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fel-09 · 13 days ago

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Emperor Geta x reader

Words:2.400+

2Part Part 3

Second life

The air was filled with a sweet haze of wine, grapes, and incense. The room felt suffocating despite its vastness and marble columns stretching to the vaulted ceiling, where warm light reflected faintly. The Empress stood near one of the columns, her silhouette lost in the dim light. She seemed out of place in this grandeur, invisible to those who laughed and indulged themselves in pleasure.

At the center of attention, as always, was him. Geta. Her husband, the Emperor of Rome, and the man who had completely stripped her of her significance. Reclining on a lavishly adorned couch, he leaned back, allowing his concubines to feed him grapes and share jokes. The delicate fingers of one woman traced his shoulders, while another gently combed his hair. He smiled. This scene was far too ordinary, far too familiar.

She didn’t move. She only watched, clenching her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. Long ago, at the beginning of their marriage, her presence at least unsettled him somewhat. Back then, she could say something, and he might respond with a condescending remark or even a smile. But not anymore.

"Did you want something?" His lazy voice reached her at last when he finally noticed her.

She flinched slightly but quickly composed herself. Once, that gaze would have compelled her to justify herself, to apologize, but now… she remained silent. Instead of responding, she turned away and left the hall, leaving him with a faint smirk on his face.

Something broke inside her chest, but it wasn’t pain. It was a strange mix of bitterness and indifference. Everything she had felt, everything she had endured by his side, had now lost its meaning. He had taken everything from her—her rights, her freedom, her respect. Even her death, as it turned out, had not piqued his interest.

When she had died, poisoned on the orders of one of his favorites, her final thoughts had been a plea for forgiveness. Forgiveness for allowing him to trample on her pride for so long. But now, standing here alive, as if fate itself had given her a second chance, she knew she would not waste it.

Day by day, she began to act. It wasn’t an overt rebellion or loud proclamations. Her resistance started with small, unnoticed actions. She observed, listened, and waited.

The first change she made was in the imperial council. Previously, Geta’s concubines were allowed to attend, having been delegated much of the Emperor’s responsibilities. Her opinions were never sought; her words held no weight. But now, she took her place.

When one of his favorites, the young and arrogant Aurelia, rose to speak, the Empress calmly raised her hand, cutting her off.

“I don’t recall an advisor of Rome wearing silk robes and emerald necklaces,” her voice was soft but firm. “Sit down.”

A tense silence fell over the hall. The council members, accustomed to her silence, exchanged glances. Aurelia paled but tried to maintain her composure.

“Geta permitted me…”

“Perhaps His Highness is too busy to remember how the council operates. But I do,” her voice didn’t rise, but there was an edge of warning in it. “Sit.”

"all the more so, you are a mistress and should know that in public he is an emperor for you"

Aurelia slowly sank back into her seat, her face burning with embarrassment. The Empress didn’t look at her again, focusing instead on discussing pressing matters.

This small victory did not go unnoticed.

Later that same evening the emperor began to scold for behavior that was supposedly not right , in public, Geta hit the steel with his hand, looked at her sullenly and shouted through his teeth

"The fact that you are an empress does not give you the right to such behavior You insult my people, you insult me!."

She raised an eyebrow at his words as y snorted and laughed, covering mouth with her hand.To which he raised his eyebrows in surprise, although anger was still boiling inside him.

"Oh please... mistress... advice? Isn't there anyone more absurd in this situation?"

The emperor looked at her in surprise, word after word she did not stop arguing until she were separated from each other, it was strange for Geta, for the first time she fought back...

Weeks passed, and the changes became apparent. Her status in the palace was no longer nominal. She reclaimed everything that was hers. But most importantly, she reclaimed herself.

At the gladiatorial games, which she had been obliged to attend since the beginning of their marriage, she no longer averted her gaze. Once, the scenes of violence and death would make her tremble. She would hide her eyes, turn away, while the crowd roared in delight. But not anymore.

She sat upright, her posture impeccable, her expression calm and detached. When one of the gladiators fell, clinging desperately to life, she watched him as if she were a judge, dispassionately assessing his struggle, a silent question lingering in the air: Was this worth it for you?

Geta laughed loudly, watching the spectacle with his brother. A servant placed wine on the table before him, and as he turned, he noticed her. For a moment, his gaze lingered longer on her than on the battle itself. In his eyes was a mix of curiosity and irritation.

“You’re no longer afraid? Strange… even refreshing coming from you,” he asked, drawing her attention.

She turned, her gaze cold and almost disdainful.

“It just seems meaningless to me now. And I’ve grown used to the spectacle.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. This tone was uncharacteristic of her. Her words were direct, almost provocative.

“Hm... Still as boring as ever,” he said, looking at her dismissively, as if he wasn’t interested in the first place.

She turned away, as though he wasn’t worth her response.

The more she changed, the more it unsettled him, though he didn’t want to admit it. Her newfound coldness both drew him in and frightened him. He was used to her looking up at him with reverence or fear. To him, it had always been natural, the way things should be. But now, her gaze was indifferent.

They sat in the same room one evening, but she spoke only to Caracalla. She didn’t look at him, not even once. His younger brother deserved more of her attention than he did… her husband. Their conversation was lively, but he decided to ruin this little idyll.

“Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing?” His voice was tense, laced with threat.

She stopped, slowly turning her head toward him.

“And what exactly am I doing, Your Highness?” Her words made his teeth clench. She hadn’t called him “my Emperor” for days now. He didn’t know why he had become fixated on this, but he had.

“Your behavior. Do you think I’ll just let you do whatever you want?” He stepped closer, his voice lowered as he leaned in, the scent of her skin hitting his senses and nearly making him lose control.

His brother watched with a smirk, leaning back on the couch as though enjoying the unfolding scene. “Oh, come on, brother. Our sister-in-law is simply in a mood, and you’re ruining it,” Caracalla teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The gesture made Geta’s brow furrow in anger.

