloomed from his loins at the sight of her.

She stared at him, noticing her linen in his hands, her fingers twitching as if aching to get it back. He stared back, wanting her to see as he brought the soft cloth to his nose to inhale her fragrance and upon finding it pleasing, he slipped it down to tuck under his skirt for safekeeping.

The maiden looked away, blushing furiously and the Winter Soldier’s lips curled slightly.

___________________---

Afterward he waited for her to appear, to ask for her linen back. Much to his disappointment, it was her companion who appeared; a blonde skinny thing, who came in with a slave and an escort. She requested the return of her friend’s linen. He refused.

“She values her chastity, and she can’t be seen in the company of…you.” She explained even as her eyes slid over him in a familiar path. “I however have no such problems seeing you…or you seeing me.”

Boring. He could make this slip of a maiden come in five minutes without even having to take his tunic off. “Then it stays with me. It smells so sweetly of its owner. Perhaps I’ll wear it as a favor during my tournaments.”

Unable to do anything else, the blonde left in a huff and the Winter Soldier sat down on a bench. He took the linen from his pouch and stroked the fabric, thinking of her and savoring the ache that she created in him.

_______________________---

Sarah was upset when her friend returned without the linen and with what he said. She heartily cursed her brother for going against their parents’ wishes and wanting to go see the gladiator tournament. As the sheltered daughter of a wealthy merchant, she’d never been allowed to see such a thing, their mother feared it would be too much for her to handle. Being stubborn and a bit rebellious, and egged on by her new friend Fabia, she decided to make her brother take them. Now because of her impulsive decision, her handkerchief was in the hands of the most dangerous gladiator in the arena!

“Why is it such a bother?” Fabia said in their shared room. “It’s just a little bit of cloth; there’s not even a mark to distinguish it as yours!”

“You don’t know my parents!” Sarah protested. “My mother is the goddess of discovery; she knows when something’s going on. She knows this color is my favorite and should your parents take my parents to the circus, and should she see that bit of pink she’ll get a feeling. Then the next thing I know she’ll pester my brother until he gives up the secret and I’m doomed!” She lays back on the couch and covers her face. “She’ll marry me off to the first fat, rich, old man in order to save my reputation!”

“Nothing a little poison in his wine can’t fix.”

“Fabia!”

The blonde shrugged. “Well if you can’t go to him, then I’ll just have to bring him to you.”

Sarah glared. “How?”

“My father is throwing a feast in honor of your father, right? So I’ll just do a little begging and insist that since us sweet little maidens can’t go to see the games if he’d hire a couple of the gladiators for a harmless exhibition to entertain the guests?”

“You can do that??”

The blonde scoffed. “I’m the only girl out of five sons and if his precious little darling wants to see the great Winter Soldier, then that’s what’s going to happen, so then while everyone is feasting, you can sneak over to him and get your linen.”

It was a crazy idea and the thought of being within reach of him made her shiver, but what else could she do? Sarah immediately agreed.

_______________________---

The Winter Soldier gave no thoughts about the party he and the rest of his companions were being sent to. It was pure entertainment, an exhibition only, so he didn’t care until he saw the older, dark-skinned matron standing next to her husband. Quicky, he saw the similar features to his pink maiden and realized that she might reside within. Now his senses were pricked, and his icy cold eyes darted around, taking in the layout as he carefully sought the slightest glimpse of her. They were taken to the slave’s quarters to prepar themselves until it was time for them to work. Some of the servant girls giggled and flirted with them and most were responsive, but not him. They weren’t the ones who shone like a black pearl in his mind.

“Where is Lady Sarah’s gown for tonight! Tell me it’s dry!” A black servant rushed in frantically.

“Here, here! Just came off the rack.” Another presented her with a folded white linen with green edges.

“Thank the heavens! She didn’t want to wear pink tonight for some reason.”

He appeared nonchalant as he listened to the little tidbits that they dropped for him. Sarah, her name is Sarah and she’ll be in a white and green dress. She’d wear no veil for the event as it was in a private residence, so he’d see the full scope of her beauty.

When they were finally taken to the grounds where he and the others would spar, he took a look around at the partygoers until he found her. She was seated next to the blonde at a small distance with the other women, but truly she shone like a pearl.

Roman men saw true beauty in pale white skin. Idiots to limit their views in such a way, because who could compare to the richness of Sarah’s dark skin? Her black hair was tressed up with cowrie shells and bits of gold. Her eyes were dark and sparkled like the night sky. She was a gorgeous, untouched beauty and his body abruptly ached with a want that nearly split him in two.

Suddenly he almost got walloped by a shield and he was forced to ignore her so as not to make a fool of himself. He wanted this fight to end quick, he didn’t care if he won or lost, he wanted to find her, go to her…

Briefly he caught a glimpse of her looking excited, the tip of her pink tongue peeking out and the frustrated rage that he couldn’t touch her made him charge against his opponent like a madman.

