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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 9 days ago

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HAAAAAAAAA thank you my baby, you’re so sweet I’m gonna cry and blush so hard 😭🥹

I’m so glad you liked this and you saw all the details I put in there 🥰

I love you so much 😭

And huh huh… throbbing 😏 good 😏

Pairing: Modern!Marcus Acacius x Curvy!f!reader Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW Words count: 7135 Summary: Moving to Rome for work brings you to meet an unexpected next door neighbor. Tags: AU, modern setting, smut, neighbor!Marcus, curvy reader, 69, squirting, a lot of praise (Marcus is stunned by your curvy body, as he should!), use of a sex toy, Marcus is a gentleman but quite freaky in the bedroom (and I love that for him 😌), reader takes no shit, she is explicitly described as curvy but no mention of skin tone or hair, she understands Italian, use of Italian (translation in brackets) , Marcus can speak Italian, unprotected p in v and I didn't mention protection (this is not reality and no one gets pregnant in my fics, please do better IRL and use protection), cream pie, Marcus has a huge cock (of course, I mean, have seen him?) nipple play, swearing, pet names, dirty talk, mention of a lot Italian things, a lot of self indulgent stuff, no mention of age, they're both grown up adults anyway (30 something in my head), let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @mushgloomz PPCU Smut Writing Challenge 2025, Kia assigned me this prompt that I loved very much, I'm sorry that it took me so long to write this but here we are. I hope it's decent, I haven't published something in ages and I'm very nervous to share this 🥺 - Thanks so much to @aurorawritestoescape for being my precious beta, your help is such a comfort to me ❤️ (Any mistake is still on me!!! English is not my first language- Italian is) - Thanks to the lovely @thedilfdiaries for reading through this and always being such a sweetie pie 🥰 - Thanks to @baronessvonglitter that made the mood board that you can see at the end for me. My idea has changed over time but she did a beautiful job and I absolutely wanted to share it anyway. Love you all so much 🥹 As always, comments and reblog are appreciated, I really hope you'll like it!

Masterlist

Rome wakes up outside your window to an indistinct hubbub, vans unloading goods, horns, people walking to the metro stop.

Rome is noisy, elegantly antique, a placid lady stretched out on a territory that extends more and more in a swarm of alleys, neighborhoods, suburbs, open-air works of art that arise in the midst of traffic, cars that move like in a crazy pinball machine.

Rome is made of contrasts.

Piss in the alleys and luxury buildings.

Garbage trucks creaking on the cobblestones and unesco heritage sites.

Rome is chaos and wonder, a place where ancient and modern collide and coexist a few steps away from each other.

When you decided to study cultural heritage restoration, it was at the top of your list of places you wanted to visit.

You roll over in bed as a timid ray of sunlight hits you, you hide your face in the pillow, basking in its comfort for a few minutes, before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

You take out the moka pot that your Italian colleague gave you a few days after you arrived here. “You’re staying here for a while, you’ll see that you need it” he told you. And you did.

You needed it like oxygen now.

The moka sputters on the stove like a symphony that promises to bring you back to life.

You pour some of it into a little cup and a few moments later the hot drink slides down your throat, reawakening your numb synapses.

After a quick breakfast and a shower you leave the house, ready to dive into this bustling hive you now call home.

_________________

It's late in the evening when you get home and while you're rummaging in your bag looking for your keys, your neighbor comes out onto the landing with a woman.

A very attractive woman, actually. Curly hair, gorgeous eyes and a booty that can stop traffic.

He says “Buonasera” (good evening) in a low voice before disappearing down the stairs with her.

You roll your eyes as you enter the house, wondering if he'll ever ask you out again.

Marcus lives right next door to you and your history with him has been messy since day one.

__________________

You arrived with a huge suitcase and literally bumped into him as you were trying to drag the goddamn thing up the few steps, leading to the entrance of the building.