“I would still like to clarify the situation,” the Emperor grumbled, his hands tightening on the couch she sat on.

At last, the Empress looked at him directly for the first time in days. She met his gaze, not looking away.

“If I’m doing something unbefitting of my status, if i do let me know, Your Highness,” she said with a defiant smile, knowing she wouldn’t face any consequences. And she was absolutely right.

He fell silent, his lips twitching slightly, unable to find the words.

Now their conversations were rare. She no longer sought his attention or tried to be noticed. Instead, she focused on reclaiming her place in the world.

When he saw her in the palace gardens, she was sitting on a marble bench surrounded by advisors. She laughed—not out of politeness, but genuinely. Her eyes sparkled, and her voice brimmed with confidence.

Geta stopped for a moment, watching her from the shadows. This woman was no longer the timid girl he had married for political gain. She was… something greater.

And it irritated him. Her laughter, her smile, her demeanor—everything irritated him.

He began to search for her throughout the palace, hoping she might once again desire his presence, a small conversation, a glance—anything. But each time, she dismissed his attempts, even when he tried to manipulate her by saying, “We need heirs.” She didn’t even flinch.

But one day, they met in a corridor, and the conversation started poorly from the very beginning.

“Do you think you can ignore me? You’re my Empress, my wife… mine, do you understand? And your behavior is nothing more than childish defiance!” he said, intercepting her in the hall. He was visibly displeased—displeased with her actions, which cast a shadow on his status. He loved power, loved everything about it, but she had become dangerous to him… and yet, all the more desirable.

She looked at him without any interest in his words. Once, she would have hung on every word he spoke… but now, it all seemed like the meaningless ramblings of a madman rather than the speech of a man.

“It’s too late, Your Highness,” she replied before walking away.

Her words hurt more than he wanted to admit. He stood alone, surrounded by concubines who no longer seemed desirable to him.

Now he understood he had lost her completely. Each step she took away from him, without looking back, was like a blow to his heart.

________

Sorry for the mistakes in the text, I just want to sleep and I don’t understand what I wrote.

#x reader #fem reader #funfiction #emperor geta #geta #geta x reader #geta x you #emperor caracalla #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x fem reader #emperor geta x y/n

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slimybeth69 · 1 month ago

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Thirst Part 4

Marcus Acacius X lady reader (no descriptions, you're a virgin though)

Your freedom had a price and Marcus Acacius was willing to pay for it… but you also had to do something for him.

Chapter 4 of 10 - Torn

Summary- You find out interesting news about Marcus.

Rating: EXPLICIT -- Shameless smut with a little more plot now.

a/n: NO SPOILERS to the new movie.

WARNINGS: dubious consent, ownership, mentions of being a whore, loss of virginity, penetration.

Part 1Part 2Part 3

thanks @saradika-graphics for the graphics

Before you even open the door to the bathhouse, you can smell Marcus.

You don’t even know how long it’s been since he left in the middle of what was about to be the most fun, and memorable day of your life. Lady Lucilla and Marcus have been at the forefront of your thoughts since that day.

Lady Lucilla…she may be beautiful and high-class. Yes, she may wear beautiful dresses. She doesn’t have your perfect pussy. Why would he run to her so urgently without even a goodbye?

You push open the door to the bathhouse, steam billowing out as you enter. The smell of Marcus grows stronger, mingling with the humid air. Your heart races as you scan the room searching for him.

There he is, lounging in one of the sunken marble baths. His eyes are closed, head tipped back against the edge. A long, bloody gash runs across his upper arm, stitched and bound with rough twine. A few smaller, already clotting cuts and bruises mar his otherwise unblemished skin.

Beads of water cling to his broad chest and shoulders. He looks so peaceful, you almost hate to disturb him.

Almost.

"You're back," you say, trying to hide your annoyance, but not quite succeeding.

Marcus' eyes flicker open, and a slow grin spreads across his face when he sees you. "Ah, my dear Dove. The first thing I did upon my return was send for you."

You scoff and roll your eyes at him, “Why would you do that? You leave me all the time, for so long.’ Your arms cross over your chest and you huff angrily. “Leave me for Lady Lucilla,” you try to hide the hurt in your tone and cover it with frustration. “Why not send for her?” You huff.

Marcus chuckles softly, his eyes taking in your body. "Come now, don't be like that. You’re my little Dove, my Aurelia, my Luna Flora… my perfect girl,” He sounds reassuring, like you should know you are all of those things.

You scoff again and turn away from him, pretending to examine a vase on a nearby shelf. "Am I? Then why did you run off to her so desperately?”

You hear water sloshing.

"Dove, look at me," he says, his voice low and commanding.

“No.”

"I have duties to fulfill," Marcus says in a soothing tone. "Not just leaving you. Not when we were–"

"Sounds like leaving me,” you fire back at him. “You left without even saying goodbye," you protest, trying to keep the jealousy hidden from your voice.

Marcus reaches out, his fingers brushing against your ankle. "I know, and I'm sorry for that. I didn't want to leave you. Not in the middle of..."

A shiver runs through you at his touch. "You could have at least said goodbye," you mumble, but you can feel your resolve weakening.

"You're right," Marcus admits. "I should have. Will you forgive me, little dove?" His hand slides up your calf, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin.

You stay upset, having real jealousy in your heart. “Duties to fulfill? What is so urgent to Lady Lucilla that she demands you—”

Against your better judgment, you turn back to face him. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his naked, dripping wet body. Droplets of water run down his chest and abdomen. His cock is half-hard, hanging heavy between his thighs.

“Yes, duties…she is my wife,” Marcus nods, “She is kind, a political influence. Beautiful—”

“Your wife?” You gawk at him, with your mouth hanging open, at the sight of him and at the news he’s just announced.

“Yes? Do you not think the many men in Rome who are married do not also have a mistress?” He sounds genuinely confused to your response.

“A mistress?” You snort, and try to fight back the anger growing inside of you.

Did you really think Marcus Acacius would choose a whore? Over a lady of high-born status?