_____________________---

Sarah was nervous, during the mock battle the Winter Soldier fought like a beast unleashed, impressing the men and frightening the women. The other gladiators, groaning and aching were taken back to the servant’s quarters to relax, refresh and prepare in case they were wanted for other things. Now as the party continued, and the wine was being drunk to excess did she finally make her move to meet the great soldier.

Slowly one by one the Winter Soldier’s companions became otherwise occupied but no one called for him, then the black maid from earlier whistled to him and gestured for him to follow. It was time. Wordlessly he followed her. His body tightened in anticipation, he couldn’t help it and then there she was.

Sarah emerged from a darkened corner and gasped to see him suddenly less than foot away from her. He didn’t hesitate to shorten the distance between them until her back was pressed against the wall.

“Please don’t kill me, I just want my handkerchief.” She said breathlessly.

She was taller than he imagined, but that only made her more goddess like and the scent of her was sweeter than the bit of linen had implied. “I’m not going to kill you…” he touched her satin cheek with rough fingertips, “…why would I harm such perfection?”

Heat bloomed on her face and she looked down modestly. “I never knew soldiers could flatter.”

“They don’t, most are brutes who take what they want.” His thumb delicately stroked her lower lip and she shivered. The heat on her face now spread through her chest and further down her body.

“Like you did with my linen?” she managed to say softly. “I need it back.”

“You want me to give back what the gods decided was now mine?” He chided gently.

“It was the wind, not the gods.” She countered and carefully grabbed his wrist, drawing his inquisitive fingers away so she could think clearly. He was handsomer than she first thought, and those blue eyes weren’t cold, but warm, almost burning. “Please, my mother would be furious if she suspected I am here with a man…”

“I too would be furious to see you with a man.” He growled, taking her hands in his, finding her fingers long, but soft. “The thought of anyone touching you…” Dipping down he inhaled the perfume before kissing her knuckles.

He was too much, and she shuddered, overwhelmed. “Why are you so determined to keep my kerchief?”

“Because it is yours and when I touch it I feel as if I’m touching you.”

Goosebumps broke out and her heart skipped a beat. “What’s your name?”

“Hm?”

“Your name? I can’t call you soldier.”

“James.” He revealed softly.

The way he softened a bit when he revealed that to her was so charming. Perhaps he was not the beast he played to be. “If you wish to have a part of me so much then let me offer an exchange. If I give you another linen of mine, one my mother won’t recognize in exchange for the pink one, would you accept?”

The pink one had since lost its scent. “Only if given by your hands, Sarah.”

The butterflies fluttered within. She went with her maid to get the cloth and quicky returned with a soft white linen of the same size. Making sure they were still unseen she rejoined the gladiator in the darkened corner. He watched her, large and silent, as she approached him. With great tenderness she brought the linen to her lips for a gentle kiss, then offered it to him.

“As promised from my own hands to you, James.”

He bypassed the linen, grabbed her wrist and pulled her suddenly into his arms. He was a wall of muscle and heat, his blue eyes blazing into hers, catching her breathless.

“Is this linen the only way I will ever know the taste of your lips?”

“Is that all you crave?” She asked, as her hands rested over his shoulders, touching a man for the first time and finding the shape of his lips suddenly incredibly compelling.

“Sarah if I had my way I’d lay you out before that statue of Venus and teach you pleasures that send you to the stars.”

Seduced beyond understanding, she parted her lips and he claimed them, his tongue sliding in to awaken hers to this new form of pleasure. Passion scorched them to the bone as they kissed until they were panting desperately for more.

“My lady! My lady!” Her maid hissed. “Your mother’s looking for you!”

“No,” she whimpered, drawing away. “James I need to-”

“You’ve ruined me,” he growled, letting her go, but not before giving her the pink cloth back.

He watched her go, disappear back into the party full of people who’d keep her clean and pure and far away from men like him.

“Fuck you,” he said to no one in particular, then took the new white linen and pressed it to his nose, inhaling her scent.

____________________----

A fever had broken inside of him and there was no quenching it. It made him irritable and soon people gave him a wide berth. He threw himself into his battles, needing to burn the energy and when that wasn’t enough, he fucked his way through a succession of wives, leaving them gasping and bowl-legged.

But when he closed his eyes, it was Sarah on his mind and the kiss that snatched his soul and bound him to her. Sometimes he’d wake up from a nocturnal emission frustrated and full of longing.

In another part of the city Sarah was struggling with her own desires. His kiss left her aching, throbbing for more of what he promised. She wanted to see the stars, she wanted James to take her there.

“What is wrong with you?” Fabia whined as they walked through the gardens. “All you’ve done for a while is look out into the distance and sigh to yourself. Did your parents tell you something?”

“Well yes. My mother said when we go back home they’re going to start looking for a husband for me, but I knew that would happen soon…It’s just…I think of him…”

“Him?? There’s a him??” The blonde grinned and embraced her excitedly. “Who is it? How did you even meet him?”

