──── Marcellus┆Wife's favor author’s note: I am in love with this series, I wanna write like ten more chapters lmaoo This work contains: ancient rome (obviously), reader is Gaius and Livia’s daughter, arranged marriage, incest (?) since Gaius is Marcellus’ uncle, mention of childbirth, mother-daughter angst, smut, p in v, breeding (not exactly a kink), needy sex, mention of past encounters, Livia's scheming, scheming in general, some political talk so have your wikipedia open lol Marcellus x wife!reader mdni
It was raining, you heard the quiet splattering of the drops outside, on the stone streets as you laid awake in your bed. It was still early — the sun was not visible yet or would not show at all in the hours to come. The smell of it seeped into your cubiculum as you tossed between the sheets, still reluctant to open your eyes.
Instead your hand crept — further and further away from your side of the bed to right, more and more just to... be met with disappointment. The sheets were mussed — clearly a sign that there was someone laying under them but the fact that they were no longer holding any warmth was enough to make you realise Marcellus left again.
You blinked awake and let your head turn lazily, your eyes lingering on his pillow, the cup for water he always placed there whenever deciding to join you in your shared bedchamber for the night. It now stood empty, which only made you roll your eyes and sigh quietly at his absence.
It's not like he spent every night there, right by your side where he should be — the tension stayed, even after the few nights spent together, kisses placed and intimacy shared. And as it was still rare to find him in your bed nowadays it seemed almost more unlikely to wake up next to your husband.
It seemed like Marcellus was gone by dawn — sneaking out of your marital bed to whatever matters he needed to attend to, especially now.
But thinking about him in the early moments of morning seemed easier than thinking of the whole mess that was waiting for you outside the doors.
Even if your house still seemed peaceful then your father's was filled with chaos. Not the cozy one, not the warmth of the hearth as if the goddess Vesta decided to take it away and leave only for Discordia to make your family fall apart.
Gaius fell sick — it seemed like every one in Rome fell sick nowadays, the plague was spreading and getting to the houses of the richest and most important ones. Not status nor coin could save you from it and it only showed how mortal all of you were.
Julia's paradise didn't last long either. She bore a girl, a beautiful girl whose hair seemed like they were kissed by the sun itself and skin so rosy as if she was bathed in flowers instead of milk. You couldn't not agree that your niece was a blessing as everyone used to call her when she was growing in her mother's womb — hid from everyone and called a boy instead, an heir for your brother when everyone knew Gaius would make it his successor instead. Yet it didn't matter if the girl — Vipsania Julia Nero — was the loveliest that ever lived, she unmistakably was not a boy.
The doors opened and your head snapped out to them before you sighed, your hands moved as if it was a routine, fixing your nightgown from the night before, pulling the sheets off and sitting up on the edge of the mattress.
"Where is my husband, Aprio?" Your voice was rough, your throat still sleeping as the words already wanted to be let out.
Your stola was placed on the nearby vanity, almost silently as the man turned to open the curtains with almost dismissive manner before his gaze flickered to you and back. "Who knows? Out." he said only before sighing, his response almost flippant, irritating you to the very core.
“Any news of my father’s health?” You asked before standing up to reach for the clothing and ring the bell to call for your maids.
“No.” The man said only before making his way out of the room — not sparing you another glance nor waiting for the approval to leave.
No words were spoken, only a frown bloomed on your face. You dressed in silence, this sudden feeling of boredom filled you while doing it — to the point you sat there playing with your fingers as the maids braided your hair adding the pearly hairpins as the decoration.
You’ve spent your time reading, lazing around and lounging in the sun that came after the rain while writing to congratulate your half-brother and half-sister — to bring up her spirits even a little bit after the disappointment she had to endure when Vipsania came. The sun kissed your cheeks and calmed your mind as the letters flowed out on the paper — you knew you could just go to your father’s villa and say it straight into her face, comfort her in the ways none of you ever tried. But there was something so intimate in reading letters — those faceless pages that made you focus on the letters instead of the one who’s speaking. Make you imagine them and fill their hearts instead of plaguing their minds.
By the time you were done the sun was high in the sky and various smells of spices were coming from the culina and crawling into your room.Yet no sign of Marcellus' return reached the villa. No hurried steps, quiet scoffs or bratty eyerolls in sight. Just nothingness.
Boredom.