“Do not think that is all you are to me, perfect girl—”

You roll your eyes and wave a dismissive hand at him. “Do not call me that. I know what my role is, I know why you paid for me. Let’s get this over with,” You start to undo the fasteners on your robe.

"Do you think I look at Lucilla the way I look at you?" Marcus asks, his dark eyes intense as they bore into yours as your fingers fumble. "Do you think I ache for her touch the way I ache for yours?"

You swallow hard, trying to maintain your composure. "I don't know. You’ve only let me touch you once,"

Marcus tuts softly, “My Aurelia. Do you know why?”

“I am whore that you paid for, to tease—”

“No,” He takes a slow step up onto the stairs leading out of the tub. “I didn’t let you touch me for so long, because I knew that once you did— once I felt the way the inside of your cunt feels…I’d never go back to her,” he nods, taking another step closer to you out of the water. “How could I?”

“You lie,” It’s hard to keep your anger burning. “Your words mean nothing to me when your actions prove time and time again that you’d rather be anywhere else,” It’s harder to keep your eyes on his face when his wet, naked body is standing just in front of you.

“My actions? I come to you whenever I am available. My free time— which is sparse, is spent with you, Aurelia,” Marcus respires through his nose. “I finally have time to see the woman I want–”

“How would I know that?” You snap bitterly. “You keep me locked away! Hidden—”

“Hidden from Emperors who would take you from me– because they can,” Marcus warns. “The twins are good at sharing,” he continues. “But I am not. You are not for their entertainment.”

“Just your own?” Your fingers are halted at the last laces of your robe, “Just someone who entertains you?”

Marcus takes another step and towers over you, “Listen to me,” His hands roam at your sides, the fabric sticking to his wet palms and pooling at his wrists as he slides them up your ribs. “You are the vision in my head always,” he whispers, his breath warm and inviting, not smelling of wine at all.

You can feel the heat radiating off his naked body, “Then why do you leave?” You find it hard to focus on anything but the way his muscles ripple with each movement he makes.

His eyes soften and his hands move further up your sides and across your chest. His fingers tease and tickle your neck and then cups your face gently, “Perfect girl, I leave because I have wars and battles to fight, not because I want you sitting up in that room without me.” Marcus leans in and brushes his lips against yours. “I must keep Geta and Caracalla happy, and keep myself on their good side, my perfect girl.”

You sigh quietly as your resolve begins to shatter, “You’re supposed to be powerful and influential; you cannot keep me safe?” You utter, the words melting on his tongue as he swallows them.

Despite what you’ve said, Marcus chuckles softly. “From the twin Emperors?” He sounds amused. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he tilts your chin up. "My beautiful Dove," he murmurs. "So unaware of the dangers in the world—”

It’s hard to keep your composure when he’s questioning your awareness of what happens outside the walls and on the streets below your balcony.

“You keep me locked away! You’re the reason I don’t know! I came here from the countryside, and I was sold by my parents as a way to stop their home and farm from being taken—” You’re shouting at him, unable to hide your frustration any longer. This is too much, it’s gone on too long. You’re ready to either be claimed and feel cared for, or leave. You'll go be with these stupid Emperors that Acacius is so fearful of. Let them take your virginity.

“By the same Emperors who would try and take you from me!” Marcus bellows back at you. It’s deep and fills the entire room. It makes you flinch and you bite your lips between your teeth as he takes another step closer to you, closing the distance completely. When he speaks, it’s much quieter, still in his deep baritone. “If the pair of them got wind of your beauty, especially as someone I care for deeply, it would be used against me.”

Before you can respond, his lips crash into yours. Marcus groans low in his throat as he deepens the kiss. His tongue sweeps past your parted lips, and tangles with yours eagerly. The kiss grows wetter, fiercer, his teeth bite at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. Finally, reluctantly, you break apart, chests heaving, lips swollen and slick

Marcus' hands roam your body, leaving trails of dampness on your clothes. He trails his lips along your jaw and down your neck. "I think of you constantly," he growls against your pulse. "Your soft skin. Your sweet scent. The little sounds you make when I touch you."

You gasp as he nips at your throat. "Marcus," you breathe, fingers tangling in his wet hair.

Marcus' fingers deftly unfasten the last laces of your robe, “What is it, Dove?” The steamy heat of the bathhouse licks at your exposed skin as he pushes the fabric aside, revealing your bare flesh to him. "By the gods, you're exquisite," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “And all mine,”

“You may have paid for me, but you’ve yet to make me yours.” You sigh quietly, arching your back as he trails kisses down your collarbone.

Marcus prevents the robe from falling entirely, using it as a tether to bring you closer, kissing his way back up to your lips, your breaths synchronizing with his. "I intend to make you mine, in every way possible," he promises seductively. Once you're close enough to feel his length throbbing against your lower stomach, he lets the robe fall. Marcus' hands continue to roam your body, cupping your breasts.

You moan softly as he takes one peak into his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue lapping, the tip flicking back and forth. He suckles gently, drawing the bud to an aching peak. Sparks of pleasure radiate through you as he lavishes attention on your breast - his tongue slick and warm, with just a hint of roughness. Marcus dips into the crease beneath, then glides up the sensitive curve.

“You want to be mine?” His hands continue their descent, tracing the curve of your hips before slipping between your thighs. You're already wet for him, your body ready and eager for his touch. Gently, almost reverently, he parts your folds with his fingers, exploring your most intimate places. "Do you still want me to fill you up, stretch your tight little cunt around my cock?"

Your breath hitches as he finds your sensitive pearl, circling it with a feather-light touch. Being mindful of the wound on his arm, you grip his shoulders tightly, nodding silently with your mouth agape and a quiet moan escapes your lips as he rubs slow, deliberate circles around your aching nub. His other hand continues to knead your breast, rolling the stiff peak between his fingers.

"I want to hear you say it, Dove," Marcus murmurs against your neck between heated kisses. "Tell me you want this," His thick digits dip lower, teasing your entrance. You're dripping with arousal, your body craving him, aching to be filled.