Sarah hesitated for a moment. “It’s the Winter Soldier…when I asked for the linen back we spoke…and he kissed me.”

“You kissed the most terrifying gladiator in all of Rome! Sarah you’re mad!”

“He’s not terrible. He’s not terrible at all…Oh Fabia the feelings I’ve had in my stomach, in my heart…”

She clicked her tongue in sympathy. “Oh Sarah, Cupid has struck you.”

“I wonder if he feels the same? It’s been weeks.” She looked over the walls in the direction of the coliseum.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Fabia smiled cunningly.

“Fabia you’re insane!” She guessed.

“Do you wish to see him? Then be brave! True lovers will risk anything.”

Sarah was frightened of the consequences of her parents’ wrath, but the temptation was too strong, and she acquiesced.

___________________---

The Winter Soldier sat at the bench, thoughtfully chewing on his bread, ignoring the crowd that watched him and the other gladiators feast before their fight. He heard in the distance men shout their bets and exchange coins. He knew many were putting money on him, confident in his win. He thought of his share of the money, which has grown considerably.

A pebble suddenly landed on his plate. He looked over, irritated until he noticed it was Sarah’s maid. Realizing what that meant, his gaze darted around until he spotted her. She was escorted, an umbrella covering her from the sun, her veil properly in place, but it was her unmistakably. She came to see him but dared not approach, not with all the other gawkers. Her eyes moved around him, seeking. He pulled out the white linen kerchief and she smiled sweetly. She tapped her chest three times and pointed at him; her heart was glad to see him.

“My mistress wants to see you-” Suddenly one of the spectators tried to take liberties with the maid. Furious he grabbed him by his garment and yanked him violently against the steel bars. The fool fell into a heap, and everyone gave him a wide berth. Before the coliseum guards could pull him away, he listened to the maid finish. “-tonight by the west gate of your ludus.”

As the guards yanked him away he looked Sarah in the eyes and nodded.

_________________------

The whole day was torture for him. He’d fought like a god, knowing that the end of the day he would see his goddess again. The west gate of the ludus was least watched, mostly because it led to nowhere, only thick brush and rocky hills. However they were still locked and bars were solid, yet that didn’t diminish their reunion.

Sarah wore a black cloak, her maid and guard at a safe distance keeping watch, so they didn’t stop them as they kissed between the iron bars. The Winter Soldier was desperate to wrap his arms around her waist and pulled her as tight as the barriers allowed. Sarah cupped his dear face and kissed him fiercely.

“One kiss and I’m yours, James. What have you done to me?” She panted.

“Say it to me again. Tell me you’re mine, Sarah.” He commanded, his hands caressing, seeking.

He found her breasts and cupped them, making her hard little peaks bloom with desire. “I want to be yours, I dream of being yours.”

“The way I’ve starved for you. The way I’ve suffered from the lack of you.” He replied, “No woman nor man has tortured me as you have.”

The primal urge surged throughout her body, begging her to shed her clothes and let it fulfill it’s sacred duty with this man. “I want you to take me to the stars, James. Take me there before my husband does.”

The words stopped him dead. “Husband?”

“My family is leaving in a few weeks.” She revealed softly. “They plan to find me a husband.”

No, no! Is this a cruel joke by Venus to present a woman that finally awakened his soul only to snatch her away and give her to some pompous idiot who would only see her as a broodmare?

“I will go mad.” He said gruffly.

“And I will yearn for you for the rest of my days.” She replied. “Please.”

He could not deny her. “Send your maid to me in three days. I will tell her where we shall meet.”

____________________-----

The three days felt like years to Sarah, but she quietly prepared for their eventual joining. Fabia smuggled in oils and perfumes, helped her groom herself and arranged her clothes. Her mother noticed the change and commented on it.

“Fabia was showing me some new cosmetics.” she said shyly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s different, but it makes me think of what we’ll plan for when you get married. I’ve already ordered some new fabrics for dresses and ordered some stones…”

“Do you think I’ll be married off so fast, Mama? Or is that you want me to go?”

Her mother looked sad. “No! No, my darling it’s just…the relatives think we’ve been holding onto you for too long and that all this traveling will leave you restless and open to mischief. Don’t worry, I won’t have you given away so quickly. We will make sure your husband is a good man who will take good care of you, I promise.”

“And if I fall in love, Mama?”

“Then we will make sure he is worthy of that love.” She promised as well.

That night Sarah thought of her mother and her promise, but it didn’t dissuade her. With maid and guard beside her, she stole into the Roman night to meet with her true lover.

___________________---

By the temple of Venus there was a garden built by one of those snobby senators in order to win more points with the citizens. Of course, he built himself a little villa that overlooked it that only he could use. Luckily, said senator was off doing some pompous bullshit down south so the villa was empty. The Winter Soldier knew when he brought Sarah inside. He cleaned it a little and prepared the bedroom for his maiden. There were only a few oil lamps, but it was just enough for them to see each other as they undressed for the first time.

