#ps: not marcus

[callmesel]

My ipad died so I can't colour it rn

BUT

I want you guys to see this because I'm proud and I was inspired I I haven't done a "detail" drawing in some time sooo

Red Riding hood Percy x Big Wolf Oliver (first not doodle like Oliver too!)

Gonna colour it tomorrow, probably can't really promess

[kaontic]

The hype is so real somebody embodied it and claimed it as their identity. (⊙_⊙)

[lostboys-fangposting]

personally i think aro instated a no swearing rule for volturi members and caius truthfully doesn't care whether or not someone swears he'd say fuck every other word if it was socially acceptable so long as it's not during a trial (if a trial turns into a battle then it's cool, get those feelings out)

and the only reason why he goes with it is because aro is truthfully worse than him when he throws a tantrum

[thedeadthree]

OLGA (tlou) ⚕️| IRYNA + vasil (tlou) 💀

AEREA (star wars) 🔮 | ALPHONSA + lord barkus (dao) 🕊

VINDAMEA (tesv) 🗡 | CARANTHIR (tesv) 👑

VIOLANTE (dbd) 🕷 | EDWEN (vtm) ♟

UNA (hotd) 🐍 | VALAENYA + dark sister (asoiaf) ⚔️

TAGGED BY @jendoe, @chuckhansen, @phillipsgraves, @shadowglens, @detectivelokis, @aceghosts, @florbelles, @leviiackrman, @shellibisshe, @minaharkers, @corvosattano, @nightbloodraelle, and @aartyom to make a few dears in this cutest picrew! ty so much loves!

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @unholymilf, @marivenah, @gwynbleidd, @queennymeria, @denerims, @girlbosselrond, @honeysofte, @gelvaan, @calenhads, @rosebarsoap and @kingsroad <3

[citrine-elephant]

resisting the urge to dive into the lore of gears of war again oh no

[juletheghoul]

too close

a/n: Yeah. The trailer got me again. I can't help myself!!! Also - I didn't actually want to write feelings for these two but I have no say anymore. They have feelings, they are obsessed with each other and I can't just ignore it lol. Not beta’d and barely proofread- any mistakes or errors are my own. Hopefully you enjoy! (PS I did a little research on fruits in Roman times- they had no word for orange, so any shade of orange was just called red)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy and I don't CARE, giving him that gluckgluck3000, creampie, Marcus gets hurt (hurt comfort), hand stuff from him because he's my precious man and he likes to give his girl pleasure, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus (for now?👀), **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

You frowned, despite your station, the confusion and slight worry breaking through the years of training your face to remain neutral. For a moment, you forgot your place.

“But-“ he turned, head tilted in curiosity instead of anger, thankfully, “I am to stay here? You do not wish me to accompany you Dominus? To pour and serve…?” You could not keep the slight hurt from your voice, much to your dismay. 

“No Girl, you will stay here, at the villa.” He saw the confusion, the unabashed anguish on your face and his expression softened, “peace Girl, it is not a matter of not desiring your presence or your service.” You listened to him with a lump in your throat, a wild fear seizing your heart that he might have grown tired of you. 

“I will not have the luxury of a tent, the rebellion is small enough that I can squash it and be back in less than a moon’s turn.” He came close, close enough to have your face tilt up to stare into his eyes. “I would not have you waiting for me in such a meagre camp, I would not have you sleeping in the dirt.” His hand settled on your arm, a soft offering, a reassurance but it did nothing to calm you. You have grown so accustomed to having him close, to ending up in his bed of a night more often than not before heading to your own, naked and pleasantly sore; to falling asleep with his seed trickling out of your puffy little cunt.

“I am comfortable wherever you are Dominus, I could still be of use, to light your fires-“ 

“I would have you here, and safe. That is my decision, and no amount of temptation will sway me from it.” He lifted your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers in silent, but firm apology. You knew there was nothing to be said, you had already pushed the matter far more than would be allowed on a normal day. 

“Your will, Dominus.” You bowed your head, despite the hurt and worry swirling around in your belly. “I will pray to the Gods for your swift victory, and safe return home.” 

He nodded, leaving shortly after. 

Time passed, and a feeling of restlessness took firm root in your being. The house felt empty, despite the attendants and sentinels left to guard them as well as the property. The days found you listless, moving through the motions of your chores and daily duties practically numb. The days were marks on the wall of your mind, praying to the Gods to send him back to you. 

Whispers travelled swiftly through the city, through the market stalls and through the villa itself, most of them rumours and it was difficult to keep your emotions in check. 

He has advanced

He has killed the leaders of the rebellion

He is victorious, already on his way home

He has been hurt

He is dead

He is victorious - Rome's favoured son has triumphed once more

The moon turned, once, and then twice, finally a third time before he was home. The all encompassing relief was short lived however, that wash of relief turned to ashes in your mouth at the sight of him. One of the rumours had been true after all. A sword wound to the side had laid him low late into the battle, it hadn’t killed him, thank the Gods, but it had slowed him down and made his journey home nothing short of agony. 

Your heart raced to see him weakened, every fibre of your being itched to run to him, to press your lips to skin but you refrained. You stood aside, dutifully, letting his trusted soldiers practically carry him to his bed. The older women got to work, bringing fortified wine with all manner of powders and potions to aid in his recovery while you stood next to him, the little half-moon marks in your palms from your nails barely felt like anything compared to the ache in the back of your throat. 

Your eyes would not leave his face. 

He looked so tired, mud and grime still marring his skin as he lay prone on his bed. To forfend the ugly thoughts swirling around in your mind, you focused on the tasks at hand. 

He needs to be cleansed, after he eats something I will boil some water and move gently, leave him to gather his strength. An offering must be made so the Gods will hasten his healing-

“Girl.” His voice was soft, and instantly you rushed to his side. 

“Yes Dominus, I am here.” You took his hand tentatively, your heart soared to feel him squeeze it. 

“Fetch me some broth, and help me to sit up–a few pillows behind me. I would sit upright.” 

You rushed to comply, happy to focus on his instructions. With soft touch, you did your best to prop him up, biting your lip to stop your eyes from welling up when he winced. Once satisfied, you set about fetching hot water and linens, as well as his broth. He sighed at the sight of it, and drank almost all of it within a few heartbeats. 

“Shall I help you cleanse now Dominus?” You brought the basin closer, showing him the steaming water and he nodded. 

Tentatively, you removed the soiled clothes he wore, ears pricked up for any sign of discomfort. He beared it with good grace, keeping the twinges of pain to himself, you imagined for your benefit, and you were grateful. It took time, but finally, you had divested him of everything, and he half sat, half laid on his bed, not an ounce of shame for his nakedness. It was secondary, to see him bare, more alarming was the soiled linens with the dark bloom of dried blood staining it on his side like some grotesque flower. 

He was pale, weak, his injury robbing him of his normal, ruddy health. He watched you, his expression somewhere between exhaustion, and a calm content. 

With gentle hands, you dipped the clean linen into the steaming water of the basin, and methodically cleaned the dirt, and dried blood from his skin. Eventually his eyes closed, soft sighs filled the air with every pass of the warm cloth across his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his thighs, his hands, until you reached the contours of his face. The lines were more defined, this battle had taken a toll on him. 

Your thumbs smoothed over his brows, wiping dust and worry away with a bone deep gratitude that he had come back. He melted into your touch, and you tried and failed to suppress the smile. 

“I must clean the wound, Dominus.” You reached for more clean dressings, giving him a chance to steel himself but he kept his eyes closed. You thought he might have fallen asleep, but he nodded, and so you did what needed to be done. 

To his great credit, he didn’t make a sound. Even as you cleaned at the angry, but healing edges of the wound. He said nothing when you packed it with the poultice one of the women had brought, when you covered it in a clean dressing, even as he drank down the no doubt foul tasting potion to help him sleep. Instead he settled back, and sighed, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. 

You gathered all of the soiled clothing and discarded bandages, and moved to leave him to rest but his hand snatched at your wrist. 

“Wait, Girl, stay. Stay with me–” His words were almost slurred, and he didn’t finish his thought, his hand loosened around your wrist but you stayed, taking great care to lie beside him on his bed, and watched him sleep. Your heart raced with something you couldn’t–wouldn't name, something that threaded through your ribcage like smoke, wreathing its way around your lungs and taking root in your heart. You pressed the back of your hand to his brow, thankful that no fever lurked there and once satisfied that he was indeed resting, you rested your head next to his. 

Sleep took you, swiftly and without warning. 

The world outside was dark when your eyes opened, and it took a moment for you to get your bearings. His warm skin pressed to your arm and you jolted with the memory of his injury. 

“Peace, girl, I am well.” His voice was quiet, but stronger than before, “You did well in changing my dressings.” His praise squeezed at something in your belly, robbing you of any words you might have had. “You must be hungry, go and fetch something to eat and bring it here, I will share the meal with you.” The concern in his voice brought a smile to your lips, his thoughts on you, despite the pain he must have been in. 

“Yes Dominus, shall I fetch more of the potion as well? You should rest-” He raised his hand softly to forestall you. 

“I have rested enough, I would have my wits about me just now. Go on, you may fetch whatever else you need, I would have you sleeping in my bed.” 

His words rung in your ears as you moved throughout the silent house. They shone through your eyes as you piled a serving tray with olives and cheese, with bread and ripe fruits. They camped in your belly as it rolled with something when they repeated over and over like a prayer in your mind as you filled a serving jug with the wine he favoured, they strengthened your grip as you carried it with the utmost care down the moonlit halls of the house, almost sharpening your eyesight to bring you swiftly back to him. 

You set it down between you on his bed, careful not to spill anything or jostle him too much and just in time too, the hunger rung out from your empty belly loud as thunder but you ignored it, your priority was to help him sit up.

“Eat Girl, you are starving. I will pick at my leisure.” He frowned, gesturing to the food and you were grateful beyond words. It was a quiet meal, but comfortable. He usually ate by himself, most of the time while in his study and with you, it was after chores and duties had been completed. Despite all of your trysts and time spent together, it was the first meal you’d ever shared. 

“You do not favour the olives.” He said it without judgement. You shook your head shyly, covering your mouth to speak through bites of bread and cheese. 

“My desire for them is unpredictable.” He tilted his head, “Sometimes, they are all I want. Other times, I cannot stand the sight of them.” You wrinkled your nose, confirming that this time, the latter statement was true.

He smiled, huffing out an amused laugh through his nose.

“What else do you like? I see you favour the fruit, which one do you like most of all?” It was strange to be asked about yourself, no one in your life had ever wondered about what you might of preferred, for anything.

“Figs, I think. Pomegranates too, although peeling them takes a lifetime.” He huffed again, wincing slightly, “Are you in pain? Shall I fetch–” He raised a hand. 

“I am well, continue. Why do you favour them if they are so troublesome to eat?” He shifted a tiny bit, with great effort, turning to face you better. The room was dark, save for the few candles burning and the moon shining in through his window, casting stark shadows across his lovely face. 

“They are worth the effort.” 

He smiled, and finally reaches over to help himself to the food. Something about the darkness, about the quiet seclusion made you bolder.

“What about you Dominus? Is there a fruit you favour?” Your heart raced, fear that you might have overstepped grabbing hold of you but it was for naught, he merely frowned in thought. 

“I prefer plums.” He said after a moment, “I like figs as well.” It was both exhilarating and strange to speak with him like that, in the quiet dark, almost comfortable. “Although–in my younger days we fought in Spain, and there I tasted a fruit I have never seen again, I do not know the name of it but I enjoyed it very much.” 

“What was it like?”

“It was round, a strange shade of red with a thick peel but underneath it had segments like a lemon.” He continued eating, and you were content to sit with him, only moving the tray once he had eaten his fill.