"Yes," you whimper, rocking your hips against his hand. "Please, I need you inside me." you gasp, as he increases the pressure. "I want to be yours. Make me yours, Marcus, please..."

A low, possessive growl rumbles through his chest," That's it, my perfect Dove.” Smirking, he slips a finger into your virgin entrance, pumping slowly.

You sigh at the feeling of him inside you, your inner walls clenching around the digit. Soon a second finger joins the first, curling and scissoring inside you, then a third, working you open. “Fuck, Marcus.” You’re clenching your teeth at the burn and the tightness. The stretch borders on pain, an unfamiliar pressure, but it only heightens the feeling building inside of you.

Keeping his fingers buried deep, he uses his thumb to rub firm circles on your clit. Sparks of ecstasy burst behind your eyes as he touches you just right. "You're so tight, so perfect," he groans. "I can't wait to feel your sweet cunt wrapped around my cock."

Your head falls back, a throaty moan torn from your lips, “Don’t stop, Marcus, please don’t stop.” His filthy words make you clench around his fingers.

He smirks, clearly pleased by your reaction, "That's it, let me hear you," Marcus encourages, pumping faster, thumb unrelenting against your swollen nub.

Your climax builds rapidly, stoked higher with every thrust and spiral, “Yes, yes, yes, it’s so good!” You whine loudly as your lower stomach begins to tighten. It feels like something is going to explode inside of you. It’s ripping through you and you let Marcus know with a keening cry, convulsing around him.

Marcus works you through it, “There she is… my singing Dove.” His touch gentling as you start to come down. He withdraws his fingers from your fluttering passage and brings them to his lips. You watch through hooded eyes as he licks them clean, savoring your taste. "Delicious," he purrs, eyes locked on you.

You’re still gasping, watching him suck your juices off his fingers when he has his hand in yours.

Marcus leads you to a marble bench and sits down with his back to the wall. "I'm going to make you mine now,” he guides you into his lap, with your knees on either side of his, "I want to watch you sink down onto my thick cock," His voice is just a low rumble, now, barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

You bite your lip as you settle your weight on his muscular thighs. “We’re really doing this?”

Marcus grips your hips firmly, his large holding you easily, making you feel weightless. “Do you still like me?” He smiles through his perfect teeth, “We could continue to wait,” he teases as he lifts you slightly, positioning you to hover over his throbbing length.

“I like you– I always have,” you try to sink down onto him but his strength keeps you hovering just above it. “Please don’t make me wait any longer,” you grip the back of his neck and pull him into you. “Please General, I need you more than anything,” it’s a whisper just for him, spoken into his parted lips.

You had imagined this day since the moment you met this man, and you had never once been nervous; but you’re trembling with anticipation, and now a twinge of fear surges through you as the blunt head of his cock nudges against your slick entrance. You can feel the heat of him, the hardness, pressing against your sensitive folds.

Marcus’ eyes lock onto yours, “Take me inside of you then, if you need me so badly.” He challenges you. “Sit down on my cock and let me feel your perfect pussy squeezing me,” he growls.

Panting softly, you reach between your bodies and grasp his rigid length. He feels massive in your small hand, hot and heavy, the veiny flesh like silken steel. Slowly, you rub the broad tip through your slick folds, coating him in your arousal. Then you notch him at your entrance and begin to lower yourself.

Marcus’ fingers dig into your hips enough to leave impressions as he guides how slowly you sink down onto him. “Gods, that’s it. Take it slow… let me feel you stretch around me, Aurelia,” Marcus groans as your tight, virgin heat engulfs him.

You’re whimpering as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth as he fills you inch by throbbing inch. A sharp twinge of pain makes you gasp, “By the gods.” Your head falls forward and you watch as Marcus’ length slowly disappears further inside of you.

"Shh, relax," he soothes, his grip on your hips easing up as he begins rubbing circles with his thumbs on your skin. "You're doing so well, taking me so deep."

It’s not bordering on pain, it’s searing through you. A fullness that has you spreading wider than ever before. Your body is quivering and your teeth clenched, your fingers grip into his broad shoulders once again for support.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, fingers biting harder into the flesh of your hips. "Squeezing me like a vice. Relax for me, Dove. Breathe."

It aches, everything inside of you feels like it’s being pulled taut, but there is pleasure starting to mingle with the pain. Finally, after what felt like an hour, you’re fully seated into his lap, hips flush against him. “Marcus,” you’re moaning now, breathlessly. “You’re so deep, I feel so fucking full.”

His hands roam as he lets you adjust, his calloused palms skimming your sides and cupping at your breasts. He leans forward and allows you to watch as only his tongue laves at your nipple. You mewl and tighten around him involuntarily, but your hips start to move. They rise up before sinking back down. The drag of his cock inside you is mind-numbingly incredible.

“Just like that, Dove. Ride me, ” Marcus rasps, matching your rhythm, hips rolling up to meet yours, pushing himself deeper.

You find a steady pace, rising and falling on his thick shaft. The bathhouse echoes with the sound of skin meeting skin, your shared moans of intense pleasure.

"Touch yourself for me," Marcus bids.

Moving one hand on his chest, you slide the other down your body to your aching clit. You rub in tight circles, gasping at the added stimulation between your legs. The pressure builds rapidly low in your belly as Marcus' throbbing tip pistons up into you.

"I'm getting close," you warn him, walls starting to flutter around his length.

His fingers dig into your hips again and he lifts you off his length entirely. “Not yet,” he growls.

You whine loudly at the sudden emptiness inside of you. “No no no, please don’t stop,” you beg, desperately trying to crawl back into his lap.

With his hands still on your waist Marcus turns you, facing away from him. One of his knees parts yours and his other leg slides between and spreads your legs wide.

“Hands,” Marcus orders, tapping the cool, marble armrests. You place both hands on either side, and let Marcus pull you back down into his lap slowly. You feel the tip of him at your gaped cunt and then he’s inside of you once again.