He never wore much to begin with, but what he revealed to her was shocking to say the least.

“Will that…in me?” She murmured breathlessly.

“I will be gentle.” He promised as he approached her and gently touched the cord around her waist. “May I?”

She nodded and only trembled slightly as the cord fell to the floor and her gown was slowly lifted from her body.

He had seen and fucked so many types of bodies, but hers, hers was without rival. Formed from the finest clay, glossy like satin, designed to make his mouth water.

“Is this pleasing?” she asked and gasped softly when he picked her up and effortlessly carried her to the bed. He hovered over her for a moment before bathing her in kisses.

“Gorgeous, radiant, divine….” He mouthed against her skin, “….the gods wept when they made you.”

He caressed her everywhere and made her feel glorious. When his tongue lapped her intimate place, she was momentarily repelled until new ecstasy caused her to cry out for more. She ran her fingers through his hair and pleaded with him to never stop.

Drunk with the taste of her, he pleasured her, teased her until the sweet music of her cries filled the air and she experienced her first climax. Taking advantage of her fresh slickness, he moved up between her long legs and placed the throbbing head of his shaft against her opening.

“I dedicate our joining to Venus, to guide me in showing you the true love between us and show you the delights of the celestial heavens.”

She knew there would be some pain, so the burn and the stretch didn’t scare her. She did her best to relax and moaned when James stroked her tender nerves, mingling pleasure with pain. It was a marvel that he could fit so perfectly inside her and by the time their roots met, she felt positively stuffed.

“Oh…”

James braced himself over her, sweating, her virgin sheath so good that it was killing him not to move. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…I’ve never felt anything like this….” She suddenly gave him a smoky smile. “I like it.”

“Sweet gods,” he whined, bowing his head in utter defeat as his hips rebelled against his control and began to move.

Sarah wrapped her arms around him and held his muscular body against hers as they gave in to the primal urge that stirred from the first look. There was no shame between them as they kissed, licked, caressed and moved as one. Black and white flesh mingled and rolled around in the sheets as they fought to draw out the pleasure for as long as they could.

James could not take his eyes off her, loving how she gleamed with pleasure, how the sweet scent of her mingled with their sex and then there was her unrestrained moans. She didn’t screech or howl like a whore determined to put on a good show. Her breathless, needy whines were of genuine joy and his own soon broke free, groans that were as deep as the pleasure churning in his loins, threatening to shatter him.

“James, James, I love you, I love you!” She cried out as the wave of delight crested over her body, threatening to drown her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she forced him deeper and shuddered helplessly.

He was lost, lost in the tight heat of her and then she squeezed, flaying him with ecstasy. “My love, my love!”

The stars burst before them, and Venus blessed them with joy.

__________________---

They could not meet again for another interlude, although the gods knew they wanted to. Too quickly her family was packing their belongings from Fabia’s family’s residence and then she’d be on a ship heading back home.

Sarah did her best to come close to the Coliseum as often as she could, claiming that she wanted to walk it a few more times before leaving. James was there behind his iron bars waiting for her, staring at her as if he could make love to her from his gaze alone.

On the last day she came in her pink gown and dared to approach the bars. He grabbed her hands and dared to openly kiss them.

“I will be a good wife to my husband. I will run his house and give birth to his children, but my heart and soul will forever be yours James. Know this, believe this.”

He nodded and tried to speak. “I’ve been cold for so long. All my life I’ve felt nothing until I saw you. I, who have never prayed to the gods now beg them to reunite us in the end.”

She nodded, fighting back tears and thrust her original pink linen into his hands before turning away to go.

He watched her go, clutching the bars that he suddenly hated more than life itself. He gripped them until he was white knuckled and screamed at the injustice of it all.

Sarah heard the scream down to her bones and cried quietly in her bed as they sailed away.

_____________________----

The Winter Soldier was colder and meaner than ever on and off the arena. His companions at the ludus avoided him like the plague as all he wanted to do was drink, sleep and fight. He rejected the advances of former paramours, refusing to befoul the memories of Sarah with their filth.

She should be back home by now, no doubt picking out fabrics and jewels for her wedding day with her mother. Anger flooded him and he slammed his cup of wine down harshly, causing it to spill over.

“It’s a waste of food, soldier.”

He glanced over and saw that it was Sarah’s blonde little friend. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“When does a slave get to speak to me that way?”

“I’m not a slave, I’m a freeman! I’m here of my own free will!” He snapped.

She arched a brow. “Oh really? Then what’s stopping you from leaving the arena, sailing across the ocean and paying Sarah’s bride price?”

“I don’t have enough to do that….to provide for her and give her what she deserves.” He muttered.

“Bah, I bet you could earn more than enough in a single fight.” She countered. “If you wanted to, but I suppose a soldier like you only takes orders.”

Bullshit! Everything he’d ever done was because he wanted it, but Sarah had her wants too.