“It is good to be home.” The words came out as a sigh, “I missed it while I was away, more than any other time I must admit.” He shifted slightly and winced again, “Help me lay flat, my back aches from sitting.” He held out his hand and you rushed to oblige, moving pillows and positioning him flat on his back. “That is better, gratitude Girl, let us blow out the candles and settle in.” 

“Yes Dominus.”

“Have you something to sleep in? What is most comfortable for you?” 

“I am content in this, Dominus.” You gestured to your tunic as you made your way around the room, snuffing out the candlelight.

“That is not what I asked you.” There was no bite in his words, but the expectation of truth was plain as day. 

“Most nights I sleep in the nude, it is what is most comfortable for me.” You made your way back to the bed but he did not let you get in. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable, there is no expectation from me, much as I have missed the pleasures of your body. I would have you sleep how you are accustomed.” You nodded once, undressing down to your skin before slipping into bed with him. In the dark, in the quiet, it was peaceful and the sound of his steady breathing worked it spell on you quicker than you would have thought. 

“Gratitude Girl.” He said it soft, and with a full belly and heavy lids, you questioned him. 

“For what Dominus?” The words were almost slurred, as the heavy press of sleep pushed you into the deep pool of blackness. You thought you heard him say everything, but you could not be sure, sleep had claimed you. 

-

You woke with the sun, the first few rays sliding across your skin like water and it was hard to move from your place. In the night, your body had brought you close to him, seeking out the warmth of him. He was still asleep, but his legs had tangled up with yours and it was strange to lay with him like this, both of you nude as the day you were born, yet incredibly comforting. 

You took the time to check over his wound, and were pleased to find it looking much better. The edges of it stitching together, thankfully without corruption. 

“It does not hurt as much as it did before.” His voice was sleepy, “I will be back on my feet soon enough.”

“Let me dress Dominus, and I will fetch you something to break your fast.” 

“Not just yet.” He shifted, and although you helped him, he didn’t struggle quite as much. “Come, lie with me.” He held out his arm, and you went to him, trembling like a leaf to rest your head on his shoulder. “Gods, I missed you, Girl.” He buried his nose into the mess of your hair and something inside you grew and swelled, was fed and made strong by his words and by his skin. 

“I missed you, Dominus.” Truer words had never been spoken by you, the ache for him had been unbearable.

“Did you?” There was something underneath, something desperate and had it not been so early, so peaceful, he might not have asked.

“Desperately Dominus, I feared you had abandoned me, I feared you no longer desired me.” You pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in, his scent, his warmth, him- sustenance

“Come now, Girl, you know of my desire for you, it is like a thirst I cannot quench. A hunger I cannot satisfy, despite my dark moods, despite my sour face, you are a source of joy and pleasure I have not known in some time.” His hand brought your face up, his gaze burned into yours and his words affected you so that tears welled in your eyes. He wiped them away, and the tenderness was too much, a sob clawed its way out from your throat. All of the worry, all of the fear that he might have left you alone in the world, to be sold to another bubbled up and he held you as you cried.

“Do you wish to be free of me? Is that why you cry?” Something in his voice broke your heart.

“No Dominus, no-“ you wiped at your eyes, moving to look him in the eye and the expression you saw in them was almost too much to bear. “I have never been so happy in all my life, I have never felt about anyone, the way I feel for you.” You pressed your lips to his, petal-soft. 

“Sometimes, the things I feel for you are almost too big for my body, I want to be with you always, I want to feel you always. I feared so much while you were gone that I could barely eat, barely sleep-” Your words were frantic, so many things to get out that you could barely speak and he pulled you close, shushing you softly. 

“My heart swells to hear you speak this way.” He reached down, sliding his hand towards the hinge in your knee, to pull it over his thigh. “Peace, let us just enjoy the silence.” You nodded into his neck, letting go of a great breath in your lungs. 

“If I was myself, and whole, I would be pulling every ounce of pleasure from you now.” 

You laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

“Soon enough Dominus, I would have you healthy and healed.” Your hand slid up the smooth expanse of his chest, threading through the curls at the base of his skull. “Once your wound has healed, you may have me any way you please.” 

“Any way?” His tone darkened, and your body responded, thighs clenching, heart racing, nipples hardening. “Any way I please? And what if I want you for a day and a night? What if I want you wet and spread for me in this bed until you’re so full of my gift it spills all over my linens?” The hand that had been softly stroking your back moved down and grabbed at your backside, pulling until the lips of your sex spread open. 

A moan slipped out at the feel of his hands, and he all but growled. 

“Do not make those noises Girl, not when I cannot fuck you how I wish to.” He pulled your face up, licking into your mouth with a hunger you could not satisfy, not in his current state. 

“Dominus, I beg of you not to taunt me, not when we cannot indulge.” You kissed him again, despite your words and finally he pulled away, the tremble of frustration in his grip. You shifted, and felt his manhood press against your thigh, the sight of him, leaking and hard against his belly made you sigh. 

“Do not concern yourself with that, I am ravenous for you, but my body cannot fulfill the wishes of my cock. Go and fetch something to break our fast. I will need you to change my dressing as well, if you could.” He sent you off with a kiss, and with desire dripping onto your thighs. 

“Yes Dominus.” You smiled, and rushed off to do what needed to be done. 

-

Weeks passed, and he healed beautifully. His wound knit together cleanly and with that, his strength came back. More often than not he stood and cleansed without your help, he left the safety of his bed and his chambers and sported a genuine smile as he made his rounds through his house.

You trailed behind him, your own smile in place to see him coming back into himself. 

Things were different. He was different. 

He spoke more, that was for one. Before he would keep his own council, his words were curt and his thoughts would be kept close to his chest. Some nights he reverted to his silence, but it had grown into something peaceful, something comfortable.

The biggest change though, was his attitude towards you. 

For one, he refused to sleep alone. The darkness of night found you tending to his needs and after the candles had been snuffed- he pulled your tunic off and pulled you into his bed, into his arms. 

At first, you thought it was his injury, a fear that he might suffer some setback in his sleep, but as the days passed on and he was well past the point of danger, he still refused to let you go. 

His desire had come back too, much quicker than his body could handle. Mornings would find you in the cage of his arms, with his lust pressed hard and hot at the cleft of your ass. You would pull away so as not to tease him, and he would let you at first, but as his body caught up to him, he stopped letting you pull away. 

Most mornings, he’d whisper how much he missed burying himself inside you, how he couldn’t wait to gift you with his seed while slipping his fingers between your legs and swirling them around your clit, only stopping after you’d fluttered around his fingers. Then he’d send you off to fetch food with a smile on your face and an ever-growing ache between your thighs. 

A part of you fretted as to why he hadn’t taken you yet, as the days passed it was clear that he was well enough to indulge. Another part, a hopeful, possibly quite foolish part of you thought maybe he was waiting for you to ask him. That couldn’t be, could it? You ruminated on your previous encounters, yes–he’d called you forth to warm his bed, but with every recalled memory it was clear that in his own way, he'd let you decide whether to push things or not. A luxury you knew was rare. It was an intoxicating thought though, to think that you could decide when and what you wanted him to do.

So many possibilities. 

When night came, you brought him his meal, and his wine and tried to keep the tremble of excitement out of your hands. You watched him move about his chambers, his strength back to normal as he dipped his hands into the fresh water in his basin. His hair had grown out a little, dark with silver mixed through and that thought struck you again, that he was some beautiful marble statue come to life. An emperor of old, standing before you in all his glory. 

“Dominus-” You called to him, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes raised, finding you as he dried his hands. 

“Before you take your meal, I would ask something of you.” Your voice shook, never had you openly asked him for anything before. He raised his eyebrows, more surprised than anything.

“What would you have of me Girl?” He moved towards you, eyes curious. 

“I would have you–” You stopped him, guiding him to sit on his bed, “I would have you sit here, and accept my mouth.” 

You kneeled before him, staring up at him with your lip caught between your teeth. Your hands landed on his knees, sliding up to pull his tunic up to expose his manhood. For a moment, he stared at you with wide, surprised eyes. 

“I have missed our times together, I have missed you filling me of a night and as much as I treasure your fingers in the morning, I would have you feel pleasure at my hand–or, my mouth.” He did not stop you from exposing him and heat flooded your body to see how quickly his cock responded to your words, to the soft exploration of your hand. 

“You would do this?” His palm landed on your shoulder, sliding up to cup your cheek. “You have no obligation, I would not command you to do this should you not want to.” You spit onto your palm and grasped him in hand and despite his words, he shudderred to feel the way you stroked him. 

“I dream about this Dominus, I desire you so deeply that I ache for you–” You opened your mouth and took the blunt tip of him into your mouth. He moaned, slack-jawed at the sight of you. You placed open mouthed kisses at the tip, and the sensitive underside, stroking at the base of him. His thighs spread, making room for you and you relished the warm strength of them under your arms. 

He tasted like the ocean. 

“God’s above Girl-” You pulled away, smiling as you continued to stroke him, he barely fit in the palm of your hand and with his passion dribbling out and your spit the sounds were loud and slick. Your own arousal unspooled between your legs, the ache intensifying as he tensed underneath you, hissing when you pressed soft kisses to the scar at his side, to the softness of his belly, to the firm golden thighs bracketing you to his hips. 

“Open your mouth.” His confidence resurfaced, and then his hand wrapped around yours, guiding you to stroke him the way he liked. He guided the reddened tip into your mouth. “Look at me when you take me in your mouth, open wide, I want to touch your throat.” You moaned around him, taking him deeper, breathing through your nose in an attempt to stay calm. 

“That’s it Girl, Gods be damned-” His tone was filthy as he held you there, eyes watering until you pulled away, sputtering and messy. 

“If you continue, I will spill in your mouth.” he guided your hand still, slowly stroking himself against your lips, smearing your spit and his salty arousal onto your lips. Never in your life have you felt that powerful, that beautiful, with tears spilling down your face and slick dripping down your thighs. He held himself suspended in his pleasure, awaiting your word. 

“Would you like to spill in my mouth Dominus? Or would you like to fill my cunt?” You held out your tongue, letting him rub the tip of himself against it while he decided. Your heart soared to see the conflict on his face. 

“I would fill your cunt, I have missed it terribly.” You smiled and rose with a final kiss to his cock and once you did, he ripped the tunic off your body. The loud tear of it made you squeal with a mix of shock and excitement. 

“I promise you, I will not last.” He all but tossed you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide for his gaze. “Greedy little cunt, so wet for me.” He spoke in a daze, staring at the place that ached at the mere thought of him. He slipped down and it’s with a shock that you watched him dip down to spear into you with his tongue. Never had anyone used their mouth on you and the sight of it was almost too much to bear.

It’s with a greedy, filthy groan that his lips dragged up to latch around the pert little pearl of you, his tongue stroking, stroking, stroking while his mouth suctioned around it. Your body was a taut string, legs shaking under the strong grip of his hands, holding you to him tight enough to hurt. Your breathing came in pants, the climax was already there, balancing on a knife's edge, so close you could almost taste it.

His hands moved, sliding up to pinch at your nipples and the wave crested. Your hands gripped into his curls, both holding him close, and desperately pushing him away while you fluttered into his mouth. 

You felt the strong muscle of his tongue slide down, drinking you from the source. 

He made his way back up, your slick shining on his face and on his whiskers. You’re almost too shocked, and too shy to look into his eyes. 

“I confess, I have wanted to do that for a long time.” He pulled his tunic up and off as you lay under him, boneless. “I know it’s not something commonly done, but I enjoy it. Did you enjoy it? I felt you flutter.” He raised your leg, wrapping it around his hip while his cock slipped inside you without any resistance. You let out a relieved sigh, finally, he was home. 

“Yes Dominus–” You almost whispered, half-shy as he dropped down, his arms holding himself up on either side of your skull. “No one has ever–Oh–” He snapped his hips hard, unable to hold himself back and already, the need built in your core, robbing you of any coherent thoughts. 

