Pairing: Reed Richards x female reader (Professor AU)
Word Count: 1.7K
Summary: You're not happy with the grade you received on your most recent paper in Professor Richards class so you pay him a visit to sort it out (PS these two are already in an established relationship-most likely keeping it quiet lol and she's not necessarily a lot younger than him- as a matter of fact probably a grad student so could be any age you want bc we can go back to school whenever we want! :)
Author's Note: I had originally posted this with Javi in mind but it tanked royally and I just decided to chuck it and then after the Fantastic 4 trailer came out the picture below gave me some simple inspo and I tweaked it a bit and ended up here! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: it has some plot but it's mostly pwp lol, light dirty talk, and dom for both reader and Reed, p in v (wrap it up), and there is softness bc it's me
The faint scent of chalk and something sweeter wafts around you as you step through the door and into his office. Your eyes land on him instantly, and your heart jumps at sight.
He’s sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, hands fiddling with a broken piece of chalk as he stares off at the far wall. His dark hair is tousled as if he’s been running his fingers through it. Your own twitch at your sides.
He looks relaxed, but the frown that pulls at his lips tells you otherwise.
“Professor…” you start. “Are you busy?”
With a hum, his eyes open, meeting yours, their intensity making your steps falter.
“Depends…” he says, not moving from his position.
He remains quiet, his unwavering regard feeling like a physical weight. Your pulse hammers and you step closer, making your way slowly around his desk toward him.
“Sweetheart,” he starts, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “I’m…”
“Stop talking,” you interrupt.
His brows draw together, and his dark gaze follows as you move between his legs.
“What can I do for you?” he asks.
You don’t respond, trailing your fingers down his face and then closing them around his tie, giving it a slight tug to draw him closer. His eyes drift closed, an almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips as he surrenders to your touch.
You straddle his lap, and his muscles tense under you before he spreads his legs, providing you more space to settle onto him, his hands leaving the armrests to close around your waist.
Your arms wrap around his neck, and you bring yourself closer, chest pressed to his, and lean in, kissing his neck softly.
His eyes open, and he looks at you through long lashes.
“What game are you playing right now, sweetheart?”
You kiss him again, just below his ear, and his breathing grows shallow. His hands flex at your waist and he murmurs your name in warning.
“Be quiet,” you order. “If you don’t like this then stop me. Otherwise, zip it.”
His gaze grows dark with desire, and he stays silent.
Your hands find his tie once again and you fumble with the fabric until you have it untied, opening the top buttons of his shirt so it falls open to expose his chest. His muscles grow taut as you press a hand to his skin before slowly dragging it down to the waistband of his pants.
You keep your eyes locked on his face the entire time, watching him react to your attention. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip in anticipation.
His hands grip your waist, using you as leverage to tilt his hips up, grinding into you.
“No,” you say, pulling your hand from his now open belt.
“I’m going to ride you and you’re going to sit there quietly and keep your hands to yourself.”
His fingers dig into your skin for a moment and then he releases you, returning his hands to the armrests.
You push yourself off him to undress, starting with your shirt, slipping it over your head then moving to the zipper at the back of your skirt. You continue until you’re completely bare, and his heated gaze never leaves an inch of your skin.
Your hands go back to his belt, unbuckling it until his cock springs free, hot, and thick between your fingers. You can’t hide your reaction, your lips parting and your breath catching in your throat.
“Stay dressed,” you tell him, trying to keep yourself in control.
He smirks and shifts in the chair, so you have more room to sit. You place your hands on his shoulders, using him for balance as you straddle him again.
With an unsteady breath your gaze catches his and you reach between your bodies, taking him in your hand. At first you tease him, rubbing the head of his cock along your wetness until it coats him.
He lets out a low, impatient groan and his knuckles turn white with the grip he has on the chair.
You sink onto him, taking him all at once and relishing in the burning stretch. He inhales sharply and you watch the muscles in his throat work with his hard swallow. To his credit he remains still as you adjust to him, your legs already shaking.
“I love you like this Professor,” you whisper, lifting yourself.
He moans in response, and you sink back down. Increasing the pace, you slide up and down, gasping softly at the feel of him so deep. Every roll of your hips pulls another sultry sound from his parted lips.
Your fingers ghost along the broad width of his shoulders and down across the open buttons of his shirt. He bucks his hips, but you remind him not to move with a breathless warning.
His body trembles, the veins in his forearms prominent with his exertion of restraint. The sight has you moving faster, the need to watch him unravel making you frantic.
“Kiss me.”
He wastes no time in bringing his lips to yours, kissing you roughly and desperately. You spread your legs wider, trying to take him deeper and deeper. He lets out a hoarse groan against your lips, catching your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down.
His breathing becomes more labored, his moans increasing in between kisses as you roll your hips. You break the kiss, taking his jaw in your hand.
“Look at me. Tell me how good this is.”
His broken moan is all you hear before he finds his words.
“You have no idea how good this is, how good you feel gorgeous. I can’t get enough.”
He bucks his hips again, his restraint slipping.
“Don’t,” you warn.
His head falls back, and you lean forward to lay kisses and soft nips along his neck.
“I need you to do something for me Professor Richards,” you say, forcing yourself to focus.
His only response is the slight tilt of his head as sweat begins to bead along his brow.
“The grade you gave me on my gravitational lensing paper…”
His brows furrow, a small sign that he’s pushing through his haze of pleasure. You slow your movements to a teasing pace, making him savor every roll of your hips.
“I need you to change it.”
His parted lips move but nothing more than a strangled groan passes them, and you stop your movements.
“Well?”
“Why would I do that gorgeous?”
His voice is strained, and you start to pick up your pace again as you drag your nails down his chest and press your lips to his jaw, tracing the strong outline until you meet his ear.
“Because I should have gotten an A+.”
He growls out a curse but doesn’t respond so you stop moving again.
“Say you’ll do it, and I’ll let you touch me,” you purr.
With his jaw clenched tightly he holds your gaze, eyes dark and full of heat.
“Fine,” he hisses. “Now…say it. Tell me I can touch you.”
You nod, feeling your release build.
“Say it!” he hisses.
“Touch me Professor.”
One of his hands grabs your ass, gripping it tightly, and he rises from the chair throwing you down on his desk. He spreads your legs, angling them back to push deeper.
He pounds into you, and you cry out at the intensity of his pace, loving how he’s taking over complete control now. He gathers your wrists in his hand and pins them above your head. His free hand slips between your legs to rub your clit.
You close your eyes, trying to breathe through the overwhelming sensations, feeling your orgasm grow closer. Your back bows as it washes over you, but he doesn’t slow his pace, his dark hair sticking to his forehead as he grunts, “again.”
Your eyes fly open. “I can’t Reed,” you pant.
“You can baby.”
His fingers continue to work over your clit, swollen and oversensitive.
“You’re going to come for me again,” he murmurs. “Beg me for it.”
“Reed…”
“That wasn’t a request,” he warns, and he slams into you hard enough to move the desk.
“Please,” you whisper.
“Louder,” he says.
“PLEASE!”
“You can do better than that gorgeous.”
“Please make me come Professor.”
He strokes you a few more times, pushing deep, and you come around him, feeling your legs give out even under his support.
His jaw tightens and his low rumbling grunt is all the warning you get before he spills inside you, filling you up.
He lets go of your legs, gently resting them along the desk on either side of him and leans over you. He presses butterfly kisses to your collarbone, lazily rocking inside you before pulling out.
After cleaning you up he helps you to stand, tucking you against his chest and pressing his warm palm to your cheek, sweeping his thumb along your jaw then kisses the soft skin below your ear.
“Is this how you plan to beg for all your grades from now on?”
“No.”
He smirks and you dip your head to his neck, burying it there with an inhale. His thumb brushes the inside of your wrist as he takes your hand in his, kissing each fingertip.
“I knew what you were up to the moment you walked in here,” he whispers.
“That’s why you gave me a B…you knew I’d march down here to get what I deserve.”
“Whatever the reason you came here I wouldn’t have been able to stop you anyway sweetheart.”
You pull back, searching his gaze, a sassy quip at his soft words dying on your tongue at the unbridled desire you find in his eyes.
“You have a dangerous amount of power over me…and all I want is more of you,” he murmurs against your lips.
hi: i wrote this in an afternoon on the bus and barely edited this. it only exists because seeing that photo of General Acacius made me feel hornee things®. I don't know shit about roman gladiator times, this is just a debauched excuse to be railed by the man.
trope: forced marriage
pedro character: Marcus Acacius x female reader (you)
warnings: innocence kink, age gap (not specified, but he an old peepaw just how we like him) , names like whore because i am one, forced marriage, Au as fuck because i have no idea what happens in the movie, virgin bullshit, eating out, pp in vv, dubconish, i think that's everything.
RATED 18+
"Take to the bed," the muscular man tells you in a raspy voice as you enter the bedroom, wishing you had your fur. "I leave early for battle at dawn."
He makes no move to leave and so you glance from the waiting bed back over to the imposing figure standing by the fire. His tousled, greying curls are touched by the flickering reflection of the flames behind him.
This is all new to you and almost surreal. You've been taken from your modest home and brought here to a lavish home in Rome. You glance over at your new husband timidly.
"Are you to remain here all night?"
"We are wed," he replies with a wry grin. "Of course we shall spend the night together."
You've been shipped here under your father's greedy love for coin. And now you stand here in the bed chambers of the man who became your husband only hours ago.