That’s how your day was passing as the sun crawled over the sky like a lazy lizard until the news of your mother paying a visit to your villa came and ruined the harmony that fell over the room. Meeting Livia always meant something — often most likely an end of peace and beginning of something that brought unease. That made your skin crawl and your senses heightened as if you were in danger. Your mother was a dangerous woman, you knew that from a very early age when servants whispered and turned their eyes away each time she passed in hallways. And as you grew you more and more passionately thought how every woman in Rome with enough brain is like a serpent — coiling itself around power but having no arms to reach for it.
A serpent that bit wherever it could to spill venom and make things fall enough to take over it.
”Mother” you said and smiled gently, coming to the peristylum.
Livia’s face softened as you approached before her hand reached for your arm and hooked her own over yours. “My flower, how are you? We haven’t spoken in such a long time.” She smiled gently yet on her face it looked almost as if it was forced — strained on her perfect face.
“It’s been… peaceful” you said and nodded “despite it all” a sigh left your lips — a quiet, content breath as if some invisible weight had been lifted off your shoulder during the last weeks.
Livia’s eyes traveled over your face, catching every expression — the way the corner of your mouth lifted gently, your eyes had this kind look in them as if the world around was not falling apart with your father’s sickness.
“I’m glad to hear it, my daughter” her smile widened as she stroked up and down your forearm. Yet the happiness did not reach her eyes but something way more displeased settled in them.
“How is father?” You asked — the words came out worried yet still soft, like the reality reached you yet dreams did not wish to let you go from their arms “Did the physician bring any news?”
“Gaius… sleeps” she sighed, staring into the stone floor. “His… condition worsened but Antigone managed to bring his temperature down.” Lilia gave you a sad smile before starting to walk slowly. “She says that if he survived that he will wake.” She nodded and sighed before taking your hand in hers.
A sigh of relief left you as you closed your eyes for a second and smiled only — the weight of worry lifting from your heart as your mother finally shared some good news.
”Thank the Gods.” You exhaled before looking at her.
Silence fell between you as you wandered calmly around the peristylum. You gave her a sidelong glance — as if to check if something was troubling her beside Gauis’ health or was there more reasons of her visit.
“Where is your husband, my daughter?” She asked suddenly and turned to look at you.
The question caught you off guard as she never troubled herself with where Marcellus was unless he was bothering Tiberius or Drusus. So her sudden concern only spiked your worry again and made you swallow the quiet expectancy of another disappointed words.
“He is… out.” You inhaled quietly. “I have not seen him this morning, he left early… to the senate, I believe.” You nodded quietly and looked at her. “Why?” Your quiet question hid anxiety — you did not wish to hear another disappointed sigh, another pointed look or discreet scolding.
“Senate?” She raised an eyebrow before a small, almost mocking smirk bloomed on her skin. “For whatever reason? He does not hold any office.” She said and shook her head, making the veil on her head to shift slightly with her movements.
“…He is still father’s heir… is he not?” You raised your chin gently as a puzzled look came across your eyes. “Why would he not be in the senate? Especially now that my father lays sick?”
“Marcellus does not have the right experience for it.” She shook her head. “Your father whispered to me that it’s Agrippa that should rule in his stead.” Livia spoke and her voice was pointed as if it really was her plan, not Gauis’. As if every step was already decided before anything real happened. “Beside… Marcellus is Gauis’ heir till Julia gives Tiberius a male heir and then… his interest will shift.” She explained gently like she would do it for a child.
“…To Tiberius?” You grimaced. “They have no blood ties, why would father do it?” You raised an eyebrow
It was true that you and Tiberius were never close — there was something almost creepy about him. The way he stared, the way he smirked as a child when you fell and scraped your knee on the stone. But neither close were Gauis and Tiberius — your father treated the boy as his wife’s child, not a son of his own.
“…Tiberius is simply the better choice.” She shrugged and put her hands together as her eyebrows lifted gently in fair innocence.
“He promised Marcellus—“ you tried to argue before she cut you off with a single, sharp glare.
“Marcellus has no heirs.” She said and you felt like something was painfully squeezing in your chest. “Nor any proof that your father promised him his office beside his word and we both know, my daughter, that senators need real proof, not empty promises spoken by a boy.”
