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juletheghoul · 3 months ago

Text

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 · 6 months ago

Text

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

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #general acacius #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius x princess!reader

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b00tyliciousbabe · 8 months ago

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

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

#gay reader #gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #male bottom #male x male #male bottom reader #male x male fluff #male reader #m4m #amab reader

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baronessvonglitter · 6 months ago

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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 👑

#marcus pike #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #tumblr writers #pedro boys #made for others

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caroljoky · 4 days ago

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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

#gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #general acacius #geta x reader #caracalla x reader #joseph quinn #pedro pascal #fred hechinger #gladiator ii fanfiction #gladiator ii imagine #emperor Caracalla #fanfiction #fanfic #prologue

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slvtforoldermen · 10 months ago

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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!!!!!!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales #agent whiskey #marcus pike #lucien flores #reggie luckman #pedro pascal headcanon #slvtforoldermen

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blackdollette · 1 year ago

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ 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.

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galway-girlatwork · 13 hours ago

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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

#jo: tootathon #joel miller #frankie morales #marcus pike #marcus moreno #pedro pascal #faves #ao3 writer #happy new year

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thatone-brightstar · 2 years ago

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The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 6: The Fantastic Mrs. Fox pt. 2

Words: 5 k

Summary: Your two families meet and Carmy sees a different side of you.

a/n:Thank you all so much for the support and sweet messages! Also, new trailer just dropped and know that I'll need 2-3 business days to recover because ohmygodddd . Enjoy! xx

PS. Reader is Latina in this but I don’t specify from where so you can just fill in the blanks (it’s also why it’s all over the place lol)

PS2. The movie I’m referring to is The Fantastic Mr. Fox by Wes Anderson and it’s an absolute gem, you gotta watch it!!

WARNINGS: Smut ahead, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, dirty talk, reader is on birth control but isn't mentioned (wrap it up IRL tho), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you

“Can you please be careful with that, Jesus!” Carmy shouted from the wheel of Richie’s car, looking through the rearview mirror at the backseat where his three workers sat smushed together, one carefully balancing the delicate pastry.

“Why does Richie get the front seat?” Fak questioned with half his thigh against the right door.

“Cause it’s my car, now shut the hell up before I kick your ass out!” He fought back.

Sweeps began to argue on why Richie couldn’t carry the cake if he was sitting shotgun and how that was stupid because it was, again, ’my car and I can do what I want!’

“Is it still far? I think some of the gelée is starting to leak…” Marcus asked from the middle seat, moving his leg further out to not stain his pants with the syrupy liquid.

“Nah, like two more blocks.” Carmy answered.

Soon enough, he found a parking space as close as he could to your building, then killed the engine. He climbed out first to help Marcus with the heavy box, which was in fact leaking slightly from one of the corners and he placed it on the roof of the car. He almost unconsciously wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, but immediately stopped when he remembered he swapped his usual dark jeans for a pair of clean deep blue ones. He had also added a beige short sleeve button up over the usual white T that covered him and a few rings to his fingers, hoping he was decent enough for the occasion.

They could hear the buzz of rhythmic music and voices as they moved closer to the side of the building where he saw an opening in the fence. He gave the cake to Fak and pulled out his phone to double check your message to make sure they weren’t crashing a random person’s party, but before he could unlock it, he felt Richie elbow him continuously on his side. He looked up to him in annoyance, then he saw who his cousin was gawking at and the air in his lungs left in a shaky exhale.

Ravishing was the only word he felt could do you justice. Stunning, captivating and beautifully breathtaking were up on the list, but none seemed to be enough to describe how the slick red fabric accentuated every one of his favorite features on you. Your olive skin glowed under the afternoon sunlight as you walked towards them, dark curls held up with a soft ribbon that bounced with each of your steps. The frills on the hemline of your dress caressed your mid thigh as you moved, making him envious of a piece of cloth for the first time in his life.

“Carmy, you lucky son of a bitch.” Richie whispered beside him, but he was more concerned on how he would keep his hands to himself during the whole evening when you looked like that.

“You guys made it!” You said excitedly once you reached them by the entrance.