General Marcus Acacius; a man double your age with the kind of quiet strength that made you anxious when you first laid eyes on him today, only moments before he slipped the ring onto your finger and you were announced as his.
He drank only a bit of wine at the wedding, a stark contrast to the family of yours that acted like the animals in Marcus' stables with every glass poured. Of course they would celebrate; they'd made a small fortune on your marriage, having sold you off like cattle.
And you now stand across the room from him, your husband, General Acacius, Marcus. A man who served under the infamous Maximus. He cuts a fearsome figure both on and off the battlefield with his broad, muscled frame and serious countenance.
You wear the traditional wedding night garment, a thin dress that is practically see-through. You pull your arms over your chest, hiding your nipples that poke through the thin fabric.
When you'd come to the room you'd been surprised to see Marcus there waiting for you, stoking the fire. You'd been told by the servants that your new husband would be preparing for battle all night. It had brought you some comfort.
But Marcus is here in nothing but his tunic cinched at the waist. His armour is in a pile by the door, his sword there as well. Without it he's still terrifying.
Marcus notes the arms you hold over your chest for modesty and he feels arousal begin to drip lazily into his veins.
"Undress," he says plainly, his dark eyes trailing over your body.
You make no move to follow his orders. If anything you seem angry with him. His fingers twitch next to his thigh as he waits for your compliance. It doesn't come.
The dark grey tunic he wears hangs just above his knees so when he walks over to you you're able to see his muscled legs rippling with power. You quiver as he finally stands in front of you. One thick forearm goes to rest against the wall above your head, his neck craning so he can look you in the face.
"I said undress."
"You will not order me about as if I were your slave," you seethe, your head craning away from him. "I am your wife."
"I am twice widowed," Marcus murmurs as his wide finger traces the curve of your delicate collarbone. "I have come to realize I have little need for a wife."
"Then why bring me here away from my family and my homeland? Why marry me at all if you have no need of me?"
"I have no need for a wife," Marcus repeats roughly, his exhalation landing over your face like a wine-soaked cloud. "But a man always has need for a ready cunt."
You rear back and your hand flies through the air so quickly he's clearly not expecting it. The slap you deliver to his bronzed cheek is so hard that he flinches back at the sensation, but his head remains facing you.
"I am no whore," you hiss. You've never been spoken to like this. "Nor a hole for you to fill at your leisure."
You're horrified when you see him lengthen under his tunic, thick and fearsome looking to your inexperienced eye. He smiles at you when you gaze back up at his face, a feral, ugly grin that has you backing against the stone wall as he advances, his pelvis nudging yours.
"You will be fucked well," Marcus whispers. "So well you will happily call yourself my whore."
You push at his broad chest, free of his usual armour and yet hard to the touch like iron. He doesn't budge, he just presses his pelvis into yours, pinning you to the wall. You feel him there between your legs, warm and waiting and large.
His hand comes to grip your jaw, forcing your unwilling mouth to his. He kisses you fiercely, like he owns you. It disgusts you. He pries your lips open with his own and as he licks into your mouth his tongue tastes of sweet wine.
You wince, trying to wrench from his grip. He only smiles, hands coming to meet at the collar of your nightdress. You shriek as he begins tearing the delicate fabric down the middle and exposing your breasts to the chilled air.
"I desire to see what is now mine," he murmurs, a hand coming to palm your breast.
You bat his hand away, slipping sideways from him into the centre of the room near the bed. He doesn't look upset; he looks amused, as if he were playing a game.
You hold the torn fabric of your dress at your chest, covering yourself as you back away from his advancing figure.
"I am not your anything," you grimace. "Leave at once."
Though your voice is strong you back away, a shuffled step for each strong stride of his until you feel the bed hit the back of your calves.
"This is our wedding night," Marcus says silkily. "And we must consummate."
Before you can deny him he jabs his strong fingers on either side of your clavicle, causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. You gasp when he follows after you, lifting the hem of your dress.
His head is thrust under, making you kick out your legs in fear. What is he doing under there? Fear has you convinced he may bite you.
You go to pull away further when you feel him starting to part your thighs. You squeal anxiously, twisting.
"Get off!"
"Calm yourself, wife," he orders gruffly from beneath your nightgown. He's stronger than you, his hands wide and it's only seconds before he's got your legs hinged over his shoulders.
You continue to cry out, desperate for escape. You're terrified of this brute of a man.
His mouth finds your cunt swollen and wet and when he lays his wide tongue flat and licks a stripe up the seam you suddenly go quiet. You can feel him smile against the lips of your pussy.
"So soft," he murmurs, kissing your sex reverentially before his tongue darts out to sample you again. It's been so long since he had a cunt this soft and sweet against his tongue.
Your hips jump and Marcus can't help but smirk. Under your nightgown all he can see and smell is your sex, open widely thanks to his hands, glistening with his saliva and your own arousal. He feasts on you, groaning as he gets swept away by the sensations your whimpers create in him.
You're on your back, looking up at the beautifully painted ceiling. A celestial pattern that mimics the night outside your window. Your chest heaves, nipples pert and straining as his mouth works against your cunt, making you tingle everywhere.
He's on his knees beside the bed, you're thighs hinged on his broad shoulders, the cream of your skin against his ears. He doesn't care that tomorrow his knees will ache because devouring you as you thrash for him on the bed has him feeling like a young man again.
He sucks the lips of your pussy into his mouth with relish, his hips grinding into the edge of the bed when you cry out. You hear him chuckle before he continues and the sound reminds you that you don't want him touching you like this and bringing out these feelings you've only heard whispers about. Not a man who has decided you're nothing more than a thing to fill.
"Ssstop," you slur above him, unable to focus as your vision blurs.
"No."
You keen breathily, your hands scrabbling to grip the bed. His broad hands cup your ass, forcing your sex harshly against his mouth. You hear vulgar slurping noises coming from underneath your nightgown and your eyes roll back.
You've never had a man before. Your mother warned you about husbands and their selfish desires in the bedroom. But this doesn't feel like what she warned you about. This feels good.
You feel a pressure beginning between your legs and you panic, trying to force Marcus' head from between your thighs but he just grips stronger, tilting his head from side to side as he drinks you down, his tongue wide and stuffing your cunt.
When be begins to suck brutally at your clit, bliss overtakes you, causing your back to arch and a shuddering scream to leave your throat.
Your hips undulate as he continues to fuck you with his tongue, stopping only when you begin to whine that it is too much. He licks you gently after that, cleaning the evidence of your orgasm with relish.
With a creak he stands beside the bed and removes his tunic. In a daze you lay on your elbows, gazing up at his broad, muscular body knowing that if he wanted to he could snap you like a twig. His cock rests heavily between his legs, just as thick and long as you thought. Despite the pleasure he brought you there's still that glint in his dark eyes, a mockery that you can't stand.
"Get away from me."
Your cunt pulses, drooling with your previous release. You try to curl into a ball, facing away from him.
You think he may leave you be but you feel his hand grip your waist. You thrash as he rips the rest of the nightdress off your body before forcing you onto your hands and knees.
"It is now my turn to take, wife. Ready yourself."
He pushes you down onto your belly, curving your ass up to the sky. Then he crawls over you, his hands pinning yours to the bed under his. You feel him there at your entrance and you feel terrified tears stream over your cheeks.
"No need for fearful tears," he assures you as his mouth meets your neck. "You will be crying for more of my cock soon enough."
You cry out as he pushes the head of his length between your dripping folds. He's much too big, the intrusion too great.
"I will make this quick," he grunts. "For your benefit."
Marcus can hardly believe how good the velvet clench of your cunt feels sliding along his cock as he pushes through your virginal barrier. Not since his first wife has he come close to anything this divine.
His teeth come to grip at your shoulder, biting there, marking you as he feeds his cock into your pussy from behind.
Your cries are muted, your pain ignored, because all Marcus can feel is bliss. Bliss as he marks you forever as his. Bliss as his thick cock stretches your walls, bliss as your pussy stings straining to take him all.
And by the time he's buried with his hips against your ass, your shoulder is bruised with the indents of his teeth.
"No more," you beg as he begins to move within you. "Let it be done."
"We have only started," he muses, kissing your damp cheek. "The best is yet to come."
His frame is so broad it covers you entirely, like you're wearing him as a robe draped over your curved body. He rocks into you as his massive hands press yours into the bed.
You feel him pull slightly out before buying himself within your womb. You cry out, head falling forward as the slick feel of his cock buries itself deeper and deeper with every subsequent thrust. With every pump he moves the both of you forward before pulling you back.
And just when the pain is too great, you feel it morph into pleasure. The feel of him thrusting in and out going from sharp to a pleasurable throb.
Marcus senses the change in you when your back starts to arch and your hips start to lean back to meet his. You're enjoying it now, just as he knew you would.
"You like this."
He grins to himself when you don't answer and instead let your head hang between your shoulders.
He continues to tease you, never letting up, waiting until your noises become breathless and needy and then he recedes, chuckling when you whimper his name.
What feels like eternity later the two of you are slick with sweat, your limbs shaking as Marcus watches you from above. His hands are on your hips now, pulling you against him.
He spreads your cheeks wide, groaning when he watches his thick cock filling your tight pussy to the brim.
You're begging for him to give you the same pleasure as before, nearly sobbing with how cock-drunk you are. He feels so good buried between your thighs.