Marcus groans loudly at this new angle, “Fuck– you wanted to be claimed?” He bucks his hips up into yours, pushing your feet up onto their toes, “Stay there,” he demands, pulling your back into his chest. “You still want to be mine, Aurelia?”

You rest the back of your head against his shoulder and nod, “I do,” it’s a whisper as the stretch from this new angle leaves you almost breathless.

Marcus wraps one of his muscular forearms around your waist, the other anchors between your breasts. His fingers turn your chin to look up at him while still resting your head on him, he’s already gazing down at you. “Watch me fill you, and see how your cunt drips for The General,” he leans down, pressing his lips to yours as he begins to thrust up into you.

The drooling crown of him touches something inside of you, it makes you gasp, and then he does it again. It happens every time he slams himself into your dripping pussy. “Oh- Oh- Oh Mar–” You can no longer speak as he drives himself into you from below like this.

Marcus' thick, hard cock pumps in and out of you, each powerful thrust makes your tits bounce and jiggle against his strong hand. He roughly palms and squeezes the soft flesh, "You were made to take my cock," he groans in your ear, voice thick with lust. “Say it.”

"Gods yes," you gasp out, head lolling back against his shoulder as you surrender yourself to the intense, toe-curling sensation. “I was made for you – m-made to get f-fucked b-by you, ” you stutter whenever he bottoms out inside you.

Marcus wraps his hand around your throat, his thumb and finger pressing into the pulse point on the side of your neck.

With his cock still inside you, you pull one knee up, tucking your foot under your thigh and then do the same with the other. You moan as the angle shifts and increases the pressure behind your navel. His fingers and thumb begin to squeeze around your neck, the sound and feeling of your heartbeat in your temples grow more noticeable.

“Yes, little Dove,” he pulls nearly all the way out, until just the swollen head remains nestled inside you, before slamming up in a driving force.

The head of his cock kisses your innermost wall with each deep stroke, making you tense and flutter uncontrollably. His pace is fast and unrelenting.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room are almost lost on your ears over the rush of blood in your ears.

Your needy moans and his deep grunts are the only thing coming in clearly as you get lightheaded. Your hips push up away from him by a fraction of an inch as you arch your body, feeling warmth and pressure building in your stomach.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes! Don't stop!" you whimper between sobs, your pussy clenching and fluttering around his throbbing cock. His fingers ease up on your neck and he rubs your jaw with his thumb lovingly.

The pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming that it brings tears streaming down your face. You're not crying from pain, but from the ecstasy of finally being filled and stretched by his thick cock after all that teasing and foreplay.

Marcus presses his palm to the lowest part of your belly, pushing you back down into him. He keeps his hand pressed into you, adding a new pressure and tightness, “You feel me, Aurelia?” His hand pushes down into your belly harder.

“Marcus!” You cry out, the tip of him pushing up against your upper wall. You try to rear against him, but there is nowhere to go. Nowhere to get relief from the overwhelming wave of pleasure threatening to slam into you. The sensitive nerve bundle nested inside of you is being forced down into every ridge and vein of his cock. “I’m going to-to come,” you pant.

“Yes, little Dove. Come on my cock– let me ruin you,” he growls in your ear deeply. “You’ll crave me always; no one will ever fuck you the way I do. No one will ever make you feel the way I make you feel,” Marcus’s words with the weight of his touch on your stomach has you exploding. “You’ll never enjoy the touch of another once I’m finished with you,”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh — Marcus!” You keen loudly, pushing your body back against his forcefully. Your ass grinds into him while he fucks you into blinding and deafening release. The ability to form real words abandons you and you’re reduced to a sobbing, nearly screaming mess in Marcus’ lap.

“That’s my perfect girl,” he moans into your ear. “Come for The General.”

Before you know what’s happening, you’re empty. You’re feeling completely hollow while your head spins, and are being dragged back across the stone floor. The robe that had been left in a pile is being draped across your shoulders and laced quickly.

Marcus kisses your lips passionately, his hand finding your cheek, “Do you want me to really fuck you, Aurelia?” He’s murmuring against your lips. “Claim your cunt with my seed?”

You nod, still unable to think of anything beside the feeling that had just been raging through you.

“Then let me escort you back to your chambers, where your bed is soft and cushioned, and I will not hurt your knees or back on this hard floor,” he whispers back to you. “You’ll need to take comfort somewhere as you will get none from me. if I am going to be just as unforgiving.”

#marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal characters #smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #marcus acacius takes your virginity #general marcus acacius #x you

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h7quinn · 1 year ago

Text

Overwatch | “Honor and Glory” Overwatch | «Честь и слава» Please, let’s reblog my gifs, and send on the people. ^^

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatchedit #blizzard #gifs #2part #reinhardr wilhelm #овервотч #гифки #райнхардт

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astya96cc · 2 years ago

Photo

January Tops Collection 2023 Part 2

Part 1 [x]

top 04 (with | without sleeves)

52 swatches

new mesh

custom thumbnails

HQ compatible

top category

teen - elder

all morphs

thepancake1 slider compatible

top 05

52 swatches

new mesh

custom thumbnails

HQ compatible

top category

teen - elder

all morphs

thepancake1 slider compatible

top 06

52 swatches

new mesh

custom thumbnails

HQ compatible

top category

teen - elder

all morphs

thepancake1 slider compatible

Download: Early Access at Patreon or Boosty (Public access in February 8)

#sims 4 #s4cc #ts4cc #ts4 cc #s4 cc #sims 4 cc #s4top #the sims 4 custom content #January Collection #new mesh #astya96

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littlemisscantloveyouback · 3 months ago

Note

Hi, it’s the anon that requested the short!reader request, 10/10 thank you so much 🕺

Sounds like a 2part to me lol

T.w.⚠: rough sex, fingering, reader is kind of anxious, Dom logan, dirty talk.

Part two to this story

Logan was coming home today and you couldn't stop thinking about what you said last night, you were just really horny last night and didn't mean to say that but Logan didn't know that.