“She’s determined to do right for her parents. I cannot ruin that for her.” He argued.

“She slept in the same room as I and her tears for you were endless. Her heart and soul are broken without you. Do you really wish for her to be so miserable?”

No, and to know that she had been so unhappy made him angry. Why did Venus give him a taste of real love only to cut it off so abruptly? Was it his punishment for treating it so lightly before? Or was she perhaps offering him the chance to prove that he had changed and would risk it all?

“Find me a ship.” He said suddenly, standing up.

“For when?” She asked.

“Three days. It’s all I need.”

______________----

Sarah was glad to be home of sorts. They all arrived safely but her mother became very sick so all concerns were about her recovery. The matron had insisted that they continue with the matchmaking, but Sarah had firmly refused to even consider thinking about her happiness while her mother was in such a state. Relatives would accuse her of being selfish and unfilial.

Finally, when her mother was healthy enough to move around once more did she reluctantly agreed to start looking for a husband. There were plenty of men put forward by relatives insisting that they would be perfect for her. She doubted it.

It turned out the fussiest person in the groom selection process was not Sarah, but her father. He loved his son, but also doted on his daughter and wanted to make sure that the man for her was good, hard working, fearless and rich…very rich. It frustrated her mother to no end when he rejected nearly all the men when they tried to negotiate the bride price. He wanted a hundred head of cattle, goats and sheep, servants to take over their daughter’s former responsibilities, plus some jewels for his wife. There were some men who could do it, but wondered if the merchant’s daughter was worth so much.

“Hey,” Samuel disturbed her and her mother from their weaving, “a new suitor just showed up and he’s Roman. He’s talking to father right now.”

“What?” Both women were shocked and rose to investigate.

Rushing to the main sitting area, Sarah nearly collapsed when she saw that it was none other than James! Except he wasn’t dressed like a gladiator, but a Roman citizen.

Meanwhile James saw her enter and it was as if he had been given water from paradise. He offered her a small smirk before turning back to her father.

“Your daughter is a pearl without price, but I am willing to pay for her to be my wife.” He said firmly.

“I am surprised that you are here making such a request when I don’t even know you.” Her father asked.

“I was a common soldier who joined the legion and fought the barbarians up in the frozen north. I then became a gladiator because after all the ugliness and horror I saw I didn’t care what happened in the world. I was the Winter Soldier and my life was meaningless until I saw your daughter.”

Sarah blushed and her mother studied her. “You know this man, Sarah?”

“I do, Mama. I know him as James.” She admitted, her heart beating fast.

“When she left I wanted to die, but then someone reminded me that I had the choice and the means to get her back.” He then explained how he took his life savings and bet it all to win one of the largest, winner take all gladiator battles exhibited at the arena. There were no less than thirty pairings and winners kept fighting until only one stood standing, then the leaders decided to throw in a few tigers just for fun. By the end of it, he had been battered, bruised, bleeding and exhausted beyond belief. The only thing that gave him courage was the pink linen tucked on his belt, for her he’d fight until the end and he nearly did. His reward finally? He was rich beyond belief, so finally he dropped his sword, took his money and sailed across the sea to find the only one who would make him happy.

“Sarah, be my wife. Run my house, bear my children and I will love you with a flame that will shame the sun.”

“Yes!” She cried out, running and throwing her arms around him before anyone could stop her. To be in each other’s arms after believing that they never would again was intoxicating.

The family was then shocked to see them kiss with a passion that only lovers could have.

Her father cleared his throat sharply. “Sir…the bride price?”

James drew back, his eyes fixed on Sarah’s joyous expression. “Name it, name your price. I’ll give you Rome itself.”

The family matron gave her husband a knowing look and the man sighed understanding. “Rome will not be necessary, but we can negotiate the bride price into something reasonable so long as you promise to make my daughter smile as brightly as she is now.”

In the end her father got his hundred head of livestock, her mother got a small casket of jewels and Sarah sought out the most beautiful fabrics for her wedding dress.

Sam helped his new brother-in-law find a house worthy of his sister and arranged it to her liking. When the ceremony, rituals, and feasting was done, James took his beloved wife over the threshold of their new home and brought her to bed. There their passion was unleashed once more as their bodies mingled on the marital bed. James feasted on her like a man starved and she saw the heavens every time they joined.

“I’m yours, yours completely.” She murmured sleepily as they lay sated in their bed.

“My wife,” he replied pulling her close, desiring her warmth. “I loved you at first sight.”

They had an altar to Venus built and tied around the wrist for safe keeping was the pink kerchief.

#bucky barnes #sarah x bucky #sarahbucky #sarah wilson #fleur de louve #fatws #gladiator #i wrote this #in a fit of rage #by the time I was done I kind of exhausted #I'm a little better now

9 notes · View notes

cheetah-roll · 4 months

Text

Just letting you guys know, I think that the most important things in this post are the last 3 1/2 paragraphs. Everything above is still, just as important, but it is mostly me just ranting. If you want to read the point that I'm trying to get across, just skip to there. Would still appreciate it though if you read everything however.