You looked at her — at the sharp cheekbones, at the big brown eyes that seemed so cold and distant now and the more you thought about it the more you were sure that they were never truly warm. You looked at the slight grimace on her lips, the unyielding mask she put on and it became clear to you how much she resents the man she made you marry.
For whatever reasons she had.
“…I would— I will give him an heir.” You said and inhaled before gently biting onto your inner cheek in order to not crumble under her stare.
“Will you?” She lifted her eyebrow. “It’s been two years, my flower? How much time do you think he will close an eye to the fact that your womb stays empty?”
”I—“ sudden redness blossomed on your cheeks. Frustration? Shame? You could not tell as the tears started to prickle in your eyes. “We are trying, mother, you have to believe me.” You mumbled and took her hand in yours, seeking this glimmer in her eyes that would signal that she believed you.
“Then you ought to stop.” Her voice was cold, sharp and made your jaw clench gently in desperation. “You surely believe that it’s wise to bear a child now? While Rome is plagued by sickness? Think about it. You will give him a child and sentence the poor babe for suffering the moment it’ll leave your body? Don’t be stupid.” She sneered.
“I am not stupid! This is my duty to my husband—!”
”And what about your duty to your family? Would you see Tiberius pushed away from what is rightfully his?” She shook her head gently as her gaze didn’t leave you.
Your breath hitched gently as you looked into the cold void of her brown eyes. “Marcellus is my family now as well.” You said — yet your voice sounded unsure, small and weak as if you were a child again scolded by her for the first time after misbehaving.
“...You are naive if you think they see you as their family.” Livia hissed and took her hand away from yours. “Octavia hates you for not living up to the expectations that are brought upon you as a wife, Scribonia hates you simply because you are my child—... that will not change no matter how many sons you’ll bear for your husband.” she said and huffed quietly as her eyebrows knitted like if you were speaking another language and she couldn’t make you understand hers.
Your heart squeezed painfully as the words finally left her mouth and silence fell upon the room. Your back straightened slightly as you swallowed and made yourself not cave under her gaze. “...I think it’s time you return to my father’s side.” you nodded only gently and inhaled before turning to a servant girl standing nearby. “Please see my mother to the exit.”
With that Livia send you last vicious glare — as if sending her away was something considered a sin between men and gods. Her steps echoed through the room as she made her way out — your face crumbling momentarily before you pulled yourself back to normal with a sharp inhale and a rough rub of your fingers against your forehead.
Servants stared at you, you were sure of it. Their nervous glances made you feel exposed and unnaturally vulnerable — you knew that the staff thrived on gossip and you knew that surely that will be the subject on everyone’s mouth for the next days. Words spreading through the villa like the sickness that spread outside of it.
The sound of your steps followed you to the moment you haven’t slammed the doors shut after you and leaned against it for a moment. The room was dimly lit — the flowy curtains pulled close and not letting the sun slip inside… maybe only a little bit with only one candle already burning on your nightstand. The smoke of it followed by one of the incense the maids always lit to make the cubiculum smell of various herbs — the smoke curled around the other one in an intimate dance that filled the room.
You felt their gaze on your back as you moved back towards the bed — to hide between covers and pillows and make yourself disappear and rid of the burning of their pitiful stares. You pushed yourself into the feather filled pillow before letting yourself melt into the mattress.
It wasn’t warm anymore — not like in the morning when your body heat seeped into the fabric and made it hard to leave.
You do not know how much time you spend like this — curled up, your face pressed against your pillow, your hair spilling over it in cascades. And you focused on how you were breathing, your brain registered every breath that left your lips, every breath that made them dry. You focused on how hard your heart was beating, not fast, hard. It was hammering like the bell on the forum or something as big as it. Hitting against your ribs and you felt how heavy it was in your chest.
You did not open your eyes when the doors were abruptly open and then closed just as fast if not more. Only the uneven breathing and clumsy steps followed by hurried clanking of jewelry against the wooden desk. Marcellus’ anxious attempt to be quiet did not go like he’d want it — the almost panicked movements as if something was chasing him echoing in the room before he finally sat down on the bed.
“Are you sleeping?” The question came out ragged before Marcellus forced his voice to still.
“…no.” You shook your head gently before opening your eyes to look at him. “Are you… alright?” Your voice sounded concerned as your eyes flickered over the unease on his face that he tried to mask.