He grunted, held you up for a split second in a strong grip to try to prevent you from falling down ruinously and helped you carry your suitcase to the elevator.

You immediately noticed his strong forearms peeking out from his rolled-up shirt sleeves as he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you standing.

You fancied him right away, he was handsome beyond measure.

Tall, attractive man, sporting the most gorgeous brown eyes you’d ever seen, salt and pepper curls so luscious all you wanted was to tangle your fingers through them and a body to die for, muscular in all the right places, strong neck and broad shoulders. He made your mouth water.

And he was kind, always had been.

He exuded a sense of security and the way he carried himself with so much confidence was extremely charming.

He asked you out about two weeks later. You thought you had a nice evening; he took you to see the Colosseum, smiled at you while you babbled on about everything you knew about it, amazed at the sight of the monument you had wanted to see all your life, and too nervous around him to just keep quiet.

You had dinner together, talked a lot, and laughed. Everything was perfect until you got home.

______________

You move down the hallway barefoot testing the coolness of the tiles under your feet and you head to your bedroom.

The sun is still high even though it’s seven in the evening, which puts you in a good mood, it feels like the day hasn’t been lost yet.

You jump in the shower to wash away the smell of the restoration products that still linger in your nostrils.

As you rub yourself thoroughly with coconut body wash, you think back to the fact that Marcus didn't kiss you that night.

He said goodnight and headed away, muttering that he'd like to see you again. Two months had passed since then.

No other invitation followed the first.

Sitting on the bed in your bathrobe, you curse yourself for thinking about him.

When you first decided to move here, you considered the amazing food, landscape, art history, the fact that you would have come up against a not so pleasant language barrier.

You hadn't thought about the fact that you might meet someone.

Well, you did, but certainly not someone like Marcus.

And now you’re quite sure he won’t ask you out again because of the nice lady you’ve seen with him.

Fuck.

Your stomach rumbles noisily.

You go to the kitchen and open the fridge only to find it empty.

There is a sad parmesan crust looking at you from the shelf in the center which makes you think you’re failing Italian cuisine big time.

You go back to the room and call Francesca, one of your colleagues.

She answers you after a few seconds and you hear noises in the background, it sounds like she's somewhere public.

You ask what she’s doing and whine about having nothing to eat and she simply replies “metti il tuo bel culo su un taxi e fatti portare a Campo dei Fiori, ci penso io a te” (Get your nice ass in a taxi and go to Campo dei Fiori, I'll take care of you).

You join her and her friends at a restaurant with outdoor tables and enjoy a pleasant evening filled with laughter, jokes, insights into Roman cuisine, an exquisite cacio e pepe and way too much wine.

Definitely a mistake. When you drink too much, your tongue moves faster than your brain, and before you know it, you find yourself talking about your attractive neighbor.

Francesca obviously encourages you to ask him out yourself. “Che ti frega?! Fallo. Non hai niente da perdere! Se davvero ha una relazione con quella ragazza ti dirà di no” (What’s stopping you?! Go for it! You've got nothing to lose! If he really has a relationship with that girl he’ll tell you ‘no’.)

“Unless he’s a piece of shit,” you try to say but it doesn’t feel like you have any power over her enthusiasm.

She’s always like that, cheering you up, joking around, while she does the most important and delicate restoration work on a painting, keeping her hand super firm, having your back and helping you out every time she can.

You have to admit that she's not entirely wrong.

Marcus told you he was an actor.

He was mostly focused on theater, but he had been offered a role in an Italian series set in Ancient Rome, the pay was good and the script was interesting.

The end of his marriage and not having to provide for any children had given him the final push to change his life.

Who knew how many women were pursuing him, gorgeous actresses who had the opportunity to film scenes with him all day long.

He had undoubtedly found someone else he liked better, which was why he no longer paid attention to you.

You are mulling it over in your head the whole way home, barely listening to the taxi driver who keeps talking to you.

Francesca wouldn't listen to reason, and her friends agreed with her. At least you would have cleared up your doubts once and for all and been able to move on.