“No one but me ever will.” He kissed you, making you taste yourself and it was so perverse, so exhilarating you held him close, wrapping your arms and legs around him to feel as much of him as you could. His cock pushed and pulled, hitting that special place he owned and with a handful of thrusts, and a punched out groan he filled you with his gift. Finally. 

He watched himself pull out of the mess he'd made, watched in silence as his gift dripped out and onto his linens. 

Things felt different this time, there’s a vulnerability, an intimacy that is almost overwhelming. You pulled his face up, and pressed your lips to his softly, praying that you conveyed the feelings swirling in your chest. He kissed you back, his hand gliding up to wrap around your neck. When you opened your eyes, his brow was furrowed, the same feelings shining back at you through his dark eyes. 

Seconds passed, and the feeling did not disperse. Before he would have sent you away, but he held you close. Wordlessly he pressed his lips to yours over and over, he stroked at your skin, your shoulder and your thigh high on his ribs, your breast, your lips. He moved off, and went about dampening a cloth to clean himself off of you. Once he was done, he brought the food you’d served him and fed you from his own hand. 

You accepted the food, smiling shyly as he watched you, something like affection, like love shining out through his eyes. 

“Thank you Dominus–” He shook his head, a small frown at your words. 

“Call me Marcus.”

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[jobean12-blog]

Falling First

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!princess! reader

Word Count: 1,842

Summary: It's your first time meeting the General and he leaves a lasting impression.

Author's Note: I'm having so much fun writing about these two and I'm so so thankful that others are enjoying it as well! Thank you for the continued support, it means so much! If you want to read the other stories they are all on my Pedro ML below, but this can be a stand alone. I wanted to write something for their initial meeting and I loved incorporating the book/poetry stuff! I have an idea for what comes next too! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

PS- If you would like to read the poem I reference you can do so HERE: It's called 'Be Patient" by Horace from his collection of books 'The Odes'

Warnings: The General should come with a warning of his own, tension, soft moments, mentions of battle and blood, poetry.

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

You're so absorbed in the words on the page that you almost don’t hear the burst of blaring voices as they ring out in cheer. On a gasp you sit up and press the book to your chest, grabbing the edge of your chair when your feet feel the vibrations of the stone beneath.

Forcing your feet to move you rush to the window and look out, shielding your eyes from the bright sun as it glints off the gold armor adorning the man that approaches. You can’t see much more but you know you should not be hidden away in the library.

Just when you walk out onto the portico, he ascends the last step and stands imposingly, addressing the royal family with a warm smile and a slight tilt of his head.

He catches your eye, and his gaze lingers before he greets the emperor. As if in a trance you move closer, slipping past the guards to get a better look.

As he speaks you watch him, noting the way his large body moves with precision and his dark eyes seem to consider everything that surrounds him.

His eyes flit back to you when he catches you staring, and you see the corner of his mouth lift slightly but as quickly as it happens his attention is elsewhere and you’re clutching your book more tightly to your chest.

You try to look away, but you’re completely captivated. The gold crown that sits atop his hair gleams against his dark curls and his tanned skin glistens in the heat of the sun. As your eyes wander down his broad back your breathing quickens, and you dare to drop your gaze lower.

His legs are thick and strong, spread wide to match the width of his shoulders, and when he turns to face you, his large and strong hands are clasped gently at his waist.

You hear your name being called but it seems distant and it’s not until your father steps into your line of sight that you’re shaken from your trance.

“General Marcus Acacius,” the emperor says, “this is my daughter.”

His penetrating gaze sweeps over you and he smiles while extending his hand.

You continue to stare until your father loudly clears his throat then remember yourself. He takes your hand in his and you feel warmth spread along your skin and when he lifts your fingers to his lips your breath catches in your throat.

“Princess,” he hums before brushing his mouth along the back of your hand. “A pleasure.”

“General Acacius,” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper.

He’s still holding onto your hand when his eyes fall to the book you grip in your other arm.

“May I?” he asks.

You look down, just now remembering you even had it. With an audible swallow you pass it to him. He drops your hand slowly and you mourn the loss of his touch.

“The Odes,” he murmurs as he reads the title. “A poetry lover?”

“I am,” you reply, waiting as he carefully thumbs through the book.

“Ah, here it is,” he says and takes a step closer.

He shows you the page with a poem titled “Be Patient,” and you give him a questioning look.

His head lowers until his warm breath tickles your ear.

“One of my favorites,” he whispers. “I would love to know what you think.”

When his eyes find yours once again, they are sparkling.

“You look surprised.”

You steal yourself and your eyes widen.

“No, not at all General Acacius. Forgive me. It is just…”

Your words trail off and you look down at your feet.

“Just what?” he asks, drawing your attention back to his face.

“I did not expect you to have a love for the written word.”

He huffs out a laugh.

“I have a love for many things and one of them happens to be poetry.”

You open your mouth to speak, hoping to correct your mishap and assure him you meant nothing demeaning but when he reaches for your free hand and kisses your knuckles the words die on your parted lips.

“I very much look forward to seeing you again, Princess.”

Your answer, filled with equal desire, is too quiet for him to hear but something in his expression tells you he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

You stare after him as he excuses himself and let out the breath you were holding then turn on your heel and run back to the library, already perusing the words on the page.

“Are you joining us for the entertainment?”

To your father’s question you lift your eyes from your book.

“Must I?” you ask.

Your father sighs. “If you wish to miss the General’s first fight then that is your own choice, but it will not look…”

“He is going to fight?”

The question rushes out of you and when your father’s eyes narrow you quickly compose yourself with an expected continuation of words.

“I did not realize that he would. I only thought he commanded the armies.”

“My sweet and naïve daughter. Perhaps if you spent less time reading about romance and love you would know more about what really goes on in this empire.”

You place your book down and stand, squaring your shoulder and lifting your chin.

“I will attend.”

As you follow your father you start to hear the deafening crowd, their cries ringing out in the hot open air and filling it with an ominous energy.

You sit and search the arena floor of the Colosseum and see nothing but gladiators.

“Where…?” You start to ask but the question dies on your lips when the crowd erupts into even louder chants.

The doors at the far end swing open and he walks out, his sword at his side. You watch with bated breath as he moves with powerful steps toward the line of gladiators. He lifts his sword to his shoulder and bows his head.

You barely notice the silence that now surrounds you, only hearing the heavy thumping of your heart as you wait and watch. Time seems to stand still before suddenly he lets out a battle cry and charges.

The sound of screams and clashing swords drift up to your ears and you try to track his movements, try to watch which weapon hits which man but it becomes too overwhelming, and you turn your eyes downward.

Your actions go unnoticed as your father is utterly entranced by the scene below, a wicked smile on his face.

It’s only when the crowd’s sound grows to an unbearable roar that you glance down into the arena to find the General standing tall, surrounded by the fallen gladiators.

“Oh, thank the gods,” you whisper.

Your father rejoices with those around him and then turns to you, smiling widely.

“Now that, my daughter, is a gladiator and the General of our armies!”

You nod in agreement and give him a small smile.

“Come! We must offer our congratulations and praise.”

Your father ushers you out of the Imperial Box and away from the crowds. When you’re back in the quiet of the palace you await General Acacius, your skin tingling and your heart still racing.

“Ah! There he is,” your father announces.

The General appears and steps forward, greeting your father. He’s immediately drawn into boisterous conversation, graciously accepting your father’s praise but always his eyes are drawn to you.

After what feels like forever the emperor walks off to continue his celebrating, leaving you and General Acacius alone.

You’re leaning against the cool stone wall when he steps into your space, filling it with the scent of Earth and the tang of blood.

“And what did you think of the entertainment today?” he asks.

You look up into his eyes, stray curls framing his face that’s still dusty with dirt and caked with smudges of dried blood, and your fingers itch to reach out and touch him.

“Do you want my honest answer?” you ask.

“Always Princess.”

“It was the first time I have ever witnessed a fight in the Colosseum. It was…difficult to watch.”

You look down, realizing that your words may come off as offensive and dig your teeth into your bottom lip.

Rough and calloused fingers graze your chin as he presses his fingers under it and lifts your eyes to his. He studies you, his eyes dropping to your lips before rising again.

“You came today…for me.”

It’s not really a question and you can see the light of triumph in his gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Although most of the time I was looking at my feet.”

His thumb delicately brushes your bottom lip.

“And why is that?”

“It is terrifying! I could barely keep up with you. One second, you’re here then there…swords are swinging- the screaming- the blood!”

Your words spill out louder than intended and by the time you finish talking you’re breathing more heavily.

“You need not worry for me Princess. I assure you I can handle anything they throw at me.”

He steps closer and you press yourself into the wall.

“Who said I was worried?”

For the first time you see a real smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

It’s hard not to smile back and you find yourself giggling, the sound ringing out in the large hall. It only makes his own smile grow.

His fingers ghost along your jawline and he cradles your cheek in his hand. “Have you read the poem?”

“I have.”

“And you will give me your honest opinion of course.”

“I loved it,” you tell him. “His words are full of restrained passion, and I find them very enchanting. But patience…I often find it difficult.”  

His expression turns intense and his gaze wanders over your face.

“Yet it can bring such rewards,” he whispers.

He drops his head to your neck and lightly runs his nose along your skin, the motion making you tremble.

“General?” you sigh as your eyes flutter closed.

With a deep inhale his lips trail upwards and along your cheek. You dare not open your eyes and wait with your next breath stuck in your throat.

“Perhaps next time we can read it together?” he whispers against your mouth.

You nod and flatten your palms against his chest to steady yourself.

“Is that a yes Princess?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, opening your eyes.

His lips hover just above yours and he tucks his thumb under your chin, tilting your face so he can press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. His lips linger, savoring the feel and taste of your skin before he draws himself away.

“I will be counting the minutes until then,” he says with a bow.

You wait until he’s out of sight and slump against the wall, pressing your fingers to the spot where the feel of his lips still burns into your skin, and try to find balance in the dizzying new world around you.

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @lizette50 @tripletstephaniescp

[annamatix]

saw a tiktok that made me realize: arcane is shaped by its daughters and sons. it's shaped by parent-child relationships and experiences. its shaped by parents molding their children, raising their children, just. anything with their children.

silco to jinx, jinx to isha, vander to jinx & vi, cassandra to caitlyn, ambessa to mel, benzo to ekko, ximena to jayce, singed to viktor.

hell, even singed to his daughter and marcus to his.

all of them, all shaped and nurtured and made them because of their parents. whether for good or bad. and vice versa.

also: excluding the men. "is there anything so undoing as a daughter?" its proven no. again and again it's proven there isn't anything as undoing as a daughter because all of the parents' demise are their daughters. every single parent. EVERY. SINGLE ONE. die or lose themselves or something of the sort because of their daughters, in one way or another. the daughters of arcane are PLENTIFUL. the daughters of arcane are the main characters. they shape the narrative. they're everywhere.

( PS here's the heart-wrenching, gut-punching, knife-twisting edit i was talking about: )

[baronessvonglitter]

Ready When You Are

husband!Marcus Pike x wife!Reader

Word count: 2K

Summary: you and your husband Marcus Pike can't stop thinking about trying for a baby...

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, fluff, established relationship, talk of having a baby, reader wears lingerie, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, playful rough/dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv (actively trying to get preggo), if I missed anything please let me know!

Author's note: this is for @fluffygoffpanda I hope this scratches that itch! Jesus do you have good taste in men for this particular kink. PS I don't know what pink cloud punch is, but I can tell you that if you pour Sprite over rainbow sherbet it's sooo gooood!

MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

It's one of those "modern" baby showers where men are guests, but inevitably drift to the den where a football game is on. The women mill about the kitchen and dining room, sampling dishes, gossiping, exchanging stories about their own pregnancies.