------------

I went to a funeral prayer for a man who lost 10 family members in Gaza. Ten. Please think about that for a second. Ten lives is ten lives too many. Ten people is practically my whole family, on my mothers side at least. Ten people is my grandparents, aunts and uncles. The twins and Baby Grace. Ten people, is literally all of my friends, plus my sister, gone. No one should lose that many people in such a short amount of time. No one should even lose one person to outright mvrd3r and g3n0c1d3. And we’ve lost thousands of people. Thousands of innocent men, women, and children, and for what? To claim a land that wasn’t even yours to begin with? A land that you’ve slowly taken over, over a course of 75 goddamn years?

I’ve been well aware of what’s been happening in Palestine since before October 7th. This conflict didn’t start then. It’s been going on since 1948. For years, the Palestinian people have been pushed from their homes, attacked, and killed. They welcomed the Jews into their land after the H0l0c@u$t. Giving them a home. A place to live, and feel a sense of safety. Instead, their land was taken over by people who didn’t even belong there in the first place.

I$r@3l has tried to erase Palestine. They have tried to make it seem as if it never even existed. That there has only ever been I$r@3l. Well, it can’t. Palestine has always been here. It’s in your goddamn bible. One of the world's oldest churches was destroyed. Why aren’t people upset? Jesus Christ was born in Palestine. Look it up. He was born in Bethlehem. Does it say that Bethlehem is in I$r@3l? Well, forget that. Bethlehem was a part of Palestine before I$r@3l took it over. There is proof. Jesus was Palestinian. You're literally destroying his birthplace. His home. If you love Jesus so much, maybe think about that shit before you blindly start following every stupid Zionist, western, colonist nation there is. Stupid colonists who think that they have the right to just waltz right into any country they please, rob them of their resources, mess up their systems, destroy their land, and just leave. And then, years later, they complain about how corrupt those nations are. How uncivilized, and impure. You’re the reason they’re like this! You think that you have the right to do whatever you please? Well you DON’T. YOU are the ones who put these corrupt people in power. My homeland is messed up because of these stupid colonist nations. These countries may be corrupt, but at least we’re not like America or Britain. At least we didn’t force Native Americans from their land. The land that was rightfully theirs. At least we didn’t k!ll them all. Right, cause that was fucking America. At least we didn’t capture and enslave generations of African Americans. At least we didn’t drop TWO ATOMIC BOMBS on Japan! You’ve gone and messed up everything that you’ve touched. So many groups have lost so much, or now have health problems or are facing poverty because they still carry the weight of what you did to them.

Another thing that I would like to point out, which I’ve been told is now common knowledge, but I’m not too sure that enough people know about it. 9/11 was an inside job. It was all planned by the US. They hijacked their own planes. The people flying them were most likely forced or were offered money or some shit. The whole point of 9/11 was to get an excuse to attack Iraq and rob it of its resources. Because America just COULDN’T STAND another country having all that oil. So, they took it for themselves. They STORMED into Iraq, killed so many people, stole their resources, and then left, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. 9/11 caused a huge wave of Islamophobia in the US. Muslims were sent to jail for no apparent reason. Muslims were killed. We were feared. We were called terrorists. A security guard had to walk my mother and other Muslim students to their cars so they wouldn’t get attacked. People were so afraid of us, but really, we were the ones in danger. All this, just so the US could get some oil. Now, because of what’s happening in Palestine right now, Muslims and Arabs are more at risk. I don’t want to be afraid that the mosque I grew up going to will have ugly, red words sprayed onto its glorious walls. I don’t want to feel scared of my visibly Muslim mother going out one day and never coming home. I don’t want my beautiful religion to be tarnished by the hate and ignorance of others.

I was talking to my mom one day. I asked her if we could hang a Palestinian flag outside our door. She took my hands in her own, looked me in the eyes, and with such resignation and certainty, she told me that if we did that, we were going to get killed. Hearing your own mother say that? That’s scary. Its fucking terrifying. That tiredness in her voice is something that I never want to hear ever again. And the sad part is, I know that she’s right. If we did that, our chances of getting murdered right on our front doorsteps would skyrocket.

I feel like I’m living in some kind of dystopian, alternate reality. People are dying. You can see it on TV, read about in the newspaper, but no one is doing anything to help. People are just going on with their lives as if a genocide is not happening right at this very moment. They don’t care. Why isn’t this on the forefront of our goddamn minds? Are the lives of millions of people not worth talking about? Is their safety and their future not as important as your own? The people of Palestine are fighting for their lives right now. They don’t have access to food, water, or electricity. They are stuck in an open air prison, with bombs dropping directly on their heads at any given moment. They have been deprived of basic human rights and their dignity. How is any of this okay? How is the murder of thousands of innocents something that people are choosing to actively ignore? This isn’t okay. This has never been okay. And yet, it happens time and time again. Over, and over, and over. An endless loop of oppression, hate, and bigotry. When will history stop repeating itself? When will we learn?