Marcus only smirks down at you, a hand pressed on your lower back, urging your ass up higher for him. He thinks about all the things he's going to do with you before leaving for battle.
The thought is exciting him, sending him erratically pumping as he tilts you back, hand coming to strum your clit as your spine kisses his front. He holds you on his thighs, spread wide and bouncing.
"What are you?" He pants, his lips squished against your cheek, his fingers curling, making you see stars.
"You're. . . You're wife," you manage to croak out, your hands gripping his forearm slung over your chest.
He fucks harder into you, his cock hitting the spot your own fingers can never manage. It's causing more stars behind your eyes, your body limp in his grip like a doll.
"What are you?" Marcus demands again, only now he punctuates his question with a firm slap to your cunt.
You ache where he slapped, but a pleasurable one that sends you closer and closer to falling off the edge of bliss once more. Only this feels so much bigger, so much more intense than when his mouth was on you.
"Say it."
You writhe on his cock, held by one arm around your middle, the other fucking you with his thick fingers over your clit and his thicker cock splitting you with every upward thrust.
"Please, Marcus."
Marcus is so sweaty, his muscles gleaming in the low firelight. He moans lowly, the sound making your toes curl. Then his warm breath is hot on the side of your face.
"Say it and I will give you all that you desire."
You're so close, that pleasure ebbing and coming back stronger with every swipe and thrust. You try to sound it out, but the shame overtakes you again.
"I am you. . . I am your. . ."
Marcus is groaning into your ear again, his thighs twitching as your arousal soaks down his length. But he doesn't stop filling you over and over, his eyes closing as he revels in the pleasure of your milking cunt.
"Say it."
And now he presses the heel of his palm against your sex, holding you by the throat under your chin as your head snaps back onto his shoulder. Exposed like an animal Marcus stakes his claim, latching his mouth onto your neck and sucking.
"I am . . . I am. . ."
His thrusting continues and now he forces you back onto your hands and knees, draping his body over yours, fingers and cock never stopping, only drilling you from a new angle. He watches your sweet ass ripple for him as he pounds into your cunt, marvelling at how puffy and shiny and perfect she is.
"Say it," he booms and you can feel his thrusting growing staggered, his body fucking into you with all that he has.
And you can't hold the words back any longer, not when it feels like your very ecstasy hinges on them being said out loud. It tears from you, ripped from your very vocal chords as he sinks into you, your voice shrill and cracked as you scream it.
"I am your whore!"
The answering groan of Marcus in your ear makes you cry out loudly, coating his stroking fingers with hot arousal as you cum.
“My whore,” he hisses as you buck against him.
You shake the entire time, confused at how everything in you burst like a ripe berry on the vine and yet you remain outwardly unchanged. Surely you very soul must have left you at that pinnacle of pleasure. You've never felt anything like it.
And yet here you remain, in his arms in his bed, human and alive. You both pant heavily, the room smelling of sex and sweat and the oils in your hair.
Marcus tugs you against him and you roll towards his body, pliant and willing. His mouth finds yours but it's soft and delicate. Your hands run through his soft, greying curls.
"Are you satisfied?"
You ask it quietly, almost afraid to know his true thoughts. He's experienced in so many ways, twice your age, strong and capable. And yet the kiss he gives you is gentle. It curves as he smiles against your waiting mouth.
pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader
summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip.
tags: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah
word count: 2.9K
a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !
“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table.
Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?
“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house.
Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel.
Joel.
Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.
Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better.
Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older.
You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.
The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn.
As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”
“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.
Well? Do you know any better?
The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples.
You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend.
You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly.
Joel.
Need you, Joel.
You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers.
Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel.
Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.
He was watching you.
Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin.
You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.
It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him.
After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.
About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot.
As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room.
Was he..?
You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline.
“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?”
Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.
You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat.
You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed.
“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him.
“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in.
“J-Joel.” You strain.
“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.”
“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.
His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits.
“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole.
“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him.
There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars.
You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw.
“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release.
And just then, he pulls out.
“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break.
“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips.
His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.
“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.
He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you.
You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours.
Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you?
red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !
a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!
a/n: The premiere look was a literal gift from the Gods, truly fantastic stuff. With that said, of course I had to work on the next chapter of The General and his Girlwife. This isn't the end for them, there is still so much life for them and I have a whole inbox full of amazing asks (I promise I haven't forgotten about them!) to get through, and I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! Hope you enjoy 💕xo
Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy because he's a KING, lactation kink, creampie, Marcus gets emotional, pregnancy and baby stuff, childbirth and some graphic descriptions of pain, talks of infertility, **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!
This is the fic I referenced in this preview
Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader
word count: 5k (whoops!)
reblogs are appreciated
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The ritual had been completed, and a week later–life had gone back to normal. The two of you had vowed to put it out of your mind until the Gods made their intentions for you clear.
Marcus, however, was leaving; he'd been called on by the Emperor for a tour, and he had no choice but to accept.
You pouted, and he smiled.
“It is only for a short time, my love. Barely a moon's turn and I will be back in this house, and your arms.” He smiled despite your obvious displeasure, giddy with the way you clutched so greedily at him.
“I wish to follow you Marcus, I do not wish to stay here without you.” You buried your face into his neck, taking in his comforting scent greedily. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding him close while his own wrapped tightly around your waist.
“And I wish nothing more than for you to be with me, but you cannot. It is not a place for women and I would not have my beautiful,” his hands cupped your cheeks, pressing kisses to your mouth between words, “lovely, tempting wife there pulling at my attention, as well as that of the bolder men in my company.”
You sigh, knowing he would not change his mind.
“Very well. I will content myself alone.” Your tone made him laugh, and you smiled into his skin, well aware that you sounded more akin to an unruly child than a grown, married woman.
“You are spoiled, terribly misbehaved and spoiled.” His hands slipped down and grabbed at your backside, “and it is entirely my fault.”
“Yes it is.” You jut your chin out and he pressed a kiss to it. “When do you leave?”
“Preparations are being made and I depart in three days time.” He pressed another kiss to the back of your hand, smiling as he led you to sit with him. “Once I am back, I shall plan something for us. How does that sound?”
“And what shall you plan?”
“We could travel, we could go to the sea and take in the fresh air, we could do anything my love. Whatever makes you happy.” His eyes shone with the same love you felt in your very bones for him.
“I only need you for that.”
-
The intensity of the craving made you frown, pulling your attention from the task of refilling the cellars of your house. One minute you had been taking note of how much grain there was, how much olive oil and wine was in your stores and the next, the desire for figs and honey and fresh, ripe pomegranate was so strong it almost moved your feet towards the kitchens. You stopped yourself though, running through your mental tally of days since your last blood and willing yourself to stay calm.
“Girl, be a dear and fetch me figs and honey if you would.” You pat her hand softly, unable to stop yourself from softening the imagined blow of asking for something instead of fetching it yourself. Her eyes widened for a moment, before nodding.
“Yes Domina.” She ran off, and you ignored the looks of the women who were helping you with your accounts.
“Shall we call for a Medicus, Domina?” The eldest of them whispered in your ear, one who has always treated you with a softness that at times felt motherly, her work roughened hand landing soft on your shoulder. Nerves fluttered in your belly, a deep seeded fear threading through your very being as the memory of your loss filled your mind's eye so vividly it set your hands to shaking. But another emotion emerged, a fragile thing coloured with a hope so big it didn’t fit within your body. Without Marcus, it was difficult to navigate the swirl of different feelings fighting for dominance.
“Domina, let me call for the Medicus.” Gently, she guided you to sit, silently dismissing the staff tending to you. “I think it best you rest while we wait, I shall have him brought here to look you over.”
“Yes, yes that is what we must do. I—yes I should rest a while.” With a shaky breath you smiled a smile that did not reach your eyes, and headed towards your chamber.
When the medicus finally did arrive, the older woman held your hand, doing much to calm you in the absence of Marcus. Silently the man went about his business, checking and prodding and looking for the signs that you tentatively prayed were there.
When he raised his head and smiled with a nod, both you and the woman cried with joy.
-
He was eager to step foot in his house, eager to be reunited with his heart.
His blessedly peaceful campaign had gone well, the Emperor was in good spirits and for the first time in years, there was peace. He couldn’t wait to tell her how it had gone, couldn’t wait to press his kisses upon her skin.
The house was surprisingly quiet when he finally arrived, the guards were hushed, his usual attendants were nowhere to be seen and his love was not where he thought he’d find her.
When he reached their shared room things were stranger still, the gauzy linens were drawn across the windows, blocking out most of the sunlight. Incense was burning, and for a moment he feared she’d fallen ill while he’d been gone.
“My love? What is the matter?” She reclined in their bed, propped up on a nest or pillows, and her face lit up to see him. She was glowing, a soft sheen shining on her brow and for a moment he thought it might be a fever but she looked well, she looked beautiful.
“I am well Marcus, truly.” She beckoned to him, arms outstretched and he all but ran to her side, sitting close to hold her hands. “We have been blessed, my love, truly blessed.” Tears shone in her eyes, he frowned for a moment until she placed his hand on her belly, and then it felt like his heart would jump out of chest.
“You are sure?” He brought his face to her womb, pressing his lips to it while trying not to fall apart with joy. “Truly?”
“It has been confirmed, I am with child. You are to be a father, Marcus.” She shone with life, with vitality and was as beautiful as a Goddess, he couldn’t handle the joy in his heart. He wept into her belly, thanking the Gods, and praying for the health of the love of his life, and the child inside her.