You pulled each one into a quick hug, offering a welcome kiss on the cheek. You hugged Carmy for unperceivably longer than the rest, your citrus perfume invading his nostrils and engraving itself in his memories.

“What’s in the box?” You asked Marcus with a confused grin.

“Well you always bring stuff for us so we wanted to pay the favor back” He said with a wide smile. “I made it and Carmy helped decorate it.” He shrugged.

Your eyes danced between both men in admiration, the tears glossing them over and a big smile taking up half your face.

“You guys are the best.” You whispered and threw your arms around them again.

“Ugh- sorry I'm a bit tipsy-” You said to yourself once you let them go and chuckled, fanning your hands in front of your face to dry the upcoming tears. “I can take that to the table so you guys can enjoy yourselves… where’re the others?”

“Oh they took an uber behind us, they should be here in a bit.” Carmen answered, still dumbfounded like a moth to a bright light.

“Awesome, well the drinks are on the right and the food’s on the left so… enjoy!” You said taking the heavy box from Marcus, who clapped Sweeps on the back as they moved towards the drinks.

You rolled your tinted lip between your teeth staring up at Carmy for a second, before saying “Can you give me a hand… with this?”

“Wha- Oh, yeah, yeah sure.” He took it from your hands and followed you towards the food table, hearing a ‘Guess you're stuck with me’ from Richie to Fak as he walked away.

He followed mindlessly behind you, too enticed by how the dress accentuated the curve of your hips. You could have been leading him to his death and he would gladly follow with anticipation. He could feel himself grow slightly hard at the racing images flying through his head and he was glad that the shirt he decided to wear was long enough to cover his groin.

He reached the table after you, placing the package in a small space you had cleared in the center, then undid the latches at the top and took a butter knife to cut the cardboard down the side. A small gasp escaped your lips and you grasped his forearm at the sight of the gleaming pastry.

“Carm, it’s beautiful”

“You think so?”

“Of course.. It kinda reminds me of the-”

He pulled up the picture saved on his phone and your eyebrows knitted together at the sight of the bright image.

“I kinda ripped off your design.” He confessed through a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“I think you made it better” You responded, then you hand slid from his arm to cup under his palm. “Thank you, it truly means a lot.”

Carmy swallowed dryly when your eyes flicked down to his lips momentarily and for a brief second he wanted to see what would happen if he leaned down and kissed you in front of all these people… but a voice shouting your name from behind made you lose grasp on his hand and step away instantly.

“Carmen, you came!” Your mother called excitedly, walking towards you by the arm of a tall older gentleman who he assumed was your grandfather.

“Hola, señora” He spoke carefully. He had been practicing some words with the teasing help of Syd, but unfortunately, that had been as far as the lessons had gone.

“Ay, muy bien!” She cheered and his ears reached a new shade of red. “Have you met my father yet?”

“No uh, w-we just got here.”

Carmy reached his hand out to the man, who swept his appearance then reached out slowly to clasp his hand with a firm grip. Your mother turned to her father and explained something in a quick spanish that was impossible for him to understand. What he did understand was the universal language of an embarrassed child, as your eyes grew wide and you let out a sharp ‘Mama!’ through gritted teeth.

“What?” He asked you amused.

“She told him you’re his next grandson-in-law” And when he looked down at you, a soft blush dusted your cheeks and your hand rubbed at the bottom of your nose to hide the shy smile.

“My Fox?” He heard the deep voice come from your grandfather and was more confused about the nickname than your mother’s statement.

“D’you want some Sangria?” You interrupted.

He nodded with a nice smile and you walked off to the drinks table with your mother behind you. He was about to follow behind, but the man beside him placed a gentle hand over his shoulder to stop him.

“Carmy, yes?” He spoke with a slight crack in his pronunciation.

Carmy gulped and nodded.

“What is it that you do, Carmy?”

“I, uhm.. I own a restaurant.” ‘More like a burning shithole’ the voice in his head added.

The older man hummed in contemplation. “You know hard work, then?”

Carmy let out a nervous laugh then answered “Yeah, I-I do.” That would be an understatement.

“Good, good.” He patted Carmy’s back, the intimidating facade slipping when he turned to look at you laughing beside Syd and Marcus while you served two drinks. “She's been through a lot this year y'know... and I want only the best for my little Fox.” He turned back to him “Are you the best?”