You undress, remove your makeup, and as you’re putting on the oversized T-shirt you wear to sleep, you wonder if he's already home. It's quite late. Sitting on the bed, applying your hand cream, you strain your ears to hear any noise coming from his house.

You hear nothing.

You fall into a deep sleep, still a little tipsy from the wine, hugging your pillow.

____________________________

Two nights later, when you return home, you head to the mailboxes in the lobby to check if a package you ordered has arrived.

The boxes are all lined up against the wall, and packages are usually left in a larger niche to the side of them.

You're rummaging through the boxes looking for yours when you hear steps on the marble floor and a voice behind you.

“You won't find it in there.”

You turn around in surprise and see Marcus standing there with a smirk on his face.

“How do you know?”

“This morning when I was leaving, I ran into a delivery guy, and he asked me about you because he needed a signature for the delivery. So I signed it for you. I have your package.”

You're stunned. The neighbor you have a crush on signed for your new wand.

You didn't even ask for anonymous delivery so that no one would know what was inside.

Your relatives are not here, so you didn’t need to care, right?

Wrong.

“You couldn't have left it in the mailbox?”

“Actually, yes, but I decided to bring it inside for privacy,” he chuckles.

“I don't think that's any of your business,” you stare at him, raising your eyebrow.

Damn, this guy is unbelievable. He hasn’t paid you any attention for two months and then suddenly decides he cares about your reputation?

“Sorry, I just didn't want Mrs. Rossi to see it. She's the worst gossip in the neighborhood.”

Marcus shrugs his shoulders with an innocent smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, okay. Can you give it to me now, or do you think I have to get down on my knees and beg you?”

“Well…It doesn't seem like a bad idea.”

Again, he’s all smirks and lustful looks, but when it comes to facts? Nothing to register.

You never know if he's being cheeky on purpose or if that's just how he was designed, and he doesn't even realize it.

This man seems to have been created to make you yearn as long as you remain on Italian land and beyond.

You roll your eyes, “Oh my God, can’t you just give me the damn box and cut this bullshit, please?”

“Okay,” he grinned. “After you” and he gestures at the elevator.

You make the whole ride with your heart beating like a drum in your chest and your head so light you could swear you’re about to lose your sanity.

Growing up in a thick body made you used to people giving unrequited advice and pitiful comments, you learned to shake them off your shoulders.

However, the fact that he unexpectedly gleaned such a private part of you has made you feel vulnerable and you do feel nervous around him.

Besides he hasn’t made it clear what he wants yet and he looks like the most seraphic person while doing it.

Once you are in front of his door he enters his apartment and you wait on the landing, fidgeting with your keys, breathing deeply, trying to regain your control.

“Here you go” he says, handing you your box.

Fucking finally.

“Well…have fun I guess” he adds while you’re opening your door.

You turn around, decide you’re done with this infinite teasing that leads to nothing and finally find the gut to speak.

“Just so I know, do you want to continue this charade forever?”

Marcus remains speechless for a moment. He wasn’t expecting that from you and you’re glad.

“What charade?” He seems confused and a certain irritation starts building in your core.

“Oh, I don’t know, what about us going on a date and then you never asking me out again? And look, I would be fine with that, but what about today? Why did you even care to sign for me? And why are you all of a sudden so worried about my reputation among the old ladies in this damn building? I don’t know any of them, plus I doubt they’re remotely familiar with the internet and what this box contains…so what’s your motive? You want to be noticed? You want to ask me out again?” You say it all in one breath, while his mouth unconsciously parts and his eyes widen.

“Fuck, you have an attitude..Yeah, I mean…no, I would love to go on another date with you.” He babbles and your pride is growing strong.

“Ok, Friday at 8. Knock on my door,” you grant, mastering your most unfazed tone.

“I will,” he croaks, before watching you close your door after giving him a wink.

You’ve done it.

You secured another date.