-
Every single day of those first few weeks greeted you with fear.
Every free minute, every spare thought was filled with silent prayer, offerings were made to appease the Gods, you ate only the foods suggested by the Medicus. Marcus let you do nothing except rest, and take short, slow walks throughout the house. He was thorough with the instructions given to him, he rubbed the special oil onto the skin of your belly to help with the growth, he never left your side, he was gentle in all things.
Once you started to show, and the most dangerous period had passed, even you started to shed some of the fear. Hope, and joy filled the house and everyone shared in it. The women were eager to have a little one running around, Marcus grew more and more excited at the prospect and filled your house with things for the child. Toys and a special chair, robes and little tunics to dress them in.
“Have you thought of a name?” You asked him as he rubbed at your tired feet, easing the ache as your stomach seemed to grow before your very eyes.
“I have, but I haven’t really given any option much thought. It is best to wait until the child is born I think. And you? Is there a name you favour?”
“Well, a boy would definitely be named Marcus after you.” You smiled, imagining a miniature of him.
“And for a girl?”
“We could honour the Gods, name her Diana, I also think Aurelia is quite pretty, or Acacia and name her after her father.” Your smile grew, imagining a little darling with his soft waves, his square feet.
“Fine choices.” He smiled, moving to the other foot and you sighed, soothed by his touch.
“I will pray for a boy, to carry your name and carry on your legacy.” He shook his head.
“Give me a clever girl with your eyes, and your smile and I shall be happier than any other man alive.” He pressed a kiss to your shin. Tears sprung to your eyes, it was happening a lot of late, the baby made your emotions run rampant, his sweetness didn’t help.
“There there my love, no tears.” He soothed with gentle tone, well aware of your sensitivity, yet still as patient and loving as always.
“I cannot help it, the joy is overwhelming, the love for you, for this little being is too much to fit inside me.” You held your belly, tears falling to dampen the skin of your chest. He moved to sit beside you, and gathered you into his arms, once again soothing you beyond words could explain.
“I understand, I have been so blessed in this life it is difficult not to dwell and fear the worst. Let us just enjoy our good fortune, no more tears, it pains me to see you cry.” He pressed his lips to your forehead and you nodded silently, throat aching with emotion.
With a tenderness that only made the ache stronger, he kissed the tear stains on your skin, smiling softly. When he got to your mouth, it was a reassuring press, a silent promise to you and to the life growing inside. It helped, but your mood, your appetites changed like the winds these days and the tears turned to desire for him so fast it made your head spin.
Your tongue breached his mouth, corrupting the softness of his kiss and pulling a groan from somewhere in his chest. His hand pressed softly to your womb, while his mouth claimed yours in the softness of your shared bed.
“Marcus-” It came out half moaned, half pleading.
“Yes my love?” He breathed the words into the skin of your neck, his tongue mapping out the lines he liked to travel with his kisses, unsurprised at how quickly your passion for him was stirred with the child inside.
“Do you desire me? Do you wish for me to give you my cock?” Slowly, he exposed you, pulling the special tunic made to accommodate your belly off. The large swell, the heavy weight of your breasts, the swelling in your feet–all of the changes in your body had made you fear he would no longer find you desirable. He’d been quick to correct that assumption however.
With your lip caught between your teeth, you nodded.
Carefully, he turned you on your side, supporting the weight of your belly with pillows and linens before divesting himself of his own layers. The sight of him, skin golden and cock hardening turned your cunt to liquid. He smiled at the open desire on your face, positioning himself so he straddled the thigh resting on the bed, while lifting and holding the other, lining himself up at the mouth of your cunt.
“Are you comfortable?” Your heart swelled for a moment, smiling at him before nodding.
He took himself in hand, stroking a few times to bring himself to full mast before finally sinking in to the hilt.
“So wet.” He whispered almost to himself, eyes focused on the way your cunt swallowed his length whole, coating it in your arousal. “My pretty little wife, with her pretty little cunt.” His fingers gripped at your thigh while he found his rhythm, angling himself to find the spot–
You keened, gasping as he huffed out a satisfied laugh.
“There it is, that is the spot, yes?” He focused, hitting it like a bullseye while you clutched at the linens, too blissed out to answer but it mattered not, he knew. Sweat beaded on his brow, the muscles in his arms gleamed in the low candlelight as he panted out his exertion. His beauty so obvious, so highlighted there as he loved you that it filled the little space in your belly not filled with his child with the beating of butterfly wings.
Your fingers reached out to him, needing to feel him surround you and he smiled, leaning forward to catch the tips of them with his lips while his hips moved faster. Your arousal pooled at the base of him, soaking the fine patch of hair between your legs, as well as the curls at the base of his cock.
With a crooked grin, he reached between your legs to swirl his thumb around your swollen clit and the climax is so close your legs start to tremble.
“Don’t stop, please don’t stop Marcus–” It was so close, building like a fire in your hips, spreading like lightning throughout your veins, dripping from where you were joined onto the linens of your bed. Your hand crept down, joining his to press his fingers closer, to guide his movements faster until you burst around him, squeezing him so tight he groaned and slowed his steady thrusting to a grind, his groin pressed tight. Your cunt fluttered around him, pleasure blooming and flooding your body like good, strong wine and it only intensified when he started moving again, chasing his own end while you floated on your cloud. It only took him a few thrusts before he filled you, fucking his seed deep.
His chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, smiling and laughing softly as he pulled himself out.
Your combined passion smeared against your hip when he surged forward to claim your mouth in a kiss. His big hand curled around the curve of your neck softly, such a contrast to how it gripped your thigh. It slid down, smooth as silk before squeezing at your breast.
“Oh!’ The warm drip shocked you, the milk beaded at your nipple before dripping down the valley between your breasts. The bigger shock though, was how quickly he chased it with his tongue. The arousal only flared again, sharp as a knife at the moan he let out. With an almost drunk expression, he wrapped his lips around the peak, and tasted your milk straight from the source.
“Good?” Your fingers threaded through his sweat-soaked waves, cradling him close while he drank deep. His expression was almost sheepish, almost ashamed when he pulled away.
“I do not know what has come over me,” He licked at the tip, staring at the other breast longingly, “I had to taste you, it’s so sweet.” He dipped his head again, drinking from the other breast, deep, strong pulls that only made the red hot coal of desire within you burn even brighter than before. When he pulled away he was breathing hard, shocked at his own reaction.
“Did I hurt you?” He licked at sensitive peaks again, filling your brain with a fog of lust so strong you could barely think.
“No, not at all, it feels really good.” You pulled him closer, urging him to drink, while guiding his hand between your legs. With a knowing grin, he obeyed.
-
You knew from the moment your eyes opened in the morning, that the baby would come. There was an ache, a pulsing, a violence to its movements within your womb. The child was as impatient to emerge, as you were to give birth and finally have it whole and healthy in your arms.
With a sigh, you tried to adjust yourself, smiling as Marcus pressed himself closer in his sleep, his big hand holding the swell.
“I think today is the day, hmm?” You whispered to your belly, it kicked hard enough to make you wince.
“Gods above, I felt that one, this child will be strong.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pulling another sigh from you. “How are you feeling?”
“I think it will be today, it feels like the baby has moved lower.” You did your best to rise, groaning before he all but lifted you to sit upright.
“I will make the preparations, the midwife is ready and waiting for our summons.” He rose quickly, making you laugh with his urgency.
“Peace Marcus, it will not be right this second, but I do feel it mightl be today.” You stood, gingerly padding towards him, waving away his frown of concern. “Walking is good for me, it will help me with my labours.” He still frowned, meeting you halfway and squeezing you as tightly as he could without causing you pain.
“I will be with you, at your side the whole time.” There was a small tremble in his voice you did not recognize, a nervous aura about him that seemed to bolster you. How curious, you thought, that his moment of fear, is my moment of courage.
“The midwife and her attendants will be there, most men wait until the child is born–”
“I am not most men. I will be with you, holding your hand and wiping at your brow. This is a battle I cannot fight for you, but no one will keep me out of that room.” He pressed his face into your neck and you softened, his fear was justified. Many children did not survive their coming into the world, many mothers died alongside them. You said nothing, nodding softly as his fingers dug into your robes.
The sun made its way across the sky and as it did your pains grew stronger. Cramps painful enough to steal your breath would squeeze at you like a fist for a few minutes before releasing you. The midwife walked with you, she took note of how much time passed between each attack, readying the birthing stool as well as her oils, her sponges and enough water and linens to be able to tend to both you and the baby.
The sun was kissing the horizon when the water came, spilling all over your feet like a tidal wave and sending Marcus into a cold panic.
The midwife did her examinations while your body ripped itself in two. With barely contained screams, and sweat dripping down your brow you got into position, doing your best to focus on your breathing while Marcus kept his word, silently wiping at your brow, and letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you could.
“It must be now, push.” The midwife and one of her girls were in place, moving your robes aside to have access and you did what you had to do. You pushed.
It was agony.
It was liquid fire burning its way through your body, this baby wasn’t being born, it was clawing and tearing its way out of you.
Marcus whispered into your ear, encouragingly, lovingly, patiently guiding you to breathe, to not give up. He reminded you how strong you were, how loved and how soon it would be over. How could it be over soon? It felt as though this pain had been with you at your own birth, all of your life this pain has been here, it had to be. Hours, days? You could not tell how long it had been.