You were teaching a class when he came home, he stood in the doorway then sat in one of the empty seats in the back of the class.

You felt your breath hitch and saw him smirking at you, you were so flustered but kept on teaching.

After class, he spoke as he walked over to your desk. "So, y/n, do you have something to say?" He stood over you as you sat in your chair and looked down at the floor not wanting to face him.

He lifted your face to look at him as he knelt in front of you. "Come on, Logan, you know how I get, and we can't have sex here. What if someone hears." He started to rub your inner thigh as he held his eye contact.

"Yes I do know how you get but," he pulled you closer as he whispered in your ear. "You know how I get." With skilled fingers, Logan begins to unbutton your blouse, revealing the lace of your bra beneath. He takes his time, savoring the moment as he exposes your creamy skin inch by inch. His touch is gentle yet possessive, making you ache with need. "You're gorgeous, Y/n," he breathes, his lips trailing kisses along your collarbone.

You gasp as his fingers glide beneath your bra, cupping your breasts and thumbing your hardening nipples. He teases them, rolling and pinching gently, until you're squirming with pleasure. "Please, Logan," you beg, your voice hoarse with desire."Not yet," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to taste you first." Logan slides down, kneeling before you, and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt. He tugs it down your thighs, revealing your lace-clad thighs and the moist fabric of your panties.

You're wet, and you know it. Logan's mere presence has you dripping with anticipation. He runs his fingers along the edge of your panties, making you shiver as he traces your slit through the silk. "So wet already," he growls, his voice thick with desire.

Logan hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and slowly pulls them down, exposing your glistening pussy. He leans in, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin. "Beautiful," he murmurs, before his tongue makes contact with your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

His mouth is hot and skilled, licking and sucking your sensitive bud. He teases you with light, feathery touches, making you squirm and moan. You grip the edge of the desk, your knuckles turning white as you struggle to hold on as his tongue works its magic.

"Oh, Logan," you cry out, your hips thrusting involuntarily as he sucks your clit between his lips. He inserts a finger into your wetness, curling it to find your sweet spot. Your body tightens around his finger as he strokes you from the inside, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come for me, Y/n," he urges, his voice muffled against your core. He adds another finger, stretching you, filling you with a delicious fullness as he continues to lick and suck your clit. You're on the precipice, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

With one final, firm flick of his tongue, you explode, crying out his name as your orgasm rips through you. Your body shakes, trembling with the force of your release, and Logan continues to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

As your breathing slowly returns to normal, Logan stands, his eyes dark with desire. "My turn," he growls, his voice laced with hunger. He wastes no time, unzipping his pants and freeing his thick, throbbing cock. It stands proudly, already glistening with pre-cum.

He positions himself behind you, his hands on your hips as he guides his cock to your entrance. "Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, Logan, please," you plead, craving his possession. He teases you, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick folds, making you whimper with need. Then, with one firm thrust, he buries himself inside you.

You gasp as he fills you, stretching you deliciously. Logan's hands grip your hips, guiding you as he sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with primal urgency. The desk creaks beneath you as he fucks you hard and deep, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Logan grunts, his breath hot on your neck. He reaches around, finding your clit with his thumb, and begins to rub in circles, sending you spiraling towards another climax.

You cry out, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. "I'm gonna come, Logan!" you shout, your voice echoing off the classroom walls. He pounds into you harder, his own release imminent.

With a final, powerful thrust, Logan empties himself inside you, his hot cum filling your pussy as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

As your breathing slows, Logan leans in, his lips brushing your ear. "That was one hell of a lesson, Y/n, I missed you" he whispers, his voice satisfied.

Anyway I loved writing this thank you for reading bye<3333

#logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman #wolverine deadpool #worst logan #logan howlett x you #dbf!logan #wolverine smut #hugh jackman x female reader #sexy gurl #hugh jackman fanfiction #logan howlett #logan howlett masterlist #ryan reynolds #hugh jackman x you #old man logan x reader #logan howlett smut #logan wolverine

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bornonthesavage · 2 years ago

Text

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Eddie Munson was having a crisis. No, maybe that was too strong a word. This was just a minor existential examination of everything he’d ever known. Because up until today, it had been a known truth of the universe that all jocks were irredeemable assholes whose sole purpose in life was to make Eddies worse. And for the most part, that was still what he believed. Except, now there was big, glaring dent in this truth. A big, glaring dent in the form of Steve Harrington.

When he’d looked up and seen that stupid, handsome face, he’d immediately known he was about to have a bad time. Would probably have his papers stomped on, maybe a few books ripped. So one can forgive Eddie his momentary lack of brain function when Steve actually got down and started to help. And then he apologized. Like, actually apologized. And he seemed sincere. Which had completely knocked the wind out of Eddie’s sails. He’d been so prepared to say something scathing, to mock him and then hightail it out of there before he got his ass kicked.

But then, to make it worse, Steve knew about Dungeons and Dragons. And he babysat. He babysat nerdy kids who played Dungeons and Dragons, and he offered that information up like it was nothing. Like it didn’t rock Eddie to his very fucking core. And then, of course, he delivered the killing blow in the form of a genuine smile. Like he was made of fucking sunshine.

Goddamn it. Eddie had done such a good job at keeping his horrible, ill-advised crushes on straight boys under control. Because sure, he’d looked at Steve before. It was impossible not to, when he looked like freaking Apollo, all golden tanned and built like a dream. Being that Eddie was the only queer guy he knew of in Hawkins, it wasn’t like he had any choice but to have crushes on straight guys. Pickings were slim, and Eddie was starving.

So yes, he’d snuck a look at Steve in the past. Either in the halls, or as he jogged around the track field, or on one memorable occasion when he’d accidentally stumbled into a swim meet and caught an eyeful of tight little swim trunks. But that was fine. Looking was fine.