All thanks to your new wand.

You will definitely put this bad boy to good use tonight.

____________

By the end of the week you’re so worked up you’re counting the hours to your date.

Work helps you to dissociate from the horny little monster that lives inside you, restoration requires you to be focused, you certainly can’t screw up the Caravaggio you’re working on.

It's one of the finest work of art you've ever seen and you’re so proud that they trust your abilities enough to assign it to you.

You love Caravaggio.

Repairing those signs of aging in the painting makes you feel secure, in control of the situation and, by extension, of your life.

Francesca is another great help. She hasn't stopped cheering you up, telling you that if he hasn't jumped on you yet, it's only a matter of time. She distracts you with her chatter about a guy she's dating, a new restaurant she discovered, and a beautiful sweater she bought at a bargain price at the flea market in Porta di Roma.

You love her duality, the way she approaches restoration with such care and delicacy, in contrast to her exuberant, chaotic, and boisterous personality.

You are grateful that she is here for you.

Friday evening arrives tragically slowly, yet filled with so many expectations.

You haven't seen Marcus all week, there have only been a few messages saying that production was running late and he had been forced to stay on set longer than expected.

“Anyway, at 8 o'clock on Friday, when you hear a knock at the door, it'll be me.”

And you replied, “I can’t wait”.

Fortunately, Marcus is a man who keeps his promises.

When you open the door, you are delighted by his broad shoulders enveloped in a nice jean jacket and a white t-shirt underneath, filling the doorway. His smile spreads beneath his perfectly trimmed mustache, lighting up his face.

“Well…look at you. Beautiful,” he whispers, and it sounds like honey to your ears.

He looks down at you with amazement, observing the body that took you a lifetime to love, making you feel as if the wide hips and your soft belly are your greatest assets and not something you need to hide.

You’re glad you dared to put a silky dress on, that is hugging your curves just right, shiny material enlightening your skin and making you feel like a mermaid.

Embracing your body took you years but it’s the best thing you’ve done besides curating your education.

_____________

You’re walking down the street side by side along the Tiber as it flows gently in its bed like a placid, sleepy snake and you feel like a magnet he can't escape.

His searching eyes look at you, studying your face as if trying to read your mind.

“Where are we going? Will you tell me this time?”

He smirks, “Okay. We've already been to a fancy restaurant, so I thought it was time for a real Roman experience. Do you think you're ready?”

“Sure,” you nod, “I love authenticity.”

“Well, then you'll love where I'm taking you.”

When you arrive, Francesca's words ring loud and clear in your head:

“If the restaurant looks like it's been there for a hundred years, you can be sure you'll eat the best Italian food of your life.”

Now you understand exactly what she meant. The tavern you have entered has a faded sign and is furnished with straw chairs, wooden tables, and antique display cabinets. The furniture is simple, solid, and functional, just like it used to be.

No waiters in uniforms, just a big man in a wrinkled, grease-stained apron who welcomes Marcus as if he were his son, patting him heavily on the shoulder and saying,

“Oh Marcus, bentornato! Ti dò il solito tavolo?” (Oh, Marcus, welcome back! Shall I give you your usual table?).

“Sì, grazie Vittorio” (Yes, Vittorio, thank you).

You sit at a small table in a corner, surrounded by other people talking loudly and pouring wine into glasses, in front of plates containing the most generous portions of pasta you have ever seen.

The walls are decorated with paintings in the Arte Povera style, everyday objects such as funnels and old tools, next to your table there’s something that looks like a wooden cart wheel.

Scattered around are old black and white photos, signed.

Marcus watches you as you look around curiously.

“Does the waiter know you?”

“I've been here often with the rest of the crew. You know that girl you saw last week? She’s my scene partner and she’s Vittorio’s nephew.”

“Oh, I see.”

In a way, he brought you to a place where he feels most comfortable, and you find that adorable.

But then you wonder about her. Is she more than a scene partner? Has he ever kissed her?