You cried, you begged for it to end, you willed it to be so; shouted and screamed that it hurt too much, that it was too hard and that you could not do it. You told them that the baby would not come, that you could not do this, you were not strong enough. You screamed that this would surely kill you, you would tear in two and die.
“You will not die, you can do this, my love. Bear down, and push.” His gaze was steely, focused and firm and it filled you with courage.
With a sob and a scream you pushed, and pushed. You pushed so much you thought you’d burst and then pushed more still. Until finally, blessedly, the baby came out.
“You have done it! You have done it my love, my beautiful, strong, courageous girl, you have done it!” Tears were in his eyes as he held onto your limp form, but he was not looking at you.
“Why does the child not cry?” It felt like you’d drunk too much wine, the relief from the pain so great you would faint soon, yet still, silence. There was a lot of movement, a terrifying moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity and despite Marcus all but carrying you and laying you back to rest, no one met your eye.
“Answer me, Marcus, why does the baby not cry? Give it to me! Is it a boy? Is it a girl?” Tears flowed and fear swelled like bile crawling up your throat until a cry loud enough to hurt your ears sounded and the entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“She is a beautiful, healthy and whole baby girl.” Swaddled and screaming, the bundle was placed at your breast. Marcus sobbed, openly and loudly into your shoulder, his big hand covering her tiny head while you looked at her in awe. She had so much hair, such strong lungs, such a force that you laughed, still crying.
“Yes my little love, I know, you fought so hard.” You pressed a kiss to her little brow, doing your best to soothe her.
She took to nursing your breast quickly, a good sign the midwife said and while she and her girls set everything to rights, you could focus on nothing but her. Her little hands clutched at you, taking a few greedy pulls before falling asleep, milk smeared all over her perfect face.
“She is utterly perfect, she has your hands.” Marcus lay beside you, his gaze on her as though entranced.
“She has your hunger.” You smiled, the euphoria eclipsing everything. It was so hard to stay awake though, the birth had taken so much out of you.
“Give her to me and rest. I will be here with you.” With gentle hands, he took her, managing to put her onto his chest without waking her and before he’d even fully settled, sleep had claimed you.
-
She had fought, both of them had.
His girls had battled, fought tooth and nail and had come through victorious, though his love had paid a price. She’d bled, bled enough that it had frightened him, chilled him to the bone and when the midwife pulled him aside he already knew what she would say. There would be no more children, another birth might kill her.
He mourned the fact that his daughter would have no siblings, no other children to fill this house alongside her but his wife would live. That was all that mattered.
He watched her as she slept, glowing still, if a little wan, weakened by her labours but beautiful all the same. He could no longer imagine living this life without her, he could not see the joy in anything without her there beside him and now his daughter held the other half of his heart. She was the fruit of their union, she was the parts of them that would live on, the living embodiment of his good fortune and just the sight of her filled his eyes with tears.
He pressed his lips to her little brow, smiling at the furrow in them when he jostled her, so like her mother it made him cry all the harder.
This was all that mattered, his entire world was in this bed and he was loath to ever be separated from them again.
He didn’t know which name to call her, they’d never settled on anything. Acacia didn’t seem right, how could he name her after himself when she so resembled her mother already? Aurelia, that was pretty, Diana too. He would wait though, let her have the last say. He basked in the glow of the candles, in the comfort of his wife’s warm weight beside him, in the small weight at his chest and said another silent prayer in thanks.
-
She was so big already, three whole months and her growth never ceased to amaze you. She still looked tiny in her fathers arms, his broadness compared to her small body always made you smile, especially because for her he was less the brutal Roman General, and more of a soft, lump of honey. She ruled him implicitly, her every cry, her every happy sound was the reason he breathed.
“My love, I need to change her, those little robes are covered in milk.” There was no bite in your words, there could be no anger or annoyance in you at his adoration of her.
“Yes, yes you are right, she must be changed.” He smiled, bringing her to you. She was tired, yawning and fussing, fighting off her midday slumber with a fierceness that made you laugh.
“Yes yes I know Diana, one moment and then your father will rock you.” You cooed at her, making quick work of the change and taking the opportunity to wipe her down with a damp cloth before returning her where she slept the best, her fathers chest.
Once he took her and sat at his favoured chair, she was out, little fist curled under her chin. This was his favourite, and yours. Watching her sleep peacefully, safe and loved within your arms, or his.
“I never grow tired of studying her, already her little face is changing.”
He pressed his lips to her head, breathing in the clean, baby milk smell of her.
“She will have your hair, already it curls when I wash it.” You thread your fingers through the fine wisps of it softly, smiling to imagine her older with curls flowing down her back.
“She has your look, your look exactly. I am still in awe that we have created something so perfect.” His hand took yours and brought it to his lips, you bent to press yours to his forehead.
“As am I, how blessed we are to have her, to have each other.”
-
When he slipped into bed, you pressed your fingers to your lips, eyes wide to warn him.
“She is finally asleep, we must not wake her.” Your whisper was frantic, and he nodded.
“Yes my lady, I will be silent as the grave.” He pulled you close, whispering in your ear before pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.
“So long as you can keep your voice down when I love you.” His hands pawed at you but you were so tired, it was hard to reconcile the intense want for him, with the ache of the day settling heavy on your bones.
“My love, my mind desires this, but my body is so tired.” You pouted at him, mildly upset to deny him.
“Shall I use my mouth? You can lay back and relax, I can take care of you—my lovely girl deserves pleasure, and rest.” He smiled, undeterred and you could not help but smile.
“And it does not bother you that I will just lay here? Most likely asleep before you have come up for air?” His grey waves were so soft when you raked your fingers through them.
“It pleases me to please you, you are the mother of my child and the love of my life, I would do anything for you.” He kissed your fingers before spreading your legs wide with the breadth of his shoulders. “Do you wish for me to stop?” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and then the soft patch of hair at your mound, before kissing the lips of your sex.
“No, I do not wish for you to stop.” You spread your legs a little wider and his smile grew bigger, letting a big glob of his own spit fall onto your sex before chasing it with his tongue.
He is focused, honed in with his gaze and with his tongue on your clit, flat wide licks from where your arousal drips up to the bundle of nerves and it’s like a spike of arousal pierced the very heart of you every time he swiped his tongue over it. Warm, wet and perfect, he swirled around it in time with your heartbeat, fanning the embers burning in your belly for him.
The fingers that softly scratched at his scalp, now curled into the waves holding him in place as you struggled to keep your mouth shut, but he made it so difficult. The ache building as his brow creased with concentration and his own excitement. His own hand crept down and grasped his cock, stroking at it in time with the delicious circuit of his tongue. That he gained so much pleasure from this only heightened your own, and soon the knot tightened.
Muscles clenched, all of your body a taut string waiting to snap with every pass, every strong lick. You pinched at a nipple, pulling his eyes up to find yours and he let out a low groan, the vibration of it pushed you over the edge with a silent gasp, and empty rhythmic clenches around nothing. He bestowed a final, filthy kiss to your overstimulated clit before moving quickly to get into position. With the shine of exertion glinting on his golden skin he knelt between your legs, pumping at himself furiously before silently, violently spilling onto your still fluttering sex. Hot, milky splashes of him covering it while he gripped at your thigh hard enough to bruise.
He caught his breath, smearing himself in his own mess between your legs past the point of discomfort. He was so beautiful like this, with the flush of passion lighting up his cheeks and his ears, spreading down his chest.
He smiled, winking at you before he grabbed the cloth from the basin and cleansing the mess he had made. You wanted to hold and be held by him, but by the time he was done, you were already asleep.
Summary: he returned to Rome in glory, he returned to you
Warnings: smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't do it!), fingering, mention of pregnancy, a few nasty words
A/N: that was a quick shot. i hope you'll be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes
You saw perfectly how his brown eyes widened when he saw you in the crowd of guests in the Emperor's palace. The golden wreath on his curly dark hair, the sun-kissed body dressed in white and gold - he looked like one of the Gods you could worship in a temple.
And wasn't he one of them? One of those legendary heroes? The one who brought glory to the Roman Empire. One of your Emperor's favorites.
Wasn't he the man you had loved for so long?
When he crossed the threshold of your home late in the evening, you could finally fall into each other's arms. In that moment, he was your Marcus, the man you loved more than life, to whom you had promised loyalty, to whom you had promised eternal devotion and faithfulness.
His warm, plush lips crushed against yours in a kiss full of longing and love that you had to keep so far from each other. Strong arms wrapped around you like vines, but you clung to him with your whole body, yearning for his closeness so much.
"Almost four years..." he sighed as he rested his forehead against yours "I counted every day, my love. And every day was unimaginable torture."
Your hand stroked his bearded cheek "I knew you would return. The Gods promised to give you back to me, and here you are. Safe and sound." Your fingers tenderly stroked the scar on his cheek, slipping into his hair interwoven with silver threads "I can't believe you're finally here."
Marcus' hands tightened around your waist "Tell me you're not just a beautiful dream..."
"I'm here, my love." You whispered, tenderly touching his lips "All yours." He pressed his lips to yours as if he had to make sure that you weren't a dream, laughing, you pulled away from him slightly "Marcus, we need to talk, so much has happened..."
"We have the whole next day, our whole lives for this. Please... Let's not talk tonight. I want to love you, adore you, caress your body." He sounded like a man possessed, hungry for your body "I need to remind myself of every curve of your body. I want to taste you and immerse myself in your sweetness. I beg you, my beloved..."