Only, now he’d talked to him. And Steve was no longer just a hot, mean jock. Because he hadn’t seemed mean at all. He’d seemed pretty nice, actually. Maybe that was what happened, when a person lost everything that had once made them what they were. Now, Steve had to reinvent what he was. Well, if that was the case, he was off to a pretty good start. Maybe Eddie could give him a few pointers. Take him under his wing. Maybe Steve would---

No. No! He was not going to go down that rabbit hole. That was dangerous. What he needed to do was stay far away from Steve Harrington. That pretty boy was nothing but trouble, and Eddie had more than enough of that in his life as it was.

He dragged his pillow up and pressed it over his face before screaming into it. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t actually be this weak. One nice smile sent his way, and he was ready to drop all his carefully crafted walls. It was pathetic.

Eddie rolled off his bed and climbed to his feet. This was fine. It wasn’t like Steve was ever going to talk to him again. Today had been a total fluke. From now on he could go back to sneaking glances across crowded rooms. So really, there was no need to dwell on this. He repeated that sentiment as he made his way out of his room and to the kitchen, where he proceeded to make the worlds loudest bowl of cereal. And the thing was, he didn’t even realize how hard he was slamming the cabinets until Wayne looked up from the tv.

“Eds, what on Gods green earth has gotten you so worked up?”

He huffed. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Wayne gave him a look. “Now I know that ain’t true. The only time you slam shit is when you’ve gotten yourself all worked up about something. So, spill.”

Eddie growled and shoved the milk roughly back into the fridge. “It’s just… Gah!” He scooped up a too big bite of cereal and shoveled into his mouth. “Stupid boys! And their stupid smiles!”

Wayne, of course, knew about Eddie. Had know for years. But they didn’t talk about it. Not beyond the initial talk they’d had, when Wayne had assured him that he would love and support Eddie no matter what. And then, after that, the very awkward and horrible discussion about safe sex. Which wasn’t an issue for Eddie, considering he was a virgin.

“Well,” Wayne said slowly. “I can’t say I relate. But, yeah. I understand the sentiment.”

Eddie shook his head and glared into his bowl. “He thinks he can just smile at me, and I’ll forget about what a douche bag he was.”

Wayne hummed. “No, you don’t want to be getting mixed up with that sort.”

“Exactly!” Eddie cried, pointing his spoon at his uncle. “Exactly.”

Without another word, he turned and scampered back into his room. Once he was safely tucked into his cocoon of blankets, he let himself ruminate on the problem of Steve. Because really, what sort of name was that. Steve. Just a boring old name. The kind of name Eddie imagined a mailman to have.

Steve could be a mailman, if he wanted to. He’d look good, in those khaki shorts. Eddie could picture him, biceps bulging as he hefted a large package to Eddie’s door. Maybe he’d be hot and would need to come inside to cool down. And once inside, maybe he’d feel the need to deliver a different sort of package… No! Shit, no no no.

Eddie clamped his teeth down on his spoon hard enough to hurt. This was ridiculous. Harrington didn’t deserve a starring role in his fantasies. It wasn’t like he’d done anything great. So what, he’d picked up a few papers. Big deal. No, it was imperative that Eddie put Steve out of his mind completely.

That became an issue the very next day. Eddie was situated at the head of the lunch table, just like always. His pack of merry freaks lined the table, already talking over each other about one thing or another. Gareth and Jeff had their head bowed together, discussing something to do with D&D. Josie and Mic were arguing over something that had happened in history class, while Grant and Todd discussed a movie they’d gone to see over the past weekend. Eddie grinned as he observed his friends. This was his domain, and there was peace.

At least there was, until out of the corner of his eyes, Eddie spotted an approaching enemy. And okay, maybe it was a bit much to call Steve an enemy. Before yesterday, sure. But now… Steve was an anomaly. An anomaly that was rapidly approaching their table with a tray in hand. Eddie sat frozen, his eyes wide, all the way up until Steve stopped beside him. The rest of the table seemed to have noticed him as well, as they’d fallen silent. Steve smiled down at Eddie as if he weren’t doing the strangest thing that had ever happened at Hawkins High.

“Hey Eddie, what’s up?”

He could physically feel his brain reeling, searching in his files for what the appropriate response to this situation was. All he could come up with was a garbled “Wha?”

Steve didn’t seem phased. “I said, what’s up? How’re you doing?”’

Eddie blinked rapidly. “Uh, yeah man. I’m fine. Did you… need something?”

“Oh, actually.” Steve reached around into his back pocket and pulled out a folded black square of cloth. A very familiar one, at that. He’d honestly thought he’d lost it. But to see it now, held out in Steve Harrington’s hand, was almost too much. Eddie choked.

“You dropped this yesterday, and I wanted to give it back. Wasn’t sure if it had any significant meaning to you.”

Yeah, you could say that. Eddie reached out slowly, almost afraid Steve was about to rip his hand away and call him out. Tell the whole school what a black hanky meant, and what that made Eddie. But that didn’t happen. Steve allowed the cloth to slip through his fingers, all the while wearing that same casual grin.

“Oh, um. Thanks dude.”

“It’s no problem,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie expected him to leave, now that he’d done his daily good deed or whatever. But he didn’t. Steve continued to stand beside him, looking infuriatingly normal. As if this wasn’t so, so weird. Then, to make matters even more bizarre, he turned his smile on the rest of the table.

“Hey guys.”

It took monumental effort, but Eddie finally managed to drag his eyes away from Steve and back to his friends. It was actually pretty funny, the way they all wore matching expression of astoundment and confusion. Their faces looked the way Eddie felt on the inside. Nobody gave a response. When Steve still didn’t leave, Eddie cleared his throat.

“Uh, was there something else you needed?”

Steve’s expression shifted then, turning almost bashful. Eddie despised how cute he found it. “Actually, yeah. I was sort of wondering if I could sit with you?”

The silence that rang, following that statement, was loud. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see his friends begin to shift with distrust. Because yeah, this was really bizarre. At least Eddie had some context, given their encounter yesterday. But had Steve really fallen so low, so desperate for friends, that he was willing to slum it with the freaks?