He let out a soft scoff, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment. A smirk slipped onto his mouth, but it was different now — more sardonic than cruel.
"I don't avoid you. I'm just… busy."
His fingers were still playing with the fabric by your knee, the fresh sheets smelling like lavender soap after you had the maids change them after you left the cubiculum in the morning. His body was still close, eyes still on your as his hair sticked out from the way he always ran his fingers through them.
"My time is spent on more important matters, you know. Politics… the things that actually require my attention. Not in bed with some whore."
“You’re a pontificate not a senator” you said and tilted your head to the side, your knees still curled under you as the candlelight flickered over your cheek from his nightstand.
He rolled his eyes at your word as if both annoyed and amused by them. This felt familiar, the way you were acting, the defiance and sass in your tone. It was almost nostalgic, bringing the memories from both your shared childhood and and the bitterness of the first years of your marriage
"Semantics." He said dismissively. "I have obligations, duties. They don't involve you and me waiting for you to wake up from your slumber every morning."
His hand slipped from the sheets to your knee, his fingertips skimming over your skin just to pull your nightgown back over it as if to hide it from everyone, him included.
“…still… you wish to be a senator?” you asked and your eyes flickered to his face. "Is this where your ambitions lay?" you added softly — not accusatory, gods never that , at least not nowadays, just curious of what he has planned for himself and you.
He froze for a split second, his fingers stilling against your skin. His smirk faded — replaced by something unreadable as if the softness left your chamber abruptly and the seriousness filled it once more.
"A senator?" He scoffed softly, but there was an edge to it now as if the words put strain over his heart "That's what you think? That I waste my time scheming for political office?"
“What do you have interest in then?” you hummed quietly, pursing your lips for a second, like a cat fussing over the mouse and for a moment Marcellus was sure he saw your mother in you.
"Power." his words were simple, unhurried and his eyes scanned yours carefully, already preparing for what you might say next. "More power. More influence. More control. That's what I'm after. Not a useless seat amongst a room full of pompous old fools."
“Senate is power” you said “or at least first step to it” your eyebrows lifted momentarily up before your eyes fall back over the white sheets.
"The Senate is a circus." He practically spatted the words. "A bunch of old men strutting around like peacocks, trying desperately to prove themselves relevant. Power… real power… lies somewhere else."
Silence filled your cubiculum, you stilled, blinking a few times as if to register his words better and form a response — maybe a dangerous one, maybe just what he needed or maybe something your mother would have your head for.
“…You know you’ll be my father’s heir” you muttered “He doesn’t have a son and you’re his favorite so… it’s only a matter of time before he dies or he could be dying even now and you becoming the next princeps senatus… as if it’s not just another word for an emperor… or a dictator” you said and watched his face change, harden as his hand moved away from your skin as if it burned too touch or repelled him like he pretended before.
"...That's treason you're dancing on now, wife."
“Treason? For what? Speaking the truth?” you scoffed quietly and shook your head — so stubborn, so much like Livia.
"You know as well as I do that even the slightest hint of sedition is punishable by death—"
“It’s not sedition” you cut him off “it’s speaking plainly and not being afraid to take what we want… unless that’s what you think killed my grandfather at the Ides” you added and swallowed quietly.
He went still at your words — his blue eyes wide and bewildered and squeezed his finger on the fabric of his sleeping tunic.
"You're playing with fire, woman." He said, his voice almost a snarl. "Do you have any idea what you're even saying? What the consequences could be if someone heard you… if your father heard you?" he said and shook his head slightly on the pillow before his eyes went to the doors and back to your face, still enveloped by the dying flame of the candles.
“My father wants to give the office to you” you said “do you not understand? Why do you think he married me to you? Or was that not enough of a sign for you?”
A scoff left his mouth before he moved his arm back over his eyes as if to block your words by not having to look at you.
"Power isn't handed to you. It's taken." His voice was fierce, his jaw tightened as the memory of today's stroke. "Your mother set a perfect example of it just today by handing Agrippa your father's ring." he added and looked at you bitterly from under the barely lifted arm. "His promises are nothing when he's gone, I am still only his nephew, not his heir."
Your heart stopped for a moment when the sentence left his mouth and the puzzle all of the sudden solved.