You couldn't refuse him, you didn't want to. The dream of the warmth and closeness of his body had haunted you almost since he left for that cursed war. You couldn't wait any longer.
The heavy door of your chamber closed, and after a moment you were both taking off your robes. Hands craving a familiar touch, lips searching for each other. Hot lips wandered around your neck when you felt the cool sheet under your fingers. Marcus raised himself on his shoulders, his dark as night eyes roaming your body.
"Give me a moment..." he said as you tried to pull him closer to you. "You're more beautiful than I remember you."
You laughed quietly, a little embarrassed by his confession. "I'm definitely older."
"As am I. But to me you'll always be equal to the goddesses."
"Don't say that, Marcus. Don't incur the wrath of the Gods, they can be jealous."
A mocking smile appeared on his face. "I'm not afraid! The earth could open up beneath me and swallow me alive, but I won't stop repeating it. You are a goddess, my love. I dedicate my life to serving you. Only you."
"Then do it. Use your body and all your strength to do it."
You didn't have to repeat it twice. Your lips connected again in a strong and deep kiss. His tongue invaded between your lips, extracting from you those sweet moans that returned to him during sleepless nights.
His hard cock rested on your thigh, and you felt excitement and fear, it had been so long since you felt him inside but you wanted him so much.
Marcus' lips slid down to your sternum, then your breast. He kissed it and bit it lightly, despite the time he still remembered everything that made your body tremble. When the nipple disappeared in his mouth you felt your walls tighten slightly, giving you a signal that you couldn't wait any longer. But it was Marcus who dominated you, doing whatever he wanted with your body.
When his long fingers moved over your slippery folds you moaned shamelessly.
"So thirsty..." he whispered, his lips brushing your belly "Let me prepare you first, love. Let me..." two fingers slid inside you with incredible ease, all the way to his knuckles "I've got you."
Your body arched like a string, the stretch felt so good. Marcus pulled his fingers out and after a moment he pushed them back in, watching your reaction with great pleasure.
"If you could see it." he kissed the inside of your thigh tenderly "So hungry, so greedy."
"Harder..." you moaned, grabbing his wrist and trying to take control, but he wouldn't let you.
He grabbed yours with his other hand, quickly brushed it with his lips, and then his fingers started moving faster and harder. You heard that lewd sound that showed how wet you were and how your body reacted to his caresses.
"Give me everything. Cum on my fingers, love." Marcus panted, feeling his hard cock throb at the sight of your body. "Don't torture yourself like that, love. Cum."
And you did. Your thighs clenched as a shiver of pleasure ran through your body, and a sweet moan escaped your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your head buzzing, but suddenly Marcus took control again.
His strong arms spread your thighs, and his hard cock slid inside you without warning. You lost your breath. Your eyes rolled back under your eyelids, and when his strong body pinned you to the bed, you knew there was no escape.
"Fuck..." he moaned loudly, dazed by the feeling. "You're so tight, so warm..."
"Marcus... I feel like you're going to tear me apart..." you moaned, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "Gods!"
"Don't summon them, love." he mumbled quietly, brushing your lips "They'll be jealous of us."
His hand grabbed your leg under the knee and he lifted it slightly, thrusting into you even deeper. You didn't know how on earth it was possible, but his cock seemed to dig into you even more with each thrust.
His body, his strength intoxicated you. Your beloved transformed under your fingers into a barbarian who came to your bed just to fuck you and use your body as he wished.
You felt another orgasm building inside you and you wanted to tell him that, but in an instant Marcus lifted himself up. Without leaving you he pulled you with him and sat on his heels, you fell onto his thighs, impaling yourself on him even more.
Your arms wrapped around his neck tighter, fingers entangled in his hair as he lifted your body and used it as he wanted to, to get what he came for.
"I'm so close, so close." he breathed into your ear. "I want to feel you again, give it to me. Give it to me!"
As if on command, your body gave in. Your walls trembled and squeezed around his manhood, you clung to him tighter as he now pressed you hard and violently against his cock. But Marcus was close too and soon you felt his body tense up and he poured into you, filling you up with his warm seed.
You were both panting, your bodies still sweaty and hot. His heartbeat mixed with yours and no matter how many breaths you took, it still wasn't enough.
"You're definitely not a dream." he murmured, kissing your shoulder gently.
"How can you be so sure?" you giggled, looking fondly at his blissful face.
"The Gods would have to be incredibly cruel if they let me experience immortality with you and then ordered me to return to mortal life." his fingers tenderly stroked your back "You have to be real."
You kissed him tenderly feeling indescribable love for this man. At the same time, however, a small flame of anxiety rose in your heart thinking about the upcoming day.
He was torn from his sleep by the quiet sound of the door closing, and then your footsteps on the stone floor. He lazily rubbed his eyelids and opened them, noticing you pouring yourself a glass of water.
"Why did you get dressed?" His voice was hoarse, and it gave you shivers "I didn't say I was done with you."
You smiled, walking over to the bed and sitting on its edge "You were done with me at least three times last night, General." you noticed, leaning down and kissing his soft lips "You should rest your loins."
"I'll rest after death. Right now, I just want to keep my cock between your thighs, where it belongs." he replied "I've been thinking about it for almost four years and I have no intention of giving you up now."
Marcus noticed the smile disappearing from your face, and your gaze wandered to the window open to the garden. He knew that look. Something was worrying you and occupying your mind.
He sat down on the bed, his hand tenderly stroking your arm. "What's wrong, my dear? Something's on your mind."
"Marcus... So much has happened since you left." You said quietly. "I don't even know where to start... It all scares me so much."
"What do you mean?" he asked. "Tell me, because I can see how much you're struggling."
He saw you nervously squeezing your fingers, and your eyes avoiding his gaze. Finally, you stood up and took a few steps. Marcus watched you carefully as he put on his robe, a strange fear growing in his heart.
What if this was all just a dream? What if you tell him to wake up now?
You were already opening your mouth to say something when a commotion in the hallway and quick footsteps tore your attention away. The door opened wide and a small boy rushed into the room.
"Mommy!" he called, running up to you and wrapping his small arms around your legs.
Right behind him, a woman in a servant's robe ran in, apologizing from the entrance. "My lady, he wanted to see you so much. I told him you had a guest, but he..."
"Nothing happened, Tullia." You replied, smiling faintly, clearly embarrassed. "Please, take him to the garden." You ran your fingers through the boy's dark, curly hair. "I'll see you in a moment, okay, little bug?"
The boy smiled and grabbed the servant's hand, gave Marcus a quick glance with his brown eyes, and left the room, leaving you in complete silence.
You could clearly feel the tension that had grown between you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if you wanted to hide, and looked up at Marcus. Surprise was written on his face. His dark eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. He stared at the door, and only your voice made him look at you.
"I didn't know how to tell you this..." you whispered "I've been planning this in my head for almost four years, and now I'm standing in front of you and I'm speechless."
"You're a mother." His voice was low, you nodded "All this time I thought you were waiting for me, and you..."
"Marcus, let me explain, please." You wanted to approach him, but he just raised his hand, and you froze.
He swallowed, and his dark eyes were fixed on you like daggers ready to attack "Before I left we promised each other... You promised me that you would wait for me. That you would be faithful to me."
"And I was." You groaned.
"Don't lie to me!" he roared, and you stepped back, scared "For four years I lived only thanks to the thought that you were waiting for me, that you loved me despite everything. And now? You promised me!"
"Let me explain, Marcus." Your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. "You don't understand..."
He was like a beast locked in a cage. His eyes darkened and his hands clenched into fists. It was the first time he looked at you with such contempt and disappointment, and your heart was breaking with every passing second.
"I thought you were devoted to me. That you committed to waiting for me, if I knew you were just a whore..."
These words were the last straw that broke the camel's back. You suddenly straightened up and raised your head, looking at Marcus defiantly.
"Don't talk to me about commitment, devotion and loyalty when that's what I've been doing for four years." you said sharply, you saw that he opened his mouth, but this time you didn't let him get a word in. "I was pregnant when you left Rome with the army. For many months I hid it from my surroundings, but I still heard the whispers and gossip. I carried him under my heart, gave birth to him and I raised him alone, despite everything. Despite the lack of guarantee that you'll come back. So you have no right to talk to me about commitment and loyalty, or judge me without knowing everything! Julius is your son. You can either accept it or leave."
Marcus looked as if you had stabbed him at that moment. There was silence and only the laughter coming from the garden tore you out of this freeze. The General approached the door leading to the garden. Between the bushes and flowers he saw the silhouettes of a few boys playing, including the one who called you mother.
"I didn't know..." he said quietly, his eyes following the boy carefully.
"How were you supposed to know?"
"Call him."
"Marcus, please..." you whispered, a cold shiver running down your spine.
He looked at you, but you couldn't read anything on his face. "Call him, please. Or I will." He could see, however, that you were unable to utter a word. "Julius! Come here, boy."
The sounds of fun faded away and after a moment you heard the shuffling of sandals as the boy approached you, dragging a wooden sword behind him. He stopped in front of Marcus, but his frightened gaze went straight to you, afraid that he had done something wrong.
Marcus looked at him carefully, towering over the boy. Finally, he spoke.
"Do you know who I am?"
Julius's eyes went to the man's face. He nodded.
"A general. Mom told me." he said quietly. "A soldier. Like my dad."