Marcus seemed more excited about the get-together than you were, and despite having migrated to the other room for the game, he keeps sneaking back to the kitchen, swiping a pinwheel sandwich, or a petits fours. You can tell he's half-listening to the little nuggets of advice being passed around, and watching the presents being opened, yellow and pink and blue tissue paper blanketing the floor. 

Your youngest sister looks resplendent in her flowy pink floral maternity dress, her hands continually resting on her bump, protective, almost queenly. "I'm so happy for you," you tell her for the hundredth time, kissing her cheek.

She smiles, sipping a frothy cup of pink cloud punch. "Sister, when's it going to be your turn?"

"For what?" Marcus asks, appearing behind you, enveloping you in his arms.

"For a baby," you answer him, giving him a little smile, a rosiness painting your cheeks. You've been married almost a year, and though you've both talked about eventually starting a family, you haven't chosen a time on when exactly to begin.

"No pressure," you sister says quickly. "It's a serious decision."

You are the last of your siblings to have a child. Even your older brother has twins in elementary school.

"We'll talk about it when you're ready," Marcus says, giving your hand a soft kiss.

You expect him to be the one to bring it up, to possibly goad you into talking about it, or at least planning what names you'd use. But he's seemingly forgotten about it on the drive home after the party, making dinner plans with friends for next weekend, and going to see your favorite band in town when they finally come there on tour.

It's not until the next morning that you bring it up over coffee at your favorite diner. 

"Would you want to start trying for a baby?"

Marcus stops, coffee cup halfway to his lips. Then he breaks into a grin, only resuming his poker face for only a moment to say: "I'm ready when you are."

You nod, letting the pieces fall together in your brain. There are unknowable factors, of course, but you wouldn't be alone, and you'd be having a child with the absolute love of your life.

"I'm ready. I want to have a baby with you."

The smile on Marcus's face could light up the entire Eastern Seaboard. He takes your hands across the table, leaning in for a kiss. "I'm so glad, because honestly I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since the baby shower yesterday," he admits a little sheepishly.

His enthusiasm is contagious, lifting your heart and erasing any doubts you had. "Do you think we're ready?" you have to ask.

"Babe," he says. "You're too perfect of a person to not be making the world better by adding a few more of you to it."

You sigh in mock exasperation. "How do you know exactly what to say?"

He chuckles, but his expression softens when he looks at you. "I'm in if you're in. I mean that."

Thinking about it takes up your entire day. You look up baby names, maternity wear, childbirth options, the best OBGYNs in the area. Then you go further, checking out the schools, wondering if you should trust public or go private. Then colleges. Which one is best for which degree?

Marcus thinks it's cute when you call him to tell him what you've been working on all day. "Sounds like you're really, really serious about this," he says.

"You'll be home soon?" you ask, checking your hair in the mirror one last time.

"I'm about five minutes away. Why?"

"I have a surprise for you. Drive safe."

Naturally Marcus has to restrain himself from speeding the next couple blocks to your home. Just as he's about to unlock the front door you open it, wearing a teddy in his favorite shade on you.

"Just in time," you purr, grabbing him inside by the collar.

"What's going on?" he smirks, happily led by you to the bedroom. 

"What do you think?" you smirk back. The bed is strewn with rose petals, and you perch yourself in the middle of it, an utter vision to Marcus's eyes. He follows you, led by a primal instinct to take you, to hold you and make you his.

"I didn't take my birth control pill today," you tell him. "In fact, I threw them all out."

His brows rise, heart skips a beat, mouth fills with saliva. "Why'd you do that?" he asks slowly, even though he already knows.

"Because tonight I want you to get me pregnant."

It's as if the air has been squeezed from his lungs. He tries to maintain composure, knowing you wouldn't tease him, nor would you take such a decision lightly. "You're sure, babe?"

You nod as his hand cups your chin, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "I want you to fill me up, over and over again tonight. I want to be dripping with your cum for days."

An image of him fucking you, his seed taking root, your belly swelling with his child, breasts getting fuller and sweet with milk, runs through his brain, tapping into the primal side of him. He whispers your name, grabs hold of you in a kiss, hands wandering under your teddy to caress your body, smoothing over your curves, cup your breasts.

You bring his hand to your cunt, already so moist and ready for him, giving a shuddering sigh as he works two fingers inside, jaw tensing when he feels how wet you are.

"Breed me, Marcus," you whisper, your breath tickling his ear. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stands up. What am I still doing with my clothes on? he wonders, then is thankful that you've taken the initiative, relieving him of his jacket, his tie, belt, shirt, pants, and everything else. 

His cock pulses in your hand, his precum already dribbling over the top. Laying on your back, he scoots between your legs. "What about your work?"

"I'll work from home. Hell, I could even do advisor work until the kids are old enough for school," you say, wrapping your arms around him.

"Kids.. plural?" he grins. "How many?" His lips ghost across your ear, nibbling your lobe.

"Two," you sigh, running your hands down his back. "I don't want an odd number. I didn't like being the middle child."

He kisses your forehead, as if to take those memories away. "One boy and one girl?"

"Perfect," you sigh again, trailing your foot along his calf.

Desire and love fill his senses, make him your servant, all he can see and breathe is you. Imagining you getting big with his child, making a soul with him, creating a little legacy, even for the short amount of time you're both promised on this earth.. Marcus's heart feels like it shouldn't fit in his chest anymore.

You whimper his name. nudging your hips against his. He slips your teddy over your head, revealing your soft skin, the body he's come to worship night after night during the happiest time of his life. 

He captures your lips in another passionate kiss, tongue brushing against yours with fervor. Then he pins your arms over your head, spreads your thighs further apart. "You're so eager for it, so eager for me to cum inside you."

You shiver, not bothering to suppress a whimper. "I am, baby. I want it all.."

Fuck, you're not even teasing, not even pretending, not role playing.. Marcus's head is nearly spinning with his new reality. His head drops into your neck as he breathes in your scent, your shampoo and your own natural aroma, and of course the sweet and spicy essence of your pussy. He lifts his head to catch your gaze. "I love you," he utters as he slides into you.

"I love you," you gasp in return, letting yourself be helpless beneath his soft grip. He buries himself in you until his hips meet yours, and you can't tell where he ends and you begin. Your tightness has him reeling, his mind spinning with want.

"You feel so good, babe," he groans in your ear. He withdraws almost completely before pushing forward again, a shiver rolling through him at the sensation. He starts a slow, languid pace.

"Marcus," you moan, your hips undulating against his in the rhythmic dance. He squeezes your hip, loosening slightly on your wrists pinned over your head, but you keep them there, enjoying the illusion of being at his mercy, of being bred. 

His mouth trails kisses down your neck as pleasure thrums throughout your body. "You feel like heaven," he mutters, moving leisurely as he takes note of the sounds that leave your mouth with each forward thrust of his. 

"More.." you gasp, tilting your hips up to get him deeper, not wanting to miss out on a single inch. 

"You want more? You want me to spill all my cum into you, give you a baby?"

Biting your lip you moan his name as he increases the pace, thrusts steady and fast.  "Keep moaning my name," he whispers. "Scream for me.. let the neighbors know who's inside you, making you feel this good."

"Christ," you gasp, pressing your hands to the headboard, the sound of it banging against the wall exciting you. "Want everyone to know I'm yours.."

"That's it," he says, hearing your moans and sighs coming faster. "Almost there? I'm gonna cum but I want to get you there first, you gotta cum first, that's what I want." At the sound of your whimper he kisses you deeply, pulling your lower lip between his teeth before pushing his tongue in your mouth, seeking your own. He moans low as heat builds in his lower belly.

He's hitting a place inside you that sends flutters through your cunt, the pleasure rising and rising until it becomes a fever, a fucking force of nature that threatens to claim you. 

"Come, darling," he grunts, knowing your body, knowing you're on the edge with him. His hips quicken their work, the sound of your bodies colliding is almost obscene.

You come undone beneath him, squeezing around him rhythmically and his hand moves between you to tease your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm, his own hips slowing as he watches the pleasure wash over you.

"God, you're so beautiful," he says, his forehead against yours, your hot panting breaths fanning across his face. 

"Marcus," you beg. "Put a baby in me.."

Aftershocks still wrack your body as he thrusts again, and your still-sensitive body wants to come with him. He rubs your clit again, working you back up, waking your senses again. 

He's getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge with you. Mumbling words of love, of adoration, he feels his climax rising in his balls, the pressure building up further and further. Only when he feels you come again, convulsing hard around him, does he give a final, hard thrust before he follows you, coming deep inside you, shaking and shuddering. At last he groans your name, muffled in the crook of your neck as his mind goes blank for a heavenly minute.

It's several minutes before either of you speaks, the moment too precious, too beautiful to break with mere words. He slides off you, keeping you close, not wanting to lose your warmth right away.

"I love you," you murmur at last. "Maybe we made some magic tonight."

"Maybe," he chuckles, his heart overflowing with love for you. "If not, we can always keep trying." He cups your beautiful face in his hands. "I want a family with you if that's what's meant for us."

"I want that. A little family.."

He smirks, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Give me a few minutes, we can give it another try. Just to make sure."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[b00tyliciousbabe]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

barbie tingz

marcus scribner x THICC male reader

summary: just marcus loving you like with his heart, soul, and FAT SCHLONG. slight feminisation - don’t kill me.

notes: LOVELIES! hope everyone is having a beautiful day. i wanted to let y’all know that i will be taking a lil break because it’s exam season. don’t be sad…because this means i have an entire summer of smutty content to write and catch up on! ps. each word in this fic is me being another squat closer to the fattest ass in the world. ENJOY!

ALSO! the met gala is tonight! my favourite event of the year, i might make a short rec…how do we feel about that?

song rec: ‘freak’ - victoria monét

marcus was well on his way to establishing a name for himself in hollywood. booking new roles, alongside his debut as a director, he was on track for a career that would rival his mentors. but if you were to ask him what his biggest achievement was, he would say being with you. the corny mf has actually reiterated his adoration multiple times during interviews, and the world is obsessed with how lovestruck he was. aside from being social media’s favourite young couple, you, yourself, had a blossoming career in fashion that meant you were styling your man to make sure he looked good for his press tours.

notoriously, you garnered a reputation for EATING UP on the carpet - zendaya being your only competition. this ain’t no exaggeration, but every time you’d step out, those fits would break the internet. thus, when the news dropped that you’d be attending the premiere with your boyfriend, all eyes would be on you - yet again. having you on his arm, instantly elevated his aesthetic. not that he ever saw you as some pawn too boost his career, you meant the world to him, but your beauty as his trophy wife made him even more palatable. usually, you’d have an entire glam team by your side cultivating your iconic, polished look. but, you and marcus had both been working so hard, to the detriment of your relationship, and so you decided to spend the night at his, agreeing to do all the glam yourself.

‘Y/N,’ Marcus bellowed from downstairs, putting on his rings, and spraying cologne onto his clothes. ‘baby, we gotta go.’

‘Y/N! over here! to the left! Y/N!’ a flurry of paparazzi screamed. ‘the body is TEA!’ one reporter exclaimed, making you laugh.

you graciously blushed. they weren’t wrong, your pear-shaped figure, defined abs, and toned arms were nothing short of a sculpted masterpiece. amidst the bbl allegations on twitter, and every tabloid claiming to have the secret to getting an ass as perfect as yours, YOU were the standard. a beautiful, androgynous mix of allure and charm. not even chris evans, america’s ass, said that you had the best glutes in the industry. it was a thing of wonder; something so many lusted for, and even more desired to have a piece of whilst having you in backshots. there were an array of wolf whistles from the public whenever you walked, swiftly followed by a gaggle of photographers snapping shots of your post-gym bawd.

marcus soon joined you on the carpet after finishing up on his interview. if the sensory overstimulation of flashes and cheers wasn’t enough, this was heightened when marcus snaked his arm around your lower back. whispering sweet nothings into your ear, spectators were foaming at the mouth by his public proclamations of love, hiding your blush from the world.