“So what, you want to compete with others for approval of the senate like it should be done?" your eyes widened slightly as you finally understood the reason behind his constant absence "That’s why you run around trying to win them over? Or why do I have to host dinners with them? To win their vote so you can achieve the title yourself instead of being handed it?”
"I do not wish their validation nor their approval… and I do not wish for that title to be simply handed to me like a gift." his eyes narrowed as he glanced up at you, his gaze sharp like you saw them many times before during dinners or while passing each other in the hallways.
“Then what do you want!? Do you want power or is it just ambition your mind has been poisoned with?” you asked, your hands flying around in exaggeration before you turned your gaze back to him. "What is it that you want?"
“I wish they stop treating me like a green boy with no brain.” he hissed finally and shook his head gently as a bitter expression bloomed on his face. “I wish they stop seeing me like an unimportant boy whose wife is more politically popular than I.”
“I am not—”
“Do not lie.” he cut you off quickly. “You said it yourself, weeks ago. You are a daughter of most important man in Rome and I—”
“And you are his nephew.” you said and inhaled. “And marrying me gave you his favor… You will rule after him” you said before moving to place your hand on his chest. “You must hold it in your heart.”
Silence filled the chamber as you only felt the slowing down beat of his heart. Marcellus’ head dipped down just so his nose could brush against your as he leaned in.
“... and our son will rule after me.” he said and inhaled as his shoulders tensed – as if the implication was all of the sudden some sort of taboo.
“...He will.” you nodded only. Surely. Confidently. Before finally pressing your lips to his.
The kiss was awkward — chaste in a way — as you still, even after weeks of… trying to coexist like a married couple does, did not find your rhythm. Maybe it was a blessing in a way — kissing him always felt like the first time of doing so, letting you relearn the softness of his mouth and how they moved against yours. Yet still the clumsiness of it made you want to pull away and never face him again.
Yet it seemed like no alike thoughts ran through his head as he only pressed harder to deepen the kiss. You could say that it was greedy — the way his lips sought yours, the way he gently pushed you down against pillows and his body pressed against yours.
Your hand lifted hesitantly before burning itself in the brown strands of his hair and tugging softly on them to pull a quiet grunt from his throat that only disappeared into your own mouth. Marcellus’ hands wandered to your waist – his moves grew bolder overtime but they still had this boyish uncertainty he despised as if he couldn’t keep himself from touching but not knowing if he’s doing it right.
Your breath hitched gently as his kisses slid down to your throat and his hips grounded into the mattress with almost desperation. Your hands followed the urgency — first messing the always-so-well-kept his mother always smoothed down before reaching for the clasp of his toga on the shoulder as Marcellus focused on sucking and biting into your neck with undying urgency.
Your husband’s hands balled into fist against the fabric of his stola but he made no effort to tug it off while his own was coming apart under your dire tugging.
“Just let me–” you breathed before your finger wrapped around the ties of your stola.
“No, I—” he tried with a shaky voice as his head lifted from your neck and hand pushed your away to untie the fabric.
“Just—” you breathed and leaned on your elbow to help him get rid of your clothing faster.
You were well aware of the messy, almost burning neediness that bloomed so quickly between you it almost bursted. His cheeks were rosy and you were sure yours were no different, same with eyes — hazy with desperation, pupils dilated as you watched his face, the black of his almost swallowing the blue irises you started to enjoy looking at nowadays. Somewhere between the uneven breaths quiet grunts of frustration the sound of teared fabric came to your ears, yet you hardly cared as Marcellus suddenly straightened to tug his clothes over his head. You, of course, followed. Lifted your hips to rid yourself off the fabric, discarding it somewhere on the mattress or the floor and laying back down.
Your arms seemed to reach for him as if they had a mind of their own, yet he did not wasted a minute, moving to press his warm body against your once more, his hips partying your legs to slide between them. You gasped quietly feeling the hardness of his cock pressing against our thigh, throbbing as he thrusted blindly just for the sake of it.
“Marcellus—” you breathed before your lips once more were captured by his. You felt Marcellus’ fingertips sliding down, the burning sensation leaving goosebumps in their wake before pressing gently to your hot core.
A first finger slid in, then the second one as he pumped them into your soaked cunt, pressing against the soft walls as you mewled into his lips, gripping the brown strands tightly, almost pulling them out.