The awkwardness seemed to finally catch up with Steve, as he began to ramble. “It’s just, I was late to the cafeteria, so my usual table is taken. And, I mean, I guess I could go eat outside or in the library, but that seems like a level of lame I’d rather not fall to. So I saw you, and remembered I had to return your bandana. And then I saw you had extra chairs and figured I’d ask. But if not it’s fine, I can go—”

“No!”

Eddie wanted to clamp a hand over his own stupid mouth. Did he have to sound so loud and eager? Fuck, he really was pathetic. But at least Steve wasn’t much better, with the way he was staring down at Eddie with those big, brown eyes.

“I just mean, no, it’s fine. You can sit with us.” Eddie explained. His shin received a hard kick from under the table, but he ignored it. “If his highness wishes to dine with the peasants, who am I to deny him?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I already told you, I’m not a king anymore.”

“Ah!” Eddie cried, leaping to his feet. “A fallen heir. How tragic. Well, I always have room in my court for a weary traveler.”

What the fuck was he doing? He should be telling Steve to go away, to leave them alone. There was no way this was going to be a good thing for his newfound straight boy crush. And yet his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, that filthy traitor. And it was worse, when Steve lit up like Eddie had just told him today was second Christmas. Because oh no. Now Eddie wanted to see that again. He wanted to please Steve Harrington.

“Oh, cool. Thanks. I can sit down at the end, if you want.”

Yeah, that would be good. Put some distance between them. Of course, his stupid fucking mouth had other ideas. “No, it’s fine. Just pull a chair up next to me.”

Fuck! That wasn’t what he’d meant to say! God dammit. But it was too late, because Steve was already beaming like a kid at Disneyland. Eddie watched as he set his tray down, then walked to a nearby table and stole a chair to drag over. He shot a panicked glance at his friends, and found that they were all looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Gareth’s face very clearly said “What the hell are you doing?” Eddie sent him a desperate shrug.

Steve plopped down right beside Eddie. Which was so stupid, because there definitely wasn’t enough room at the head of the table for two people. It forced them to sit practically pressed against each other, with Steve’s warm thigh lining up perfectly with Eddie’s leg. Steve didn’t even seem to notice. He just cast a guileless smile around to the rest of the gang.

“So, what’s up?”

Based on all the blank faces, that seemed to be what everyone else was thinking. Jeff was the first that seemed to recover, as he cast a look between Steve and Eddie. “Uh, yeah, we’re kind of wondering the same thing.”

Steve ripped open a bag of chips and threw a few into his mouth. “Oh, shit, sorry. Did Eddie not tell you? We sort of started talking yesterday when I accidentally ran into him. We shared some minor bonding over my slight knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons, so we’re pretty much friends now.”

They were? What the fuck? This was news to him! The rest of the group was looking at Eddie now though, and he was really not prepared to unpack all this with an audience. He waved his hands.

“All of you, as you were. Stop gawking like heathens, just because we have a bit of fresh meat at the table.”

There were several shouts of indignation, but Eddie silenced them with a look. They would discuss this later, but not here. It wasn’t like Eddie was opposed to making a scene. Oh no, he engaged in a good bit of table theater at least once per week. But in this instance, he had no idea what to make of this new development. It was unnerving, and Eddie needed time to poke at it before he made any moves. Surely Steve had some ulterior motives. Whatever they were, Eddie would find them.

Reluctantly, the rest of the group went back to their conversations. Which left Eddie with Steve, who was looking at him with an amused curl to his mouth.

“What?”

“That was pretty impressive.”

“What was?”

Steve rolled his eyes. What a bitch. “How you got them all to listen to you. I could use a few pointers. Maybe then I could get the middle schoolers I look after to actually do what I say for once.”

Eddie grinned wide, showing off all his teeth. “It’s all in the presentation, Stevie boy. If you hold yourself like you’re the one in charge, everyone else will listen.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Steve said, chewing slowly. “That’s kind of what I used to do. It works better on people our age, though. Middle schoolers can see through an act like nobody’s business.”

“Well then, Stevie boy, make sure it’s not an act.”

Steve huffed. “That’s easier said than done. Especially when I have no clue what I’m doing most of the time. Fake it till you make it only works when you have at least a tiny bit of a plan. I’m just out here wandering through the dark.”

Well shit, that sounded awfully close to vulnerability. “Careful, Steve, you don’t want to go around admitting that sort of thing where predators might hear you.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow up. “What, like you?”

Huh. Nobody, ever, in their right mind had referred to Eddie as a predator. No, he figured he belonged somewhere in the small mammal category. Like a gopher, or maybe a mink. You could probably make a real nice fur coat out of him.

“Buddy boy, out of the two of us, I think you fall more in line with the predators.”

Steve hummed and popped a grape into his mouth. Eddie watched, transfixed, as Steve rolled the fruit around in his mouth. First to one cheek, then the other, before letting it pop back to the front of his teeth. What the fuck? Just eat the damn thing!

“I feel like I’m more of a golden retriever,” he eventually said. “Does that count as a predator?”

Eddie snorted. “No, it doesn’t. But I’m not so sure about a golden retriever. You’re too bitchy for that. Maybe a different breed.”

“And which breed would that be?” Steve asked, tilting his head.

“Don’t know. Can’t say I know you all that well.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, as though considering. “That’s fair. Tell you what, once we hang out a little more, you let me know which breed of dog you think I am. Okay?”

Eddie knew he should object, tell him to go find someone else to bother. But he was, in fact, a weak, weak man. And here Steve Harrington was, saying he wanted to hang out. And he was supposed to, what? Tell him no? Have restraint? Self-respect? It was overrated. Especially when compared with the opportunity to sit in the presence of a very pretty boy. So, Eddie found himself nodding his head, meeting Steve’s eye.

“Alright Harrington. You’ve got a deal.”

Read and follow along on AO3

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #these boys don't know what they've gotten themselves into

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