‘don’t be shy,’ he said lifting your chin to his face. ‘there’s that smile I love.’ the whole crowd was gushing, you could’ve cringed at how clingy he was being in public, but found his confidence to do so, all the more endearing.

one thing that you sly liked about marcus, was how he jealous he could get, so many of his friends and industry buffs would come up to talk to you during the interviews, coming up for hugs, and even though he trusted you, his need to protect had him riled. marcus had a great relationship with all of his co-stars and they all became such a family over the filming process. you being there made the family even stronger, embodying the role of MOTHERRR in more ways than one, and they all appreciated your kindness. always there to soften the stressful tones of your bf’s criticism.

you were particularly close with his friend from another project, and due to mutual management you spent a lot of time in the same spaces. he came up and hugged you from behind, before being whisked away to speak with another reporter. all but a few seconds, lasted an eternity, the worst kind, burned into the possessive psyche of your man.

moments passed and it was time for group pictures on the carpet. you and marc were dead center, with his large hands gripping you tighter than usual. you looked up to see he was scowling, ‘lighten up bubs.’ you giggled, to which your bf fixed his face - he could never stay mad when you were always there to calm his demons. not long after, the same face screw, that made his nose look so cute came back, as he remembered the voices of the media resounding in his head.

‘damn I’d hit that.’

‘Marcus is one lucky mf to be all up in dat pussy’

‘I bet the recoil on that thing is insane.’

it infuriated him to hear how the public spoke about you, as if you were some object, and not the kind person he grew so enamoured with. ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you gon’ beg me for mercy.’ he whispered , breaking that veneer of respectability for a brief moment, squeezing your butt, then turning back to smile at the cameras. you’d never seen that side to him, it’d be a lie to say it didn’t turn you on.

throughout the screening, he made sure to let you know that all your teasing would soon be dealt with. the vulgar remarks were still plaguing him, and you knew you were about to be on the receiving end of it. literally.

‘upstairs.’ he said sternly,

the two of you started kissing, unbuttoning his shirt as he unbuckled your pants to free the globes of juicy flesh he loved so much. strewn across the floor, all fear of creasing the custom couture outfit you were wearing had disappeared - the overwhelming desire to make love to your boyfriend clouded your judgement.

you get down to business, kneeling to align your lips with his cock head. ‘don’t take this the wrong way.’ marcus sighed, urging you to stand up, so frail against how tall your man stood.

‘Y/N, i just wanna fuck right now.’

you knew how badly he needed this, and a part of you liked how desperate he was to be inside you. but it was bizarre, marcus loved watching you suck him off, getting him all lubed to plough your hole, almost as much as you loved gagging on his meat. nonetheless, you obliged, bending over as you had your knees on the edge of the bed, hole puckering at the chill of the air. marcus grabbed your left cheek, caressing and massaging your upper hip.

‘so fucking soft.’ he whispers against your skin, kissing at your taint. it was as if he snapped out of his love drunk trance, and was left a primal shell of himself. he practically ripped off your underwear, leaving your naked bodies to rub up on each other as he scrambled to find lube.

‘fuuuuuuuk’ he groaned.

his thick schlong fit like a glove in your inviting hole, slick from your desire and his precum.

‘damn i missed that boy pussy’ - LIES. that man combusts if he isn’t inside of you at least 4 times a week - wtf was there to miss? this sentiment made you smile at how whipped he was for you though.

his pace quickened. pulling his entire length out of you, except his bulbous tip, and spitting directly on your pussy to get you even more slick. ‘hear that baby,’ he praised the ‘mac n cheese’ sloppiness of your hole. ‘your pussy was made for me.’ he was right; most guys love skinny twinks because their petite butts made their tops’ look hung. despite the voluptuous curves you had, you were ample in both chest and derrière making average look like a micro penis inside you. all but marcus. he overpowered you in ways no other man could, his thick, girthy cock stretched you out in a way that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. not to mention his length, during your first time he could barely fit half in without it feeling like he was stabbing your insides. but after some practice, you started taking him - ALL of him.

his grunts deepened. ‘practically begging me to cum inside that hole.’ gripping your hair up fucking you in doggy. style. marcus began leaving love bites on your neck, marking you for all to see. his big hand crossed to caress your childbearing hips. whoever said men can’t get pregnant must’ve never accounted for marcus’ determination. his dick wanted to make you a mother so badly, and nothing was going to stop him trying.

‘you can take it.’ he praises. ‘all. of. it.’ slamming into you with a bold rhythm on his final three words. and that you could. your hole was heaven for him. every time he would enter, your thick meaty globes would bounce like jelly on his lower abdomen, making marcus even more inclined to give you your reward. you moaned out in ecstasy, your bodies were made for one another.

‘who’s pussy is this?’ his grip on your neck became tighter, still allowing you to moan out in response, ‘it’s yours marky, all yours.’ fuck. you were whipped, almost as much as he was. ‘that’s right baby, moan for me.’

‘scream like the little bitch you are.’ you and marcus both enjoyed the passion of rough sex, but this was something you hadn’t ever seen in him before. he was a beast and you loved it, way more than you could ever admit. there was something sweet about the high you were on as you were being impaled by his dick.

particularly, he relished in hearing your slutty cries, ‘music to my fucking ears.’ praising you ‘my pretty little slut, fuck yeah, you want my load.’

‘fuck yeah marc, give it to me please.’ you screeched, loving how hard he was clapping your cheeks.

‘shiiiiiiit, baby, fuuuuuck.’ he spouted, spilling his pearliness into your pussy. he used his thumbs to kneed the dough around your hips, losing himself in the bakery he so enjoyed visiting every morning for breakfast.

gently, he collapsed on top of you, still inside the warmth of your flesh. after a gentle make out sesh, cockwarming your boyfriend until he was soft, your bf brushed up against you. massaging your thick thighs, marcus tended to the bruises he gave, kissing them reassuringly. you ushered him to lay his head between your pecs, as he put his entire body weight onto you. he sighed deeply, feeling safe in your warm embrace. ‘marc, is everything okay?’ you stroke his face, as your fingers laced into his curls. he snickered groggily, ‘shouldn’t i be asking you the same thing?’ - a fair question because he litch just wrecked your shit. ‘real, but we both know that in a couple hours i’ll be fine.’ a silence filled the room, concern brewing in your heart. you played with his ear, knowing how he becomes putty in your hands. ‘fuuuuuck, you ain’t gon’ stop unless i talk, right?’ you kept quiet, trailing the tips of your fingers on his lobe. he sighed deeply, ‘i just get so possessive over you.’ his last words muffled by your ample bosom as he came to the realisation that the press’ words got to him more than he thought.

sitting up, marcus exhaled deeply. ‘i can’t even blame them for ogling, you’re so beautiful.’ ‘but u ain’t an object, and i hate that people treat you like that.’ you caressed his cheek with a loving care. ‘call it jealousy, possession, toxic - I don’t care. you’re all mine.’ marcus always felt the need to take care of what was his, doing better than what he had seen throughout his childhood.

you had an idea, trailing your fingers down his torso, circling his belly button, ‘why don’t you show me again?’ whispering into his ear as he breathed out in pleasure.

you kissed his cheek, before slowly massaging his dick tip, ‘how much do you love me.’

marcus turned you over. stroking and licking his ear, y’all were so intimate. he held onto the grooves of your waist, fucking into you slowly, marking your neck with his saliva.

‘you’re such a dream to me Y/N,’ he always had a way with words that made you smile like a school girl. ‘I was so selfish before, you didn’t even come.’ you always placed marcus’ pleasure above your own, but he was never satisfied with just brutalising your hole. he needed you to enjoy taking his dick, just as much as he enjoyed gaping your hole.

‘guess I’ll have to fuck another load in, to get one out of you.’ he joked, sucking on the sweet skin of your plump ass.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

[caroljoky]

𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑜𝒹𝓈 - Prologue

Caracalla x female!OC x Geta(next chapters)

Chapter 1 is here!

Summary:

How did the Emperors gain power? What was their past like? What made Caracalla a madman?

Lucia Galeria Aurelia is the forgotten daughter of Lucilla and Maximus. One day her life changes forever when her path crosses with the young Caracalla. She starts to take an active part in the life of Rome, captivating not only the Roman people but also someone fate condemned her to - certain red-haired rulers.

Warnings: english is not my first language(!), none in the prologue

AN: I am so VERY excited about thiss!!!!! I wrote it so quickly cause I had the whole story planned. My story includes an alternative ending to the movie (because let's be honest Caracalla didn't deserve that brutal sudden death) so bear with me and let me welcome you to my story!

Trope: enemies to lovers (duh)

(PS: in History Caracalla was the older brother - in the movie it’s adapted that they’re twins, but Caracalla still came out first and is considered older)

Word count: 1.3k (Prologue)

‘Lucia Galeria Aurelia’ was the name of the not-really-known young girl, conceived by Lucilla Aurelia and Maximus Meridius, who was born exactly 9 months after the death of the infamous Commodus, and came into this world in her mother’s chamber, which was to be her home until she reached adolescence – or perhaps a hideout, a ‘refuge’ as Lucilla liked to put it. Her mother was a problematic woman in terms of care – she sent her son to the far north, and cut her daughter off from the world. However, the daughter got it worse, the daughter who became a ‘legend’ of Rome, a vague, shameful ‘memory’ of her mother’s and father’s secret relationship. When Lucius was forgotten, she was spoken of in whispers and with uncertainty, like an anecdote or a fairy tale. However, her relatives visited her regularly, helped raise her, shape her. Acacius brought her Marcus Aurelius's books, her mother taught her culture and virtues, as well as her servants whom she had had since childhood, but whom she treated as her closest family. A mysterious man from outside the family also came once in a while to speak with her, a man whom she met through Acacius - it was Macrinus Opellius, The Master of Gladiators. Yes, he introduced the little girl to the ideas of games, war, and brutality, taught her about the Empire, showed her the true face of Rome, showed her power. Her mother reprehensibly forbade Macrinus from approaching her chambers, forbade him from acquainting her with the deviations of the world of men. So for the first time, the girl began to sneak away, to go all over the Golden House, to the brothels, to look for Macrinus, so he could tell her more about rulers, about wars, about strength and honor. This is how she lived until she reached the age of 17 - the age of adolescence, the age when Rome changed drastically.

The reign was held by Septimius Severus, who took charge after Commodus and turned the people against the authority. This tyrant procreated, unfortunately for everyone, fathered two tiny twins, whom he decided to raise in his image, that is, raise madmen. It didn't work out for him entirely - Geta and Caracalla, as youngsters, behaved better than expected, trained in combat, learned about Rome in the great palace of the Domus Aurea (Golden House), the home of the emperor, and the irony of fate never brought them into contact with the rightful empress. There may have been times when Lucia sneaked secretly through the golden corridors meters away from the boys playing, maybe they would have noticed each other and exchanged a word. 

However, this never took place and Lucia was introduced to the twins in terrible conditions. On her 17th birthday, Lucilla opened the door to her chamber, just after she ordered to dress her daughter in the most beautiful clothes. The young woman's heart beat anxiously against her burgundy Stola, when for the first time she walked with Lucilla down the hallway towards the main hall of the palace, in full view of everyone. Her hair was tied in the most magnificent bun and single curls fell onto her dark, sharp, cat-like eyes. She suspected with fear what could happen. However, she didn’t know that she was right until she saw a man on the dais, in reality, a boy with red waves as hair, an outfit like hers, hands in rings, and a golden wreath resting on his vexed head. His eyes, terrifying for her, pierced straight into her like an arrow penetrating her insides, no one had ever looked at her in such a way, so directly, so impudently. Next to him stood a taller, equally red-haired, old man whose gaze was more greedy, less boyish, more terrifying. And those figures that stood as if made of marble on the dais turned to her and spoke. Or perhaps it was Septimus Severus who spoke, on behalf of his son. 