You saw Marcus give you a quick look, but he couldn't resist asking another question. "Where's your father, boy?"
"At war. Far away." He looked down and shuffled his shoes. "Mom says he's brave."
"And are you brave?"
You covered your mouth with your hand to hold back a sob as Julius shook his head.
"I'm not. Sometimes I'm scared, so then I go to mom."
Marcus crouched down in front of the boy so that their faces were at the same height. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the resemblance between them.
"Where did you get that sword?" Marcus continued.
Julius visibly perked up. "Mom gave it to me. To make me brave."
"Will you show it to me?"
The boy handed him his wooden sword and Marcus looked at it. "It's a very good sword." Julius' face lit up with a smile.
He accepted the sword back from the General and you had the impression that he stood more straight and proud. Marcus looked at him for a moment longer, then ruffled his hair asking him to go back to playing.
"I didn't know what to tell him when he started asking about his father." You started quietly as Marcus watched the boy who had already run after his friends. "I didn't know if you'd ever come back... I wanted to believe it, but he needed answers. That's all I could give him."
"He is..."
"Perfect." You finished for him. "He's smart, empathetic, sensitive and not at all as cowardly as he says. He's afraid of storms, so he comes to me at night."
Marcus turned around looking at you with tenderness. You noticed tears in his eyes and after a moment they ran down your cheeks.
"I wanted him to be safe." You sobbed. "I thought that when you came back and saw him... Every day I saw you in his eyes."
Warm hands grabbed your face as Marcus put his forehead to yours. You placed your hands on his, trying to calm your breathing.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered "I beg you, forgive me for doubting you. I didn't expect this. The thought that you could marry someone else, give him children..."
"How could I do that? I gave my heart to you, Marcus. For eternity."
Warm lips brushed yours.
"You gave me a son. You're so brave. Too good for me... I don’t deserve you and him." he whispered "I'm sorry I doubted you, my love."
"Please, don't talk about it anymore. Just get to know him, and you'll surely love him too."
"But will he love me?" doubt sounded in his voice "Julius doesn't know his father."
You tenderly stroked his face, wanting to erase all worries from him.
"Julius knows his father is brave, strong, and that he loved me more than anything in his life. He will welcome you with open arms, Marcus. Just give yourself a chance. Give us all a chance."
He nodded and snuggled up to you with all his might. When he returned to Rome in glory, his greatest dream was to see you again. And you gave him so much more. You gave him more than the Emperor could.
Ok so someone said Pedro is so husband in Gladiator 2 and I was wondering if you would possibly do a Marcus and pregnant!wife fic?! Please 🤍
Restless
Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator
A/N: This was so fun to write and I hope you like it! Just fyi, this is not a part of my series Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia.
Summary: Being heavily pregnant makes it hard to sleep.
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)
Tags: Pregnant reader, kisses, a general devoted to his wife
Word count: 1k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60543115
Restless
Since entering the final stages of carrying your child, nights in bed have been restless. You lay awake most of the time, drifting off on your side only to wake up not long after with a foot pressing against your ribs. It is a strange paradox how something so unpleasant can offer you comfort at the same time, serving as a reminder that your baby is healthy and strong. You’ll take watching the sunrise each morning if it means knowing that they are well, even if it means exhaustion from the lack of rest.
Tonight is no different. You are yet again caught in the realm of the awake, carefully turning over from side to side as you beg God Somnus to show you mercy and grant you some sleep. However, just as your eyes start to flutter closed, you are startled awake by another swift kick to your insides.
“You are as restless as your father,” you speak quietly and with affection to the life within your belly, pressing your hand over the spot. You glance at Marcus as you say it, already aware of how he is stirring from his slumber because the littlest of things can rouse him. After all, he is a light sleeper, old habits making him as vigilant in bed with you as he is on the battlefield.
“Another night on slumber’s battlefield?” Marcus asks while sleep still clings to him. His voice is rough, rumbling through his chest as he speaks.
You nod with a sigh, reaching for your husband’s hand to guide it to rest on your belly. His voice joining yours has woken up the baby even more, and they seem even more enthusiastic in announcing their presence to their parents, “It seems like your child is preparing for a campaign of their own. Feel.”
“My child?” He asks with a fond smile, another jab at his palm making him gently trace patterns across your belly.
“During nights like these, they’re your child,” you tease lightheartedly and earn a gentle smile, a twinkle in his eyes.
“I suppose that’s fair,” he chuckles quietly but it is interrupted by another spirited kick. He sucks in a breath, talking quietly as if mostly to himself, “Every time I do this… I still can’t believe—“
“Neither can I,” you say dreamily and rest your own hand on top of his. You guide his palm over the curve of your swollen belly, “But they’re really in there. Feel this. Here’s their back and this… this must be the foot that’s keeping me from sleeping.”
Marcus’ calloused palm is warm as it skims across your stomach, feeling its way around to picture the growing bundle inside of you. His eyes are filled with uninhibited wonder, a joy that seems to be more frequent on his face after Goddess Juno granted you this blessing so soon after your union. He shifts on the bed to bend down and kiss where he has just felt a particularly enthusiastic kick.
“Listen to me, little one,” he murmurs softly against your skin, “Your beautiful mother is doing all the work bringing you into the world and into my arms. The least you could do is grant her some rest.”
“I don’t think it’s going to happen. I think they’ve inherited some of your rebellion,” you begin but Marcus looks at your face with feigned outrage. He crawls up to hover over you.
“Their rebellious spirit is directly from you,” he argues with a charming smile, palms flat against the bed on either side of you. In return, you reach up to cup his face and drag him down for a sweet kiss. He smells like olive oil and metal from his armor, proof of him being in the sun all day during today’s training session. He should be exhausted but he kisses you like he isn’t.
“Then you should know how to tame them just like you tamed me, General,” you bite back with a mischievous expression, a high-pitched giggle interrupting your attempt at an attitude because Marcus maneuvers you onto your side again, this time facing away from him. He crawls up behind you, scooping his arm underneath you so he can cradle your full belly with both hands.
“Close your eyes,” he tells you, splaying his hands on you until the warmth of his touch starts to calm everything in your body and mind, “Focus on your breathing. In and out. Slowly like the tide.”
You can feel the gentle change in the room, both Marcus and the baby falling into sync with you as sleep comes knocking for all three of you. He talks in a quiet whisper even on the verge of slumber, his chest rising and falling against your back while your belly mirrors it, “That’s it. You’re safe, my love. My heart, my strength, my guiding light.”
“Tell me about our baby,” you murmur softly, eyelids growing heavy until you capitulate and close them.
“Our baby,” he begins, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “Will be as beautiful as their mother. When they laugh it’ll be with your laugh, and when they smile, everyone will think of you in an instant. Perhaps, they will be granted the courage of Mars. Or perhaps the wisdom of Minerva, a real strategist.”
His hands continue their slow and gentle pattern over your stomach, lulling you even closer to the edge of sleep. You relax further into his embrace, letting his words wash over you as he continues, “And as for me, I hope they will inherit my heart. I hope to pass on my sense of duty and purpose. They’ll be honorable, stand firm, and protect the ones they love.”
“Marcus,” you say without knowing why.
“They will be loved,” he adds as if it is the most true of all, his forehead resting against the back of your head, “Loved beyond comparison, beyond comprehension. By us and even the Gods themselves, and they will never doubt this. They will find it to be as certain as Sol and Nox ensuring each day and night.”
“I like that,” you smile sleepily, barely awake anymore.
“Me too,” you hear him say just before sleep finally claims you, his voice a calming echo that tells you he’s telling the truth.
.
.
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pairing: general marcus acacius x virgin!wife!reader
content warning(s); dual pov, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, period typical misogyny (Ancient Rome), mentions of violence/warfare, mention (1) of sexual violence (not against reader), mentions of pregnancy, attempted bedding ceremony, reader has hair that can be pinned back, steamy kisses, crazy amounts of sexual tension, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, virgin!reader, SOFTTTTT marcus acacius, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh
a/n: this has been living in my head for weeks now, along with every new photo we get of general marcus acacius because of course. this can be read as a prequel to bloodlust, or read entirely on its own. the reader insert is written as the same character in each fic.
this will be part 1 of the wedding night, and part 2 will include smut :)
---
You considered bolting as the sun rose on the morning of your wedding day. Stealing one of the nobleman's horses, putting as many miles as you could between yourself and the General's country house.
But, from what you've heard about the General, there would not be a corner of the earth that he would not find you in.
Your palms were clammy with sweat as the handmaidens pinned your hair back into a style of a bride. You wondered how they couldn't possibly hear the quick, panicky beating of your heart as each moment brought you closer to what you considered a life sentence.
General Marcus Acacius is venerated like a god in Rome, and anywhere else. Men boast about his wartime accomplishments as if they were their own, and ladies whisper about his scarred face like they would a demon within the walls.
So many rumors swirling around the Emperor's most esteemed general.
His hands were permanently stained red with blood, he burns the heads of his enemies in sacrifice to the gods, he kills men with icy calculation, takes women with fiery passion.
You could only imagine what kind of monster was waiting for you at the altar.
---
Marcus was in no good spirits on the day of his wedding, the marriage forced on him almost as much as it was forced on his...
Gods above, his bride.
The idea of having a bride was almost as foreign as you yourself were, since never once had Marcus even considered marrying anyone. With all the bloodshed and near-death experiences, he never exactly considered himself a man that was meant to be a husband. Or a father, for that matter.