Carmy’s eyes stayed glued on your figure, his heart warming at how you swayed naturally with the upbeat music, reminding him of vibrant hibiscus flowers in the breeze. “I want to be… yeah.” He confessed wholeheartedly.

A smile that reached your grandad’s eyes appeared before him, leaning to his side and whispering. “Good answer.”

“Can I ask you something?” He asked the man after a few silence filled seconds and took the small grunt as a sign to continue. “Why do you call her that? Fox?”

He heard the man’s booming laughter above the music before he began to speak.

“Do you know that fox movie? Where he steals all the chickens and lives in a tree?” Carmy shook his head. “She does, seen it a hundred times or more. When she was little, she walked around wearing fox ears her grandma made her and would chase the chickens around in my other daughter’s house. So she’s been my little fox since.”

A grin appeared slightly at the picture of a little you running around with cloth fox ears pinned to your hair. He wanted to ask about your grandmother, but before he had the chance, a woman in a tight blue dress tackled her arms around the older man. He only understood her excitement and giggles, then she signaled to someone across the area and the man moved with open arms to new arriving guests.

“Hi” She turned to him, stretching a well manicured hand towards him. “I’m Sarah.”

“Uh… Carmy.” He gave her hand a single shake, a little taken back by the light scratch of her nails on his skin.

“Oh yeah, my aunt told me about you.” She batted her long lashes at him and he readjusted his weight on his legs under her heavy gaze. “You’re the chef that works with my little cousin, no?”

Carmy nodded and swallowed nervously, assuming this was the cousin your mother wanted to set him up with.

“Cooking is such a hard job, with all the heavy lifting you do, I’m sure you don’t even need to work out.” She gave him a breathy laugh and he tried to hide his lack of comfort under a chuckle, his eyes scanning the space for you or any other person that he knew could pull him out of the situation.

“Maybe you can come over one day and cook for m-”

“Babe, d’you think you can help me with something?”

The sound of your voice hit him the way soft ocean breeze hits the rocks after a crashing wave and he unconsciously stepped further away from your cousin.

“Babe?” They both asked in surprise.

He raised his brows at the pet name, a slow fluttering sensation filling his insides because you had never called him anything other than by a variation of his name, or chef, in your whole time of knowing each other, yet now that it slipped past your cherry tinted lips, he could not ignore the shaking sensation the two syllable word had unearthed in him.

Your brows raised, expecting an answer from his parted lips. All he could do was nod slowly and take a few steps in your direction. You smiled softly up at him then turned to your cousin.

“Your mom’s looking for you. I think your kid knocked his tooth out again.”

Then you turned towards the door that led to the stairway with him following right behind.

You didn’t say a word as you made your way up the multiple floors and his hands developed a thin layer of sweat at the idea that maybe he had done something wrong. He was about to ask what it was you needed help with when you reached the door, but the moment he stepped into the dim hallway, your hands grabbed the two sides of his shirt and pulled him down to your awaiting lips. It caught him off guard, but the breathy sigh that left your chest had him pressing himself closer to you. Carmy groaned into the kiss, the floral taste of red wine exploting his senses. His hands instinctively reached up to cup the sides of your face to deepen the action, tongue lapping at yours trying to get more of the intoxicating flavor. He felt your fingers circle around the loops of his jeans and pull him forward as you took small steps back down the hallway.

“You have no idea… how much I’ve wanted to do that.. today.” You managed to say between peppered kisses while pulling him deeper into the room.

One of his hands moved to the dip between your back and ass while the other extended long digits under your chin. In a second of bravery, he wrapped it tentatively, applying light pressure to the sides and causing a hefty gasp to rip from your chest. His smile unraveled at the melodious sound, dick now pressing hard against the material of his jeans.

“Just that?” He asked in a whisper then left your mouth to plant wet kisses along the edge of your lips and down to the valley of your jaw. He could feel your pulse quicken at his actions and your grip grow tighter on his jeans.