- My eldest son accepts your gift in the form of the beautiful Lucia. The couple will now accept the marriage, and they will be named the future emperor and empress. 

Hope stuck to Lucia, hope that maybe the red-haired boy was a marble sculpture after all, that the gods were joking with her, and that in a moment everything would return to the form of what it was. That she would be able to hide in the shadow of her mother, and everyone would forget about her again. As she walked between the rows of benches, on which it seemed like everyone was sitting, of course, Acacius, Macrinus, the entire senate, and the Roman aristocracy, her thoughts went back to the times when she had desired such an opportunity, an opportunity for power, to be remembered in history. However, now she understood how childish these cravings were. She understood now when she looked into the blue eyes of her tormentor - Lucius Septimius Bassianus, otherwise known as Caracalla. She stood on the dais. Severus began by making a sacrifice to the Gods - setting a white, dead lamb on fire. Lucia then compared herself to that lamb, lost in the name of something that had no right to exist. She and her future husband were facing each other, he lifted her orange veil - the traditional obligatory attire of a Roman bride, a symbol of the hearth. He put an iron ring on her delicate fingers and stared at her. She did not like Caracalla at first, it must be admitted. However, she was condemned to him her entire adult life. When the boy's father uttered the last words of the formal marriage, the mother sat in the first row of this grotesque spectacle, with tears in her eyes and a fake smile. The wedding of Lucia and Caracalla was a political arrangement, a union of two families. It was to save Rome, her daughter was to save Rome. And Severus was not to live long, he was sickly, people gave him a year to live at most, and it was his sons who were to maintain his infamy. This union gave hope for control over the twins, by maintaining any position in the decisions of the rulers. Lucilla placed all her hope and faith in her revealed secret - in her daughter.

- Lucia’s beautiful. - she heard right next to her, which snapped her from her thinking. She turned around abruptly. There sat a boy of considerable height, with a mocking smile and a cunning gaze fixed on her. His red hair was also decorated with a wreath, silver, matching his ceremonial silver robes. He was leaning towards her.

- Geta - whispered the mother of the bride.

- Caracalla doesn't want this marriage. If you gave her to me, I would accept her. I’m far more responsible. I would give you an heir right away - he said with a soft chuckle. For Lucilla his gaze was wild, she looked with horror at this barely 18-year-old twin. 

  However, his intentions were not barbaric, he was even somehow right, since childhood Geta was a better candidate for emperor, but his brutal father always stood in his way, convincing him of his weakness, inferiority, and immaturity of mind. For Severus his firstborn was a saint, he believed in the power that was dormant in him, ignoring the fact that he always played Gladiator, while Geta played emperor. However, the younger twin's (u know what I meann) jealousy wasn’t really overwhelming, because he did not believe that Caracalla would really take on the task of ruling Rome and would only occupy himself with games in the Colosseum instead of the role of emperor. To everyone’s surprise, his father did not allow this and threw him onto the dais in the great hall, forcing the ring onto his finger.  

 The newlyweds' lips pressed together awkwardly, and the hall was filled with a deafening roar of applause, the roar of an uncertain future that had stormed into the Golden House.

If we hit 20 likes ima post Chapter 1! Also lmk what u think by now in the comments :D

[slvtforoldermen]

Pedro’s Characters: The Dick-tionary: Part Two

(PS. I’m currently on my ovulation week so this is gonna be mental)

Part One ;)

Frankie (Catfish) Morales:

Okay so I just finished watching Triple Frontier and oml I love this man. One thing I wanna say is, he definitely fucks you in whatever flying vehicle he owns, not during flights of course <3 safety first and I have such a bad fear of flying. Anyways, Frankie’s about 7 inches, and he has a pretty pink mushroom tip, he’s pretty thick too tbh, and he’s a vein up the side that you can feel when he’s inside you. PRAISE!!! He’s a praiser and not a degrader. Breeding kink is a must!!! Maybe it’s because he’s a family man but I feel like he has a domestic kink, like, he lovesssss talking about you being his ‘pretty little wife/husband’. Fuck, he lovessss filling you up and talking bout how he wants to get you pregnant, even if you can’t get pregnant :0, he was quite delicate with this factor at first in case it made you uncomfortable but he 100% wouldn’t say anything about that if it made you uncomfy. He just needs you to be happy. “My sweet girl/boy, spread your legs for me will ya?” “Yeah you like that, yeah you do… good girl/boy.” “Pretty little baby, taking me so so well, aw, so cute” “Take my cock in your mouth, oh yeah, just like that, my sweet, sweet baby.” He shaves well enough I think, likes to leave a happy trail to tease you with.

Agent Whiskey

Save a horse, ride a cowboy. Literally. Ride him and he’ll love you forever. Pedro’s cowboy characters hold a warm place in my heart because I find Southern accents sooooo sexy, ugh yes, talk about your farm daddy.

Um…. Anyways! Jack is so cunty I love him. Okay, he’s a big boy, about 8 inches, up there with Javier and Joel. He’s thick, like oof… Nice big tip too. Depending on the day, he switches between soft and hard dom. His fav position is cowgirl obviously, despite popular speculation, he’s not really a big fan of reverse cowgirl, but he LOVES doggystyle, he’s an ass man so spanking is a yes. He’s not a daddy man. OH MY GOD WHEN YOU RIDE HIM PLEASE WEAR HIS HAT PLEASE HE’LL CUM SO SO HARD!! SIT 👏 ON 👏 HIS 👏 FACE 👏 If he’s feeling soft and wants to be all chivalrous and his Southern self, he’ll fuck you in missionary, peppering kisses all over your face and neck. “My sweet girl/boy… takin’ my cock so well.” “Oh darlin’, ya look so pretty f’me.” “Fuck, so good, baby, such a good lil hole.” Big snail trail enthusiast!!!

Marcus Pike

I have not watched the mentalist so I apologise for any inaccuracies :( but good lord how gorgeous is this man…

Sorry guys I just can’t get over how pretty he is, but I’m actually crying because he’s so beautiful. Anyway, he’s about 7.5 inches and loooovvvvessss to be sucked off. You just look so so pretty with his cock in your mouth, and suck on his tip, his hips buckle a little and he whimpers, his hands going straight into your hair. He’s such a sweet lover, when he’s inside you, he’s so soft and gentle, you’d have to physically beg him to be rough. A BIG KISSER!!! Loves kissing you, just make sure you’ve kissed him at least 20 times and he’ll be content. He’s such a sweetie, please just be nice to him. “I love you so so much.” “Please oh baby, I love you, love this hole, so fucking good for me, good girl/boy.” “I’m gonna cum, oh please, where do you want me to cum, please tell me where to cum baby…” He likes to keep its shaved but he’s not completely bald.

Lucien Flores

Now, I have been looking for the clip of him making out and I can’t find it anywhere 😭😭 if someone could find it for me pleaseeeee send it I will love and cherish you for eternity. I also couldn’t find a gif of him so bear with me 😭.

Oh guys… MIRRORS!!! From looks and expectations and fanfics I’ve read, mirrors are a big thing for him. He’s about 8 inches. Loves doggy, he’s also an ass man. Choking you is a MUST, oh god he loves making you take him in a mirror, in doggy, with his big hand wrapped around your pretty neck, seeing you in the mirror taking him sooo well. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Same thing with the bathroom. He has you with one leg on the counter, the other dangling as he pounds into you, just absolutely destroying you. Shower sex too! He has you, either against the wall or legs wrapped around his waist. In fact just let him fuck you on every single surface of the house. Bed, bathroom, floor, sofa, dining table, kitchen counter, anything!! Loves eating you out from behind. He shaves and isn’t bald, yknow standard procedure 🤷🏻‍♀️

Special Guest!! My fav TV cameo 🫶

Reggie Luckman:

My MAN!! 🥺 he whimpers, have you seen him to that pretty when you cry edit, UGH STRIKES MY HEART EVERY TIME! I watch that edit about 3 times a day. I am very well aware that he’s just found out he’s killed his friend in this gif but he’s just so beautiful…

He’s 7 inches, and has such a cute face when he’s inside you, eyes squeezed shut and biting his lip as he conceals his whimpers. You keep telling him that he’s fine to moan but he just gets so embarrassed. Such a praiser, calls you a good girl/boy soooo much. His hips stutter when he’s close, and he bites down on your shoulder, accidentally leaves hickeys on your neck and collarbones. He loves going fast. When you ride him, he looks up at with those sweet eyes, and it makes your heart melt, hands on your hips, guiding you sweetly. Tug on his hair in orallllll!!! “Please, please, you feel so good, I love you.” “Mmm, please, I’m gonna cum, can I cum in you?” “I can? Thank you, thank you, fuck!” Praise him back, tell him how he’s doing, tell him that he’s good. Pleaseeeee I need him soooo baddddd!!!!!!

[blackdollette]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐥𝐢𝐯'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲. ‎‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

#RULES!

what i will write.

i will primarily write rory culkin content on this blog, but i am now writing for miguel o'hara, spencer reid and the outsiders. i try my best to answer all requests that i get, unless they go against things that i write. i write 18+ content.

what i won't write.

incest, pedophilia, scat play, & watersports.

#MASTERLIST!

kinktober masterlist.

be my valentine. ₊˚⊹♡: masterlist

☆ = nsfw

charlie walker.

if i cant have you, no one can. you & charlie stalking eachother. getting down with charlie. ☆ charlie's personal camgirl. ☆ pretty when he cries. ☆ subby charlie giving you head. ☆ trashy tutor session. ☆ trashier study session. ☆ prettiest girl he's ever seen. best friend. childhood crush.

euronymous.

dating euronymous hcs. giving euronymous head after a show. ☆ euronymous' fucktoy. ☆ meeting euronymous at a party. meeting euronymous at a party (part 2). ☆ admiring from afar. taking his virginity. ☆ bimbo and the beast. ☆ first time doing anal. ☆ little black bimbo. ☆ rough sex. ☆ throatfucking. ☆ gonna play with myself. ☆ ps girlfriend hcs. ☆ the shape of my body. ☆ threesome with dead. ☆ i'm the boss. ☆ friday night fight. grinding in the pale moonlight. ☆ cheater. ☆ loving you is hard, being here is harder. blessed with beauty and rage. private session. ☆ brother's best friend. ☆ sweetest melodies.

clyde.

dating clyde hcs. making edibles on a stormy night. crying on his shoulder. bathtime with clyde. ☆ intoxicated sex. ☆ sloppy sex. ☆ meet me at the diner. dating clyde hcs (again.) shotgun. ☆ taking his virginity. ☆ tired n sickly. ☆ fingerbanging at coachella. ☆ kissing behind the skate structure. do you want me or do you not? the bad girl next door. ☆ forever wild. ☆

jack thurlow.

having sex with jack. ☆ jack's worst addiction. jack's keepsake. ☆ your first time. ☆ your wife won't mind. ☆ hold me, love me, touch me. ☆ i need you. ☆ guided masturbation. ☆ sun & moon, december & june. let's ride. ☆ sad girl. a little party never hurt no one. dom x dom. ☆ somnophilia. ☆

ollie sway.

giving ollie a striptease. ☆ public sex. ☆ first orgasm. ☆ attempt to be dominant. ☆ watching me get undressed. ☆

kappa.

one night stand with kappa. ☆ a friendly visitor. caught masturbation. ☆ jealous girl. ☆ softcore babyface. (ft. dan cooper) ☆ don't forget me. ☆ got a knife in my shirt. ☆ my cult leader. ☆

dan cooper.

dan's first time using a toy. ☆ dry humping. ☆ two little bunnies. ☆ pegging danny. ☆ dan cockwarming. ☆ world's biggest whore. ☆ danny dom. ☆ feminization. ☆ softcore babyface. (ft. kappa) ☆ daisy chains. ☆

chris kenton.

friends with benefits. ☆ private dancer. ☆ truth or dare. ☆ blowjob. ☆ got me feeling so much. ☆

marcus (swarm).

putting him into subspace. ☆ that damn bowl of strawberries.

spencer reid. (criminal minds)

you wanna make the switch? ☆ heard that you like the bad girls.

more characters to be added.

credits to ©444rockstargf.