Marcus tried not to shudder at the end of the aisle as the chorus began singing, sounding all to close to a death march.
At the sound of the choir, you entered into the wedding hall, for all gods and men to see.
His bride.
The world seemed to be brighter, the flowers bloomed more beautiful, and Marcus' vision turned clearer as you stepped into his sight.
For a moment, he forgot all about the blood of men on his hands. The shame that burdened him was cast off. Maybe he wasn't completely condemned to the Underworld.
The very possibility of you being his bringing him more relief than any wine or fine lady. The possibility of you being in his life was... redeeming. Redefining. Remaking.
One look, and he made a vow, but not to you. To himself.
If any harm were to come to you, he would unleash the fury of the gods upon them. He would protect you to the end of his days. Honor you, and serve you, however you may wish.
---
Fear coated your every nerve as you beheld your soon-to-be husband.
Nothing could have prepared you for just how mighty General Acacius was. Tan, broad, and mighty, dressed in fine white robes similar to yours. His bare hands were strong, made for swinging axes, throwing punches, and taking what he wanted. At the altar, he seemed to be near brooding, speaking his vows quietly, his voice like a roll of thunder.
You managed to keep your voice steady while you spoke your vows, but there was nothing you could do to keep your hands from shaking as the priest brought out the rings.
The general reached for your hand, and you were unable to keep from trembling.
His touch was warm on your skin, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he slid the gold wedding band onto your finger. You found the nerve to meet his brown eyes, finding something utterly unreadable as he held your gaze. Could it be... fondness?
Gods, he was beautiful.
His touch steadied you, though you still exchanged rings with a thundering heart.
"In the sight of Gods and men, you are now Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride, General."
The priest's words echoed in your head.
Husband and Wife.
The general leaned forward, an unspoken question in his warm eyes.
Swallowing, you gave a near imperceptible nod.
For such a harsh man, such a dominating man, his kiss was utterly... soft. Tender. Almost coaxing.
After a moment, he pulled away first, and you could've sworn he lingered, cherishing the air between you... before turned to the cheering wedding party.
In an instant, he changed, switching from the gentle kiss of a lover to a commanding force, a man that drinks in praise like fine wine.
A mighty man, indeed.
---
Marcus tried his best to not feel too wounded that his new wife was completely terrified of him.
He felt the thundering pulse in your hand as he slid that ring on, and he wondered if you saw the wedding band as a chain, a set of shackles. It's all too true for other women in Rome.
You barely spoke to him during the wedding feast, only giving small nods and forced smiles in between sips of wine. He had a good feeling you were resisting the urge to swallow it down in one gulp.
Marcus couldn’t help but study you— at first innocently, taking in the curve of your lips, the shine of your eyes, the polite smile you gave when someone offered congratulations.
Damn his dirty mind. As the night went on, and the celebrations continued beyond what he would’ve liked, he tried, and failed, not to eye your body as a means of distraction from the rowdy feast.
It started with your neck. He traced the slope of it with his eyes, marking every freckle and curve. He prayed to all the gods that you would want him to leave his marks on you.
Downward, he peeked slightly at your breasts whilst cursing himself. Of course, they appeared perfect beneath your wedding stola, and he wondered what manner of sounds you would make when he took them into his hands, into his mouth.
And then… Gods, those hips—
“Time for the bedding ceremony!” Emperor Geta jeered, pulling you from your seat with a firm jerk of your elbow. His eyes were greedy, scheming. “Let us see what is underneath that—“
Your face flushed with either embarrassment or fear or both. And that was all Marcus needed to see.
“There will be no bedding ceremony.”
Marcus lowered his voice to a deep warning, the kind that has sent men running for their lives.
Geta scoffed, still holding to your elbow. “It’s a wedding, Acacius, it’s your wedding. Don’t you want to show off the prize of your latest conquest? Distribute the winnings? Strip down that—“
Marcus stood, towering several inches over Geta’s slimy face. “I said… there will be no bedding ceremony.”
Geta kept his hands on you, and Marcus’s vision tinged with red hot fury.
His voice was a rumble, a threat in itself. “It’s my wedding, is it not? And I say there will be no bedding ceremony.”
People were watching now, the feast gone silent at this standoff.
Marcus knew how to pick his battles, cut his losses. But when staring down Geta, the most powerful man in the empire, he realized that for you, he would pick every single one if it meant he kept you safe.
The moments that passed were crackling, the tension between the two men sucking all the air from the celebratory hall.
Geta saw something in Marcus’s unyielding gaze, something that told him he would not win this fight, and decided the bedding ceremony wasn’t worth the scrutiny.
As the Emperor walked away, Marcus took your hand, and led you to your marriage bed.
—
You couldn’t find the words.
The general nearly trembled in rage on the walk to the bedchambers, but still, he maintained that odd gentleness, holding your hand as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.
Servants opened the grand doors as you entered, showing a large room with a massive four poster bed and elegant tapestries lining the walls—
Then the doors shut. And you were left alone with the legendary, bloodletting general.
And you still couldn’t find the damn words.
You knew what came next. The husband will take what is now his.
In this case, you expected your husband to take you in the same way he took lands for the empire— violently, mercilessly, with the intention of forging new legacy, through a son of Rome.
“Before you ask, my General, I wish to assure you that I am untouched,” you blurted, quoting what your mother taught you to say before you were to be… intimate. “I am pure, though I can only hope to be worthy—“
“Darling wife,” the general said quietly, so different from the commanding force from the feast. He held your hands in his, leaning down and kissing your knuckles in reverence.
You went silent, shocked at the soft fondness in his tone.
He peered at you with curiosity, and almost amusement. “The only thing I wish from you is for you to call me by my name, not title. No general, no lord, but my name. I hear it so little nowadays that I will look forward to hearing it from your lips.”
“As you wish… Marcus,” you breathed, eyes locked on his.
Marcus let out a little sigh, like he was relieved. “It’s much prettier when you say it.”
You drop your head in bashfulness, more confused by the moment. The way he spoke so kindly, so fondly.
“You know what is meant to happen tonight?” Marcus asked, almost hesitantly. You nod, undeniable fear curling in your stomach. “I need you to understand something, my darling, so listen very carefully.”
He pulled you toward the bed, sitting you both down on the silken sheets. His eyes on yours were discerning, and intent, like he was searching for something within your stare.
“I will never, ever, force myself upon you. Not in this life, or the next, or the next. I know what you might’ve heard about me, and much of it is true, but never would I take a woman without her permission. You belong to yourself, and if you never should like me in your bed, I will honor that to the end of my days."
You blinked at him in confusion. "So, you do not... you do not want me?"
Marcus exhaled sharply, looking down at your intwined hands. "That... that does not matter."
"Why not? A husband has the right to take what is his--"
"No man has any right to take a woman's body for himself, husband or not. What... what do you think is to happen tonight?"
Heat rises to your face, embarrassed at the question. By the look on his face, he was embarrassed, too.
"I don't... I don't know how it works, but some of the other wives at court say that the consummation of marriage is one of the more... painful duties of a wife. What you are meant to do to me... it's painful," you murmured, and quickly begin stammering. "B-but is it a great honor to serve you, my--"
"May I kiss you, darling?"
Some candles had been left burning, illuminating him in a warm glow. Marcus's eyes were soft, a rich, chocolate brown in the light of your bedroom, and something about them made your core flutter like one of the candles.
"Yes... yes, please."
Marcus smiled softly, and moved his hands to the sides of your neck. They were scarred, and calloused... and so warm.
His lips met yours almost hesitantly, like he was holding himself back. They were tender, tasting of sweet wine. Fingers curled lightly into your pinned hair, pulling you closer as his chest pressed against yours.
You moved your mouth with his, suddenly feeling the need for... more. You didn't know what, but you just knew you needed it.
His tongue slipped against yours, and the groan that left his throat left your pussy throbbing.
"Marcus--" you gasped, losing your breath as his lips traveled down to your neck. You could've sworn he moaned in response, sucking at your pulse point, leaving it a delicious shade of red--
"Do you want me to keep going?" He gruffed, trailing light kisses along your throat.
Oh, gods, how you wanted him to. "Yes, but..."
Marcus withdrew instantly at your seemed hesitation, pulling his mouth away but keeping his hands in your hair.
"I'm fearful," you admitted, holding his tunic to keep your hands from shaking with both desire and nerves. "Not of you, but... the rest of it."
Marcus nodded, swallowing. "We could continue kissing, if you like."
You laughed lightly, the nerves mellowing for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm prepared to have you in that way, but I know that I want to. I know that I... I want you."
Marcus's soft eyes shone with fondness, but had a wicked edge to them, like he was plotting something.
"I know I want you as well, darling. I promise, I will make sure you are prepared to have me... perhaps even over-prepared."
Your brows furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?"
A Perfect Score | Series Masterlist | FigureSkating!AU | modern!Aemond x reader
Summary: Striving for a place in the Olympics, Aemond desperately needs to find another partner to step in when his becomes injured. With little experience in couples figure skating as well as Aemond’s closed-off and antisocial nature, it will be a challenge to work with him.
Warnings: some angst, competitiveness, toxic parenting, smut, NSFW 18+
Chapter 1: Ice Cold
Chapter 2: Sub-Zero (coming soon)
APS Taglist (comment if you would like to be added/taken off!/ Bold means I couldn’t tag)