He felt the hand on your lower back hit the hard edge of the kitchen counter and he pressed himself flush against you. You shook your head at his question, attention trained at his lowering head now reaching your chest. Sultry kisses rose small bumps on the tender skin of your upper breast as your hand flew up to tangle in between golden strands. You pushed your head back to allow him an open access.

“More than that..” You whispered through difficult breaths.

“Yeah?” He asked, withdrawing from your skin and rising back up to your face. His nose rubbed along yours as his hands fell from their grip, down past your waist and to your hips. Fingers clawed at the fabric of your dress and bunched it up into high fists.

A low shiver left your lips at the contact of his hot skin against your thighs, fingernails raking along the sensitive area. Your hands rested on his shoulders, gripping tightly when skilled thumbs feathered over the thin hem of your underwear.

You hummed in affirmation, eyes wide and bright staring hungirly up at him through hooded lids. Your lips twitched up and you bit it slightly before speaking.

“Y’know…” you whispered to Carmy, lips brushing over his with every word. “I chose the dress knowing how much you’d wanna fuck me in it.”

The breath he had struggled to take was forcefully knocked out by your admission. A groan moved past his lungs, because fuck were you right. He felt like a mad man, unable to control himself from the moment your skin touched his.

Without thought, he dropped to his knees, face buried in the material of your dress.

“Fuck, Carm-” Escaped your lips in heavy breaths.

He looked up to find you a beautiful mess of shaky breaths and blushed cheeks. The golden necklace around your neck was disarranged and your exposed skin glistened from his wet kisses. He smiled at your glowing physique.

Carmy never considered himself religious. He grew up catholic from his parents but never bought into the whole idea of an ever present being creating everything around him. In that moment, however, with the glowing rays of sunshine filtering through the windows and cascading over your form- red fabric bunched at your hips like an impending fire- he undoubtedly confirmed the existence of the godly being he wanted to spend all his mortal life worshiping. You had him like silly putty in your lovely little hands and he was too far gone in the moment to rationalize if he was fucked for good or not.

He hooked his index fingers on the band of your underwear and pulled it down torturously slow, following the drag of the fabric with his teeth. He didn’t want to waste the little time you had, considering you were also in the middle of your kitchen and anyone could walk in at any moment. But god did he want to slurp you up and bottle every last one of your desperate sighs, make you feel so good until the only word you remembered how to pronounce was his name.

When the flimsy piece of clothing was finally down to your ankles and you had stepped out of it, his palms pushed the fabric up once more and he was greeted by the wonderful image of your glistening pussy. He swallowed down the sudden rush of saliva that invaded his mouth, a usual reaction from his body when he’s been starving for so long and is graciously presented with an appetizing dish.

He breathed out delicately above it, a clear pearl of slick forming on your folds, taunting him. He looked up at your aroused expression through hooded brows and without losing contact, stuck out his index finger and swiped it over the tender flesh to collect the juices, then popped it in his mouth. The tangy taste of you on his tongue was all he needed to lose the last grips of control left in him.

Carmy gripped firmly at your hips then pushed his face deep into your folds, tongue first. The force and the surprise of his actions had you losing your balance over him and holding on to his shoulder for support, mouth ajar. He used one hand over your stomach to keep you and the dress still against the counter, while the other held on to the supple bend behind your knee, raising it to rest on his ample shoulder and granting him greater access to you.

A mixture between a moan and a whimper invaded his ears, fueling the blaze of his actions and speeding up his attack on your cunt. He used his index and ring fingers to part at your labia, lapping with his flat tongue around the whole area. With blown eyes he looked up at your disheveled face, head thrown back as you tried to control your erratic breathing and he smiled to himself at how responsive you were to his touch.

He had learnt this like he had everything else, through technique, observation and a shit ton of practice. Everyone around him always assumed that just because he had never had a girlfriend before, that meant he had never had sex either. But they’d be surprised at what having your face and name linked to the top twenty best chefs in the country could do for your sex life in a supercilious city like New York. This was probably one of the few good things that he gotten out of it. Seeing you tremble through his actions over his mental stability seemed like a fair trade.

As he saw you fall into a breathless mess above him, a proudness flourished inside him. To know that it was he who turned you into a heap of mumbles and praises with just his skilled mouth.