He was quick — preparing you only as much to make himself fit before pulling out and wiping them clumsily into sheets as his mouth did not part from yours. A loud, started whine left him as your hands gently wrapped around the waking head of his cock — pumping it gently yourself now.
Marcellus' eyes went wide before he pulled away and looked at your face with an almost scared look. “No— no, wait—” he shook his head gently but his resistance melted away with the first movement of your thumb over his surely red now tip. Instead a soft, needy look entered his eyes as he stared down at you in the warm light of the candle, lips swollen and parted
Your movements were slow and careful as you never dared to touch him in such a way. The throbbing made the bush on your cheeks prominent and the quick grunts from the back of his throat did not help to get rid of the aching between your legs.
“E-enough…” he tried to steady his voice, to sound confident as he pulled your hand away, pressing his hips back to yours.
Your heart beat against your ribs so fast you thought it might jump out of your chest in a second. Instead you pulled him back into a kiss, hand finding the back of his neck as he finally thrusted into you. A shudder ran over both of you and he stilled inside you after bottoming out.
After the first careful, little thrust he hid his face back into your neck, inhaling gently as if keeping his cool as your body moved to press your chest against his. Skin sweaty, heartbeat against heartbeat as you wrapped your arms around him tightly and breathed steadily next to his ear.
The clumsy thrust seemed more like a messy rocking as he couldn’t bring himself to pull out too far before sliding back in and you felt it – every drag of his cock inside you, hitting all the right spots that made you bite down on your lip not to moan too loudly.
“I’m not gonna last long.” he said only as you already felt the first tingles of pleasure in your belly.
“N-neither will I.” you chocked up before gasping as his hand slid up to cup the swell of your breast. “Oh gods—” an involuntary gasp left your mouth and you eyelids fluttered closed at the feeling.
With each breath, thumb of heart or shaky breath your pace quickened. Hips rolled desperately against his just so he could hit that one spot deep inside you that made your skin crawl in pleasure and eyes water. Marcellus’ fingers dug into your skin as his lips were parted and you felt every breath on your skin accompanied by the twitches of his cock inside you as you clenched around him. The pleasure was coiling in your pelvis – creeping closer and closer despite you wanting it to last as long as it could.
His hand squeezed on our breast as he drove harder into you and the sound of skin slapping filled the room. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulder as you felt how impatient he was, as if he was chasing after something – needed to have it like that to feel it for real, like having you this close was the only way he could ever feel satisfaction.
You looked so pretty, basking in the warm glow of the nightstand candle. With your hair slightly disheveled from tousling and turning on the pillow and with your lips slightly swollen from all the kisses he planted on them but after all his probably looked the same.
Marcellus almost whined as you clenched on him, his fingers digging into your hip for the first time this night before his own pace fastened desperately, chasing the pleasure. His hair was sticking to his pale forehead and cheeks were flushed from all the pleasure, his pupils dilated like he was seeing the best thing in the world. He wasn’t even trying to hide the sounds he was making — the quiet groans and whimpering vibrating against your skin as he sucked gently on the skin of your shoulder.
“Oh gods–” you whined, feeling how the coil in your stomach started to unravel. “Just a bit… a bit—” you breathed as your nails dug into the skin of his back — leaving red marks behind.
“There? Right there yeah?” he whispered as if to himself but knowing that you hear him, that you will nod and hide your face in his shoulder as you came on his cock.
The spasm of your muscles made his jaw clench and body shake gently as he willed himself to last a bit longer, just a few more seconds — he told himself. To not look pathetic, again like a green boy that bedded his wife for the first time.
Only the quiet breathless “Marcellus—” that came out mumbled and needy pushed him to the brink.
He buried himself to the hilt before he came second later with a painful bite on his own lips that was enough to almost draw blood from it as he filled you up — the hot spurts making your toes curl and face to twist slightly in sensation.
Only your weak breaths filled the cubiculum as you stayed in each other’s embrace — hearts beating against your ribs as Marcellus lifted his head from your shoulder.
“I…I’ll make sure to attend senate… a bit less from now on.” he nodded quietly as his eyes sought yours
Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it <33. I have more of this Roman twink planned so stay tuned!
taglist: @userhotd @ghostlybfgf @qardasngan @elisabethturner1919 @sczlxdy @itspbjellytime @morriganstark @aerangi @trixxel @nanascharms @7775sblog
© starxs-s. est, 2026