I know that people have been speaking up about what has been happening recently. So many people have been showing their support, which I appreciate a lot. It makes me so happy to see people that I look up to speaking out about injustice and doing their part. I really hope that things will get better. For the people of Palestine, and for the world. A world where I’m judged for the God I worship, the people I choose to love, my gender, the color of my skin, and even for the way I think and perceive my surroundings, is not a world I want to be living in. I want to live in a world where I’m respected. A world where my choices, and my views, and my life is valued just as much as the next person. So please, do your part helping to end the occupation. Every little thing counts. Post about it, boycott companies, donate, please, just do something. Standing by and doing nothing will not solve anything. If you think that your small contribution won’t make a difference, you’re wrong. Your life matters. Your help will make a change. We can do it.

And with that, I will be signing off. I hope my questionable writing skills helped to inspire at least one person. Stay safe everyone, and do your part.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!!

4 notes · View notes

typingfool · 6 months

Text

I can sleep in a bed full of clothes, but I can't sleep in a house full of hatred. If someone loves you, they will not go the length to make you feel unloved, unworthy, uncared, unforgiving I can't sleep in the soft mattress, for it retches in the smell of anger: a Father's anger: a Mother's ravage: I can sleep in a bed with no mattress, just wood.

Even trees hold more peace when they're dead, than you have held in the time of your wake.

4 notes · View notes

pencil-amateur · 7 months

Text

noticed some similarities between eddie from rocky horror and beef from phantom of the paradise. flashy performers who got one song then fucking died and then got a song about how much they sucked (but still ended up being fan favorites)

#when I learned 'the hell of it' was supposed to be played at beef's funeral I was like DAMN... the disrespect #though it does fit in with the theme of people liking musicians more after they bite it lol #and probably would have served as good foreshadowing for swan's evil plan if it hadn't had to have been cut for time #I do feel it fits swan more though so I'm glad it ended up being played over the credits #what I wonder is did winslow have that song already written for his cantata #or did he write it specifically because he was pissed someone besides phoenix was singing his music?#it was probably the former but the idea of him going into a rage state and writing those lyrics is really funny #though it would be even funnier if he wrote it about swan and swan was like 'huh. I wonder who that's for B)'#phantom of the paradise

6 notes · View notes

covenofthearticulate · 2 years

Note

Did we ever end up finding out why Bryan Fuller left the project?

No idea!!

Most articles will link you to the original breaking source of this article from the Nerdist but there were never any official reasons given :/

#i'm also like. unreasonably upset at the reminder that chris wrote a whole ass pilot for tvl #sometimes i will randomly remember that and it throws me into a fit of abominable rage #we could've had it all #we were so close #*blows a kiss to the sky* for the wolf killer lestat pilot

11 notes · View notes

hoediaz · 2 years

Text

about to be a bitch here’s your warning for $10 i will shut up and for $20 i will leave my rage cage and never go back in but it is very obvious that some people on this website have constructed a spine entirely out of the damp toilet paper clumps teenagers throw at their school bathroom’s ceilings and as a result any perceived slight against them real or imagined is enough to kill them on impact which, if they were honest, which of course they never will be, is exactly what they intended because the only way anyone will pay attention to them is if they’re the wounded morally superior victim of a heinous crime that never happened

#bitch tag #sorry this is the internet i can and will close this tab and forget all about it #but i have been exceedingly nice for way longer than some people deserved #i wrote this in a fit of rage i dont remember typing any of this but i WILL be hitting send #and then i'm going to have a real life outside of this website and that's much more than some of you can say <3 #also if anyone EVER makes **** or ***** anxious EVER again i will do something so heinous and unrecognizable #i will end up on the national news #anyway. ok.#txt

5 notes · View notes

spushii · 2 years

Text

ignore.me

#rannebles #i wrote this in a fit of rage i needed to calm myself down from several problems in the world and my.life #it is separate from my other fic and i also dont know if i will ever complete it to a publishable degree #so have this^

4 notes · View notes

nanoa1foryou · 2 years

Text

I don't care about the walls

You can press that button how ever many times you want. It does nothing.

I guess you're like those rats in their cages. Nothing else to do but the button. It's a drug to you now. But it's not my drug.

It does nothing.

I haven't seen you around before. I remember everyone I see. I haven't ever seen you. Are you new here?

You keep pressing the button.

I wonder if you think it's like a doorbell. If it'll alert me to your presence. It won't. All it does is give you the drug.

It does nothing.

Have you ever met a person? A real one? I have. It's great fun. That’s what I’m here for. I like people. I like them a lot. I wonder if you're even a real person.

You just keep pressing the button.

It does nothing.

Your presence irritates me. I can see now, that you're new here. That you've never met a real person. You're here because the button is new and shiny.