“Shi-t, babe- so good. So so good…” You were too far gone to be able to say anything else.

He used his fingers to spread you open again and a high pitched cry vibrated in your throat when he wrapped his lips to suck on your clit. You pushed on his shoulder at the intense sensation and he let it go with a ‘pop’ of his mouth, kissing the velvet skin on your thigh and giving you some time to breathe. He took a few seconds to calm his racing heart and his cock jerking inside his jeans.

“As much..” You could barely speak between breaths “as I want you to make me come with your mouth- and I do-" your leg unhooked from his shoulder and you pulled him up by the collar of his shirt. “I really want you to fuck me right now.”

You didn’t give him time for an answer, only sealing your lips above his and groaning when you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands flew to the buttons on his jeans, undoing them with practiced ease, but before you could pull his stiff member from its confinement, Carmy grabbed at your hips and turned you towards the counter. On the wall across from the counter, by the door to your room, rested a tall mirror, long enough where you both could see your heaving upper bodies.

His hand slid to the front to massage at your aching clit, chest pressed tightly to your back.

“God, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you.” He used his free hand to wrap around your neck and tilt your head to the mirror. “My pretty, pretty girl.” He whispered near your ear.

He had no idea what came over him when it came to having sex with you. The way your body responded to his touch caressed a part of his ego he thought dormant so long ago. Yet her you were, all doe eyes and shaky moans, ready for him to fuck you in your kitchen with your family only a few floors down. He really was a lucky son of a bitch.

Carmy used his slick covered hand to wrap around his cock, then gave a few taunting jerks on himself before aligning with your entrance; all while maintaining eye contact with you through your reflection. You gave him a little nod in the mirror, your hand covering over his inked one around your throat, then he pushed slowly into you until he felt your warmth swallow him completely.

Your hands fell flat on the cold counter, the metal clink of your rings hitting the surface as you tried to scratch at something to hold on to. He kept his grasp on your neck steady and his eyes fixed on yours as he quickened his snaps on your hips. He could see your tits bounce in the mirror at his brutal force and it only made him want to go faster.

“I’m not gonna-fuck baby- not gonna last l-longer” You uttered in gasps.

Your back arched towards him when he hit that particular spot he had learned you liked, then he did it again and again until the strength from your legs disappeared completely, folding you over the counter. The fluttering around his cock signaled to him you were almost close and with the way his movements stuttered lightly, he could feel it too.

He closed his hand around your neck again and pulled you to him. A mess of curls and reddened cheeks stared back at him, a pleased smile tattooed across your face.

He whispered filthy praises into your ear. “Look how good you look taking my cock.” He accentuated the words with a deep thrust. “You like lookin’ at yourself while I fuck you?”

You nodded frantically, pulling one of your hands up to grab at the back of his head.

“I like looking at you fuck me.” You answered back in shrill breaths. Your puffs blew on the sweat covered strands around your face, some clinging to the surface of your hot cheeks.

Your answer had him chuckling in delight and he picked up the pace one last time, heavy thrusts creating ripples on the tender skin of your ass cheeks. He circled his free arm around your waist and rubbed on your bundle of nerves until he felt you shiver with an upcoming orgasm, then he skillfully rolled the nub between his fingers and that was enough to have you break under him with a strong moan. Your cunt clung with breathtaking strength around his twitching cock, allowing him three more thrusts before he found his own release inside you.

He took several large puffs above you, the lavender shampoo from your hair calming the erratic beats of his heart. Carmy pulled out slowly out of you and you let out a sensitive whine. He looked down at your tinted skin, attention fully on the drops of creamy white beginning to slip out of you with every involuntary spasm and it surprised him to feel the need to be inside you again.

He kissed your naked shoulder and smiled towards your reflection, the disarrangement of dark curls framing pink cheeks and kiss swollen lips had him clutching at his heart. You could have been there for an eternity, both afraid to break the bubble you had so cautiously created around you, but knowing you had to.

“Is that what you needed help with?” He asked with a grin, reaching for a paper towel and running it under warm water before helping you clean up the mess he had gladly partaken in between your legs. "You coulda just asked..."