[galway-girlatwork]

I wasn’t tagged for this but Jana and Jo encouraged me to do this. And of course I am doing it last minute. 😊

So long story short…I do not do self-love. I find it actually mentally and emotionally painful. Years of trauma does that to a person.

I also do not believe that I am as good of a writer as others here. I read fics by Freya, Jett, Emily, Ali, Jana, Jo and so many more talented people, that I think, why the hell bother.

But I keep writing because I hear the stories in my head, no I am not crazy. Something will trigger a scene or an idea and then BAM, here I am with more WIP’s than I can shake a fuckin stick at.

So, here I am, trying to do self-love. Thank you, Jana, for making the incredible banner and encouraging me and thank you Jo for your encouragement as well. Without you two’s amazing messages, I never would have done this.

Joel Miller-

Fragile State

This was written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge-

I wrote this from Tara’s POV. I wanted to show how devastating it was for a wife to lose her husband, temporally, and how it affects those around him.

Beyond the Wall

This was inspired by one of Jett’s boyfriend vibes. Not the best smut as I really do suck at writing it but the angst with Joel and Stacie was something I felt. We never see what life was like in the QZ, how the struggle to survive was real.

Echoes of Hope

I know we were supposed to only include a series that was finished. This beast has one more chapter to it but to be honest I do not know when I will complete her. I started this in March and it took on a life of its own. Joel and Raven are in a good place right now. So many have told me how I need to end it but none of those ideas can be put to paper. I honestly feel that they deserve the peace they have right now.

Marcus Pike

Shadow and Flame

This was inspired by a beautiful mood board gifted to me by the amazing Freya. I had fun with this and I loved writing Daciana. She gave poor Marcus a run for his money. I would like to think that eventually they ended up together on a beach somewhere.

Marcus Moreno

Some Bodies

This was another writing challenge. Back at the end of July, @iamasaddie posted a “create your story” video. The concept was to screen shot each segment and you would get a story outline. Well, this where Marcus meets Priestly in Rome. Strangers to lovers. I love Priestly and there is nothing wrong with being an insecure Mafia boss. Marcus was a little surprised by how straight forward she is.

Last but most certainly not least is Frankie.

Deliver Me

Was yet another writing challenge, this one by written for Steph’s writing challenge. She let me know that yes kindergarten teachers can have sex. LMAO. But it’s really a love story and how the patience of one man can deliver a broken woman to the other side.

Beyond Times Edge

Oh Frankie and Una. I truly believe the epilogue was written better than the story. I had so much more detail in it but I loved Frankie in this. He realized witches and fairy rings were real. I can't thank Freya enough for the mood board and letting me know I could go anywhere with him.

So those are the favorites I’ve written this year. Some of the fics I’ve written were absolute bombs, I don’t do fluff very well but if you’re interested in those, they are on AO3. All of them have songs they’ve been written to. Music drives me so much. So if you want some of my favorite songs I’ve written to, let me know.

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Oh and Jana and Jo…Thank you so very much.

Love, Dez.

PS. Thank you to @saradika-graphics for making beautiful dividers and for the book cover template that we all used this year. You are amazing.

Tagging below the peeps who've read my stories and those writers that I've read and absolutely love. @guiltyasdave @jolapeno @morallyinept @almostfoxglove @toomanystoriessolittletime @iamasaddie @604to647 @seven-seas-of-rhye-bread @pearlessance @wintrwinchestr @justagalwhowrites @whocaresstillthelouvre @pedgito @burntheedges

[juletheghoul]

regression

a/n: Okay, this one is going to be a little different, in this chapter we get some angst. I received a few amazing asks about Girlwife slipping back into calling Marcus Dominus, and how he would feel. There is obviously a playful way it could happen, or even in a sexual capacity, control and all that but some of the asks were of an angsty nature and this is where I delved. No sexy stuff in this chapter, dealing with Lavinia (nasty, jealous bitch) and postpartum. Hope you enjoy, always happy to receive messages and dms about Marcus and his Girlwife. 🖤 Not beta’d, barely proofread **ps, I googled what a Wetnurse was called in ancient Rome and got a few different answers - I went with nutrix.

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, shame, submissive reader (postpartum) angst, angry Marcus, remorseful Marcus, Lavinia being her usual cunt self 😒

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His thumb presses against the furrow in your brow, a feather light stroke to wipe the frown off your face. You sigh, Diana calm and asleep against your breast, milk-drunk and perfect.

“It is only for the day, my love. The women, and the nutrix will take care of her.” His tone is soothing, patient despite the tremble in your frame. Tears well in your lashes, emotions that feel too big and too uncontrollable course through your being. 

“Apologies–” his thumbs wipe the tears away, shaking his head to dismiss your apology, “I just, I don’t know why my nerves are so shredded–” You take a deep breath, to sigh a deep sigh.

“There are no apologies needed, this is a big step. We have not been apart from her since she was born. It is perfectly normal for you to be fearful, but I swear to you she will be well-cared for.” His hand looks so massive on the crown of her head, a gentle sweep while the tears fall in a steady stream. “We make an appearance, show our faces, I find out the meaning of the invitation and then come straight back here.” 

Her little chest rises and falls in your arms, the full pout of her lips stained with milk, her fingers curled up under her chin, all of her cracks your heart in half. 

“Yes, you’re right.” With another deep sigh, you rise, handing her gently off to the older woman waiting quietly beside you. She smiles at the child in her arms, rocking softly to keep her asleep. Already you miss her, the little weight of her, the smell of her hair and it feels like a part of you is missing despite her being right before your eyes. 

He presses a kiss to her forehead before she’s taken away by what is for all intents and purposes, her mother for the day. 

His arms gather you up and for a moment the unexplainable despair swallows you like an ocean, a rogue wave crashing you into a wall. He says nothing, only holds you tightly within his comforting embrace. 

You’re quiet on the way to the gathering, quiet as you walk through the halls of the Senators home, looking but not really seeing–attention still wrapped up in Diana and the uncertainty of her well-being despite his assurances, and the deep-seeded knowledge that the women in your house would give their lives for her. It was hard to remember that just now, without the weight of her within your arms. 

Attendants greet you, offering wine to which you politely decline. They lead you to a great room, filled with people and food and part of you wishes to run out the door. 

“We will only be here until he has said his piece to me, once I know the purpose of this we will be gone. I will not keep you away from home longer than is necessary my love.” He says the words low into the skin of your temple, a soft kiss to seal it before he leads you towards the owner of the home. 

You watch as the older man greets Marcus, give him a tight smile when he presses a kiss to your cheek in greeting, and let him lead you to a place at his table. 

“You must tell me, to what do we owe the pleasure of your invitation?” Marcus drinks the wine offered with one hand, while holding yours in the other and you’re grateful for his pressing. 

“But you have only just arrived General Acacius, we will get into the matter once everyone has arrived. Fear not, eat, enjoy.” The older man, Senator Cassius, laughs and engages with other guests while others arrive. 

“Lady Acacius, I have not yet had the pleasure.” A woman sits down in the place next to you, smiling brightly, “I am Caecilia, the wife of Senator Cassius and the Lady of this house.” She presses kisses to your cheeks.

“The pleasure is all mine, thank you for receiving us.” You smile your best smile, hoping to the Gods that you look presentable, that you are not leaking milk. She waves away your thanks.

“I wanted to congratulate you on the birth of your child, we were very happy to hear the news, and of your union to General Acacius of course. You must be a special woman indeed to have ensnared him.” She smiles, looking to Marcus and it’s said with an air of playfulness, not malice. 

“She is indeed.” Marcus slips his arm around your shoulder and you feel the heat crawl across your face.

“I don’t know if ensnared is the word—” She laughs, and you know she’s teasing you, a friendly poke to lighten the mood. 

“Of course not my lady, you are a beautiful young woman and I have never seen him so happy, I was only teasing.” You like her instantly, she’s older than you but not by much and you continue to chat with her until the men rise. Your stomach drops but Marcus presses close. 

“I am only going to the study with him to finally know the truth of why we are here. Do not fret, I will return shortly.” He places a kiss to your neck. 

“Yes yes go off, you men tend to your business, leave us ladies to entertain ourselves.” Caecilia takes your hand in hers and squeezes it firmly, reassuring you and you nod to him. 

Chatting with her is oddly comforting, she’s sweet and honest and much more playful than you thought she’d be. Usually these gatherings are full of gossip and the cruel undercurrent of high society that sours the mood. This however feels light, other women join your conversation, they ask questions about Diana, they congratulate and relate and it is for the most part, enjoyable. Until a late guest enters the house. 

Lavinia enters with her new, young husband in tow. A sour faced man, high up in the senate and you feel the way Caecilia stiffens beside you. 

“Where is Senator Cassius?” He asks, without greeting. Your nerves fray still more when Lavinia catches your eye, a narrowing of her eyes lets you know that she is not happy at having been passed over. 

“I am here, and you are late, come, we have been waiting for you.” Senator Cassius is at the edge of the room, his tone clipped. 

Lavinia joins the group, sitting across from you and you cannot be sure if it is just your apprehension at seeing her, but the atmosphere turns icy. 

“I must congratulate you Lavinia, on your union.” Caecilia’s tone is full of cold courtesy, devoid of any of the warmth she spoke to you with. 

“Gratitude Caecilia.” She bows her head, smiling wide before turning her attention to you, her eyebrow raising in a manner you do not like. “I must congratulate you as well, Lady Acacius, on trapping the General, and with a baby no less. Must be strange for you to be amongst such elevated company, and not be required to pour.” Her smile is sharp, and some of the other women tut, displeased with her rudeness. Your lashes fill with unshed tears, the stress of leaving your daughter, the absence of Marcus, being away from your house and your comfort turn the barbs into something bigger, something devastating. 

“That is no way to speak to Lady Acacius, especially not in my house.” Caecilia shoots back, quick and you’re grateful for her, the shock of rudeness has left you speechless. 

“Oh come now, it’s obvious. Man like him marries a slave and parades her around–”

“I seem to recall you wanting to be paraded by him.” Caecilia cuts her off, “I seem to recall you being rejected, twice.” Lavinia’s eyes widen, some of the other ladies laugh. 

“I recall that as well, I heard there was a rumour of a tantrum you threw to your father because Acacius did not want you.” Another of the girls says, half laughing and Lavinia's face goes red. The men return, speaking loudly, oblivious to the turmoil within and seeing Marcus surrounded by all those powerful men, knowing he is important, knowing he is respected and far beyond what you deserve makes you break. A tear falls down your cheek, your heart races and you feel like a caged bird, surrounded by walls. 

“Do not listen to her my Lady, she is only envious of you.” Caecilia wipes your tear away but Marcus is there, having noticed the red in your eyes. He frowns, crouching down to look you in the eye but there are so many people, too many watching and a shame fills your being, that you have embarrassed him, caused a scene and made him possibly regret his choices, regret you.

“My love-” His voice is soft, but Lavinia chimes in, unfettered by her scolding. 