Did the old drugs get old? You needed too high of a dose to get your high? Here it's new and exciting and you just keep pressing the button.

When will you learn?

It does nothing.

I'm here for people. So are so many others. Why did you come here? This space isn't for you. It was our safe space that you've infected. You've so infected our space that it's starting to break apart!

When will you wake up? See that there is no drug? That you're getting high off your own addiction, and not anything real? When will you see?

it does nothing.

It doesn't matter anymore.

None of it does.

I care about people. I really do. I love them. I love the little hellos. The eye contact shared when passing by. When new people show up and when they move on. Some I'll see again. Some are just gone.

You're not even a person. You're just the manifestation of the addiction. The thing that'll break everything.

Piece by piece, you’re building your drug here. If you just keep pressing the button it'll eventually start working. Eventually it'll infect us all.

You're killing us.

It does nothing.

When will you learn?

it does nothing.

You just keep pressing the button.

It does nothing.

I don't care about you. No one here does. We're here for real people. You're here for the mannequins. The fake ones. The ones that manifest themselves as the drug.

I don't care about you. You don't care about me. You only think you do. You're so out of it.

I wish I could wake you up. Shake you out of it. If I keep talking, maybe you'll become more real. Maybe you can be a person again.

I keep talking to you.

it does nothing.

#Wrote this in a fit of rage to get myself to calm down #I really like this #as always feel free to reblog or reply if you want to #nanoa1forme #creative writing #my writing #original writing #writerblr #emotions are weird #sometimes feelings are difficult #my poetry #poetry #these thought excersizes are fun!

2 notes · View notes

nexus-nebulae · 7 hours

Text

found my ancient mp3 player recently. finally found a charger for it and plugged it in. and remembered i found a yt playlist of the whole httyd movie chopped up into like 20 videos and i downloaded the mp3s of all of them to listen to on the school bus. which is why i can effortlessly quote the whole first movie now

#i was. unhealthily obsessed with that whole franchise #oh my god i just remembered i used to write rise of the brave tangled dragons fanfic oh my god 😭#i didn't publish much but i had an irl friend also in the fandom and we shared a quotev account to publish stuff together #i still remember the full name she used online #we both used our main characters names online- Rosa and Sara #though i sometimes went by Jenny bc canonically Jenny was Sara's name before she changed it the second she wasn't on earth anymore #(<- EGG. EGG. EGG. EGG.)#(like legit the second she got isekaid she cut her hair super short and changed her name-)#also sara canonically had the ability to absorb others' souls when they died and then shapeshift into them majoras mask style #(<- EGG CARTON. EGG CARTON. EGG CARTON. EGG CA #sara was dating jack frost bc of fucking course she was. also she had fire magic #Rosa was with Hiccup #and then we had another fic with Kate and Billie who were sisters #years after me and the irl friend stopped talking and i reworked the characters into their own original stories #Billie ended up in a lesbian relationship with a girl named Raven #and they ended up finding Billie's long lost infant sister and raising her like their own kid almost #also i say i wrote RoTBTG fanfic but honestly. i did not care much for tangled back then #i included Rapunzel because i didn't want to seem petty like i was just cutting out the girl i didn't like #bc i did like her just not enough to write her #but she never like. Did Anything #if anything she was usually stuck talking about politics with Stoick and meridas parents and couldn't adventure much #such is the life of a royal i reasoned . so i do not have to have her there and be bored by her #usually i replaced her in the quartet with fucking Melody from little mermaid 2 bc i was unreasonably obsessed with that since childhood #i watched little mermaid 2 before the actual first film because we owned the vhs and i was SO obsessed with melody i LOVED her #i also wanted to become a mermaid and loved singing #so i just. found ways to shoehorn her in #i do not remember everything that i posted and everything that stayed in the vault #bc when me and that irl stopped talking we both deleted Everything in a fit of 14 year old rage and pettiness #I've long since deleted the quotev account- she actually kept using it for years and i let her cause i wasn't THAT petty #but it was under my email and since i noticed she seemed to have abandoned it and i needed to delete the email. it is now gone

1 note · View note

kneelingshadowsalome · 7 months

Note

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint. A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none.

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any.

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute.

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need?

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir.

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven.

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago.

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus.

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy.

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away.

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home.

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard.

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube.

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her?

And god, how he would fuck her…

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob.

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of.

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things?

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all.

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job.

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up.

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb.

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for…

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically.

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present.

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear."

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways.

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying.

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too.

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty.

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening?

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress.

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin.

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries.

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams.

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin.

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined.

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds.

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for.

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child...

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...?

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft.

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go.

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove.

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…"

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness.

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had.

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely.

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog.

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck.

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content.

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity.

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women.

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one.

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in.

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs.

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him.

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?"

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy.

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes.

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets.

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his.

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise.

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness.

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #yandere könig #tw: dark content #könig smut

4K notes · View notes