A relaxed laugh escaped your lips as you retied the ribbon in your hair and asked him to pass your discarded underwear, then brushed your hands around the ruffles of your dress to make it less wrinkled.

“Honestly I just wanted to get you away from my cousin.” You confessed, then walked towards him and combed your fingers through his hair while he readjusted his jeans.

“Guess I should make you jealous more often then, huh?” He asked and you stopped rubbing the lipstick off his cheek, giving him a glare. “I’m just joking!” Then he pulled you in for a tender kiss.

“C’mon, they’re probably looking for us.”

“Let ‘em look, I don’t fuckin’ care right now.” He whispered back, catching your lips into another sweet long kiss.

“No, seriously. We gotta go.” You managed to say in between kisses and laughs. He planted his lips by your ear and inhaled your perfume.

You smiled, then intertwined your fingers with his and began your hefty walk back down stairs, a mild ache in his abdomen that would keep your escapade present in his mind.

“What the hell?” You faintly said.

A sudden rush of trumpets and string instruments reached your ears the moment you crossed the heavy metal door back into the courtyard. He could see all the guests crowded in a semi circle around a group of men belting out the lyrics to an unfamiliar but attractive song. Your hand held tighter around his and you turned to him with a confused grin.

“Was this you?” You asked above the overpowering music.

He shook his head ‘no’ and turned back to the Mariachi band, only to see Richie walking to them with extended arms, like an orchestra director but with a beer in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

“Whatup fuckos! You missed the whole surprise!” He yelled through the noise.

“This was you?!”

He shrugged, taking a sip from his beer and turning towards the band.

“I felt kinda bad that you quit cause of me, so hope this makes up for it.”

Your hand released Carmy’s as you walked a couple of steps towards his cousin, circling as much as you could around his waist with your arms. Richie stayed frozen in his spot with his gaze down on you, then he looked up to Carmy who just stayed with raised brows. He moved his slender arms around you to hug you back, chin resting down on your head.

He cleared his throat after a few seconds and let you go.

“Okay, enough of that mushy shit.” Richie took another swig.

Someone called your name from the crowd and you turned to Carmy promising you’d be back in a bit, then ran to Syd, who took your hand and spun you around to the beat of the music.

Richie strutted to his cousin’s side and offered him the burning cig.

“That was nice of you. The Mariachi.” He clarified while taking a drag.

“Was nothin’.” He shrugged again. “The fucker owed me a favor.”

Carmy nodded slowly. Riche’s eyes flickered towards him then raised the bottle to his lips.

“She’s..uh… She’s good for you. Try not to fuck it up.” He stated simply, then added “Also you both reek of sex.” and this pulled a soft laugh from Carmy.

They both watched the crowd move rhythmically in silence for a long while, maybe three or more songs, until the musicians stopped and an uproar of clapping and cheers began.

People dispersed into their seats around the long table and you waved Richie and Carmy over to the empty seats around you and the other guys.

As the sun hid behind the skyline and the lights under the trees casted a soft yellow glow around everything, he allowed himself to enjoy the moment away from his looming responsibilities. He ate everything you or your aunts offered him to taste, to the point where both his stomach and his heart felt like they could burst. He then downed it with glasses of Sangria and the constant beers Richie threw at him so he could show off his skill at opening them with a lighter, the only party trick he knew.

At some point, his arm rested on the back of your chair and you leaned your back to rest on his chest, head nestled in the crook of his neck as your grandfather entertained their end of table with the romantic story on how he had met your passed grandmother. It was a beautiful story of ‘the old homeland’ as he called it and as he skimmed the back of his fingers on your smooth arm, Carmy listened attentively. He felt brave enough to let his guard down and plant a single kiss on the crown of your head, but didn’t notice the lingering stares and multiple hidden smiles from both families surrounding you.

Your grandfather’s words swam peacefully in the light haze of his mind, both from the alcohol and the warmth radiating from your palm mindlessly tracing figures on his thigh.

‘Her father pointed a rifle at my head when I asked for her hand. I was not afraid because I knew she would say yes. And if she didn’t? Why would I ever want to live in a world without her by my side?’

Chapter 7.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear & the fox #carmy berzatto #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fx #the bear tv #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader

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