“Congratulations to you Marcus, wife, slave and nutrix all rolled into one.” She smiles, but his eyes turn black with rage. 

“Your anger at my spurning you gives you no right to speak this way, if you think you have embarrassed me, or my wife you are sorely mistaken. The only thing you have done is prove that I was right to deny you. You are not fit to be in the same room as her, let alone look down your nose at her. Come, my Lady, let us retire to our home, and our child.” 

“Will you let him speak to me–”

“Quiet, Lavinia. Seems the rumours I heard of your feelings for General Acacius are true. Come, we will discuss this later. Let us away.” Her husband does not wait for her, instead she is made to run after him, tail tucked between her legs but it does not calm you. The whole scene, the whole spectacle only fills you with doubt. Perhaps he would have been better off with someone high-born, not some slave within his house. A cruel little part of you whispers that you were what was available, he is only with you because you were there.

He says nothing the whole way home, the anger in him is so big, so heavy it threads through your ribs, it squeezes at your heart and all you want to do it make yourself small, hideaway in your old chambers and cry, hold your daughter tightly and forget ever having left her. 

When he guides you inside the house the tears are heavy and hot on your face, flowing freely and he stops you. 

“My–”

“Please forgive me Dominus, I did not mean to embarrass you–” A strangled noise comes out of him, something wounded as you fall to your knees before him. When you look up he too has tears on his face. 

“I shall redeem myself, I swear to you.” You cry, reverting back to that timid little thing you’d been long ago but he falls to his knees right in front of you, holding your face with both of his hands. 

“Stop this!” His voice cracks, and you cover your face with your hands, another misstep, another failure. 

“My love stop this, I beg of you, I am not your Dominus, I am your husband and I love you.” He pulls your hands away, his eyes red with hurt and you cannot help but sob. 

“But I am beneath–”

“You are no such thing! You are everything to me, if anyone is not worthy, if anyone is blessed it is me! You cannot let the jealous barbs of a woman spurned make you question my love for you, you cannot let her and her black heart question your place. You are the Lady of this house, you are the mother of my child and you are the single most important person in my whole world. Please, please do not call me Dominus, I am not that, not to you.” Diana cries, a wail that pierces through the bubble of the two of you clutching at each other on the floor just inside the doorway. 

“Dominus, Domina–is something the matter? Shall I fetch a medicus?” The older woman looks terrified as she tries to soothe the baby, but Marcus waves her concern away.

“We will be retiring to bed early, we require food and drink to be brought and then no interruptions for the rest of the night. I do not care if the Emperor himself knocks on the door, no one is to disturb us.” He stands, gently pulling you up with him. With a shuddering breath, you take Diana into your arms, and retreat within the safety of your chambers. 

He helps you undress, careful to not disturb the child in your arms, wiping away at the errant tears  as he goes along. Once he too is comfortable, you both slip into the bed, Diana asleep between you.

With quiet, with food and drink and the reassuring rhythm of her breathing a different form of shame settles over you. Shame that you regressed, that you thought he would think differently of you because of what Lavinia had said, he had more than proven himself and his feelings since freeing you. 

“Marcus,” You reach over, caressing at the grey scruff on his cheeks “Forgive me, I do not know what came over me.” He sighs, cupping your hand against his face. 

“No, it is I who beg for your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go, not when I could see how hard it was for you to leave her.” He lowers his hand, holding onto Diana’s little foot. “I should have gone on my own, or refused the invitation, I should not have put you in that situation. Your comfort, your happiness–and hers are the only things that matter to me. I must remember that when duty calls.” His hand moves from her foot, to your face, cupping your cheek and sweeping his thumb just under your eye. 

“Forgive me.” He leans over, careful not to jostle the baby and presses a kiss to your mouth. You nod, not trusting your voice. The rest of the night is spent in quiet comfort, basking in and trusting in the love you both have for one another, and the being you created.

--

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[jobean12-blog]

Falling for the Forbidden

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!princess reader (Pedro Pascal Gladiator II)

Word Count: 1,574

Summary: Having to hide your love away is difficult and each day it becomes more so...especially when all eyes are on the General.

Author's Note: I swear I will stop...someday. He's too gorgeous and perfect and with the trailer today I nearly died. This is along the lines of my other two stories I've written for him, A Warrior's Heart and Forbidden. You do not need to read them with this one but they are all the same reader. Thank you all so much for enjoying with me! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 😍

PS If anyone has any ideas they want to throw my way, feel free. Thank you 😘 Also, I'm trying to do my research but if I make any historical mistakes, I apologize.

Warnings: there's always soft sweetness under it all, tension, semi-public sex (although at that time I don't think it mattered much haha) but they are sneaking around!

This gif below is NOT MINE it's from @a7estrellas and I've linked the post! Thank you for gifting us with such beautifulness!

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The streets of Rome are bustling with life. The market vendors’ loud voices ring out over all else and the smell of various wares fills your nostrils. Every time you walk by a stall the merchant shouts at you to buy something, shaking a fresh juicy fruit or something that catches the dying sun and sparkles like a diamond.

With a polite smile you decline and pull your hood higher up over your head, hoping to just slip through the crowd without notice.

Night dances along the horizon, casting long shadows onto the stone streets and filling the sky with pale pink and orange.

You pass by a fruit stand with baskets of sweet apples, red and shiny. Watching the vendor, you wait for a distraction and grab an apple, quickly stuffing it into the wide arm of your cloak.

Without a glance back you disappear into the darkness between the large stone pillars of a nearby building and press your back tightly to the wall. Your breathing stills and you wait.

Long minutes seem to pass in silence and just as you’re about to give up hope a large and strong hand closes around your wrist and yanks you away from the wall and down into the shadows of an alcove.

“Since when does the princess steal?”

His voice is smooth and deep, purring into your ear while he reaches inside your cloak to retrieve the apple.

You pluck it from his fingers and take a small bite, savoring the sweetness with a matching saccharine smile. A small trickle of juice slips from your mouth and down your chin. His dark eyes watch before he presses his lips to your skin and gently sucks the juice clean.

The apple drops from your hand and rolls further into the darkness, the sun nearly kissing the horizon and hiding you both away in the shadows.

His lips move to your ear and lightly graze the soft spot just below. You shudder at the contact, grabbing onto his biceps when his mouth continues and ghosts along the column of your neck.

“How many nights has it been?” he asks, running his hands under your toga and pressing his fingers between your legs, “since I last had you.”

Your eyes close and you sway into his embrace.

“Too many.”

Your low moan echoes in the emptiness of the hidden spot and he stops his movements.

“Far too many,” he whispers as he removes his hand and grabs your wrists between his large fingers.

He raises your hands above your head and leans down to capture your lips. You struggle weakly, needing to touch him, but he shakes his head and tightens his hold.

“We cannot do this here,” you gasp as he presses his hardness along your stomach.

His lips move down and across your collarbone and his free hand reaches down to slowly pull apart the fabric that covers your skin. He repeats the action until he reveals your bare breasts, hungrily licking his lips before he closes them around your nipple.

Your knees buckle slightly, and you moan out his name.

“Shhh princess,” he whispers against your skin.

“More Marcus. Please.”

He takes his time, teasing, licking, and sucking until your body is aching then he lifts you so you can wrap your legs around his waist.

Your hands immediately delve into his hair, roughly dragging his mouth down to yours as he presses your bodies together more firmly.

The sounds of a raucous and drunken mob grow louder, and you tense against him. You hold your breath and a long a long stretch of time passes before you meet his eyes.

“Marcus. We should not do this.”

You halfheartedly try to push him away, but he holds his ground.

“I cannot wait another moment,” he growls. “I cannot go another night without you.”

Your eyes hold his gaze, but you don’t answer.

“Please,” he murmurs.

Your fingers stroke his cheek, idly tracing the raised skin of a scar that lines his jaw.

“I can never seem to deny you.”

He lets one of your legs fall gently to the ground and his fingers ghost up your thigh. A low hiss escapes his mouth when he feels how wet you are.

“I do not think you ever want to my love,” he whispers into your neck.

With quick and quiet movements, he frees himself, hiking your leg higher around his waist before he pushes in deep.

Your simultaneous moans are lewd, and you hear the crowd growing closer. It makes him push into you harder.

He kisses you hard and fast then covers your mouth with his hand but keeps his eyes locked on yours as he draws himself all the way out. Your strangled sounds make him smile and he rewards you with a deep thrust.

You’re gasping and your fingers search for something to hold on to, every roll of his hips making your muffled moans louder.

His words are soft against your ear when he whispers, “do you feel how perfectly you fit around me? Nothing feels better than this.”

Your only answer is a nod of your head and when he moves harder and faster you silently beg for more.

“I want you to remember what you do to me. Tonight, when you’re alone in your chambers…and the next morning when you ache between your legs.”

His words have you teetering on the edge and now the intoxicated group is just on the other side of the wall. He lifts his hand from your mouth and covers it with his lips, swallowing your strained whimpers as your body tenses and tightens all over.

Your hands fall from his curls and grab his broad shoulders, holding tightly when his final thrusts stutter and slow. He spills his warmth inside you, and he opens his eyes, resting his forehead to yours.

The oblivious voices start to fade as they move away, and you catch your breath as the quiet blankets the night once again.

He reaches for your hand and lifts it between your bodies, delicately kissing your palm before turning it over and brushing his lips across your knuckles.

You inhale softly and whisper his name.

“I should like to see you reach the palace safely.”

Your expression softens even more, and you trace his lips with your fingertips.

“And I should like to have you in my bed every night.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, the gesture laced with pain, and carefully unwinds your leg from his waist and sets you down on unsteady feet.

The next day passes far too slowly, and your mind is constantly occupied by thoughts of last night. You’re jolted out of your reverie by a familiar voice.

“Princess,” General Acacius greets.

Turning, you catch a glimpse of him standing with a group of gladiators fresh from training. His chest is bare, and you follow the line of strong muscle to where a dark trail of hair disappears under his canvas loincloth.

When your eyes-finally- reach his face, your breath catches in your throat at the look in his eyes.

Then those eyes rake over every inch of you and even though you’re completely covered in your royal attire, you feel completely naked. His expression is as intense as his touch and you wonder, if he continues to stare in such a way, will your skin ignite?

You try to fix your face into something that camouflages that you’re mentally cataloging the way his chest heaves with his quickened breaths, the way his hands fist at his sides and cause the muscles in his forearms to flex and strain, and the way his neck and shoulders are tense as beads of sweat drip down his glistening skin.  

His tongue darts out to trace his lips and he quietly dismisses the others with a growled command. They walk off silently but not before throwing their covetous eyes your way.

The General draws his sword.

“I would not have you look at the princess in such a way…” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

They turn their eyes to him, narrowed and glaring before stomping away with quiet mutterings.

Once they’re out of sight he walks briskly down the hall, waiting in a shadowed recess until you follow.

He grabs you, spinning you out of sight until he has you caged against the cool stone wall. His breath is warm and heavy against your cheek.

“Marcus,” you gasp, fighting to control your own breathing. “Not here. And especially after that…what were you thinking?! It is too dangerous.”

His grip tightens and he bends slightly, kissing your lips softly.

“Then do not tempt me with a look like that again.”

Your hands reach for his shoulders, and you run your fingers across their broad width before tracing his chest and stomach.

“Then you should not tempt me with such…magnificence.”

His scoff is muffled against your skin, and he pulls away to take your face in his hands, softly brushing his thumb across your lips.

“Magnificence…my princess, there is nothing in this world to rival your beauty. You are…stunning.”

His name falls from your parted lips in a whisper, and he kisses you softly, gliding his nose along your cheek until he meets the soft shell of your ear.

“Have you thought of last night?”

You tilt your face and find his lips again. “With every step I take.”

@hiddles-rose @tripletstephaniescp @blackwidownat2814 @lizette50