Her uncle didn't say anything strange to Marcus, you understand Italian well enough to be sure. That's assuming he knows, which he may not.

You feel a little stupid for asking him out without making sure she wasn't his girlfriend, but after all, you're here now, you're just having dinner, and there's no harm done. You're still on a friend territory, even if it's the last place you want to be.

“Do you like it?“ he asks almost shyly.

“Of course I do” you exclaim, “it's awesome! My colleague took me to similar places here in Trastevere, but this one is truly one of a kind.”

The buzz bounces off the walls like a swarm of crazy bees. You can't hear a single thought in your head, but it's all too much fun. Especially the way the big man takes your orders, commenting on your beauty, winking at Marcus, laughing cheerfully as he encourages you to speak Italian. He's loud and friendly, like the rest of the place around him.

He returns after a few minutes with a carafe of house wine and a basket of warm, fragrant bread that fills your nostrils in the most delicious way.

You and Marcus laugh a lot, chat about your week, and finish your pasta dishes quickly. You're not drunk, but you definitely feel intoxicated by him.

When he looks at you with those brown eyes, you feel like you're swimming in them, like in a lustful, sweet chocolate fountain.

“Who are all these people?” you ask, trying to shake yourself out of your stupor, gesturing at the photos hanging on the walls.

“Famous Italian actors, mostly. That's Marcello Mastroianni, have you ever seen La Dolce Vita?”

“I'm afraid not. Is that bad?”

“I forgive you. It just means that one day you'll have to watch it with me.”

His voice is low and confident and reaches you clearly despite the noise. Too clearly, even, the warmth in your chest intensifies.

His hand moves slightly over the table like he was about to take yours when you are interrupted by Vittorio bringing the bill, and Marcus insists on paying despite your protests.

____________________

You walk across a bridge over the Tiber, gazing at Marcus’ face illuminated by the streetlights.

You’re longing to feel his hand on you, so bad that you can’t even concentrate on what he’s saying right now, you just keep nodding mindlessly until you decide to let out what's been boiling inside you for a week.

The air is cool, and Marcus offers you his jacket.

You put it on and find yourself surrounded by the warmth of his body that still lingers on the fabric.

“So, do you think we should keep seeing each other?” you prod.

“Of course. Why not? Aren't you having a great time with me?”

He's so confident that you almost feel bad objecting, “Well, I do, but...”

“But what?”

“What about the other girl? Vittorio’s nephew?” you say, mindlessly crossing your arms around your body, shrugging in the cool air, with a slight undertone of resentment that you weren’t supposed to leave out.

He laughs so hard, as if you had just said something absolutely ridiculous, gets in front of you and gently takes your chin in his hand making you look at him.

“Hey. I am not in a relationship with her. I’m not her type.”

“And why is that?” you ask suspiciously, waiting.

Marcus leans toward you and whispers in your ear, “She likes girls.”

The realization hits you hard.

He exhales sharply and then his dimple is there, on his cheek, as he sweetly smiles at you.

“Well, anyway, you didn't kiss me that night, and I know I hesitated on purpose at my door. And you didn't do it tonight either.”

“I was just trying to be respectful,” he simply retorts.

“Or maybe… you don’t like me that way.”

Marcus laughs again, a hearty, slightly hoarse laugh.

“I like you a lot. Your smile, your voice, your personality, your attitude and your gorgeous body. I like everything about you” He takes your hands, makes you stretch your arms out along your sides, and moves closer.

“Okay then, good guy, go ahead and prove it,” you challenge him, raising an eyebrow.

He wraps his arms around your waist, and pulls you toward him.

And there, in the middle of the bridge, with people walking and admiring Rome at night all around you, he kisses you.

And it’s a kiss you’ll surely never forget. It's hot and intense, his tongue pushes to get in, eagerly licks inside your mouth, searches for yours.

His hands slowly slide on your hips, while you wrap yours around his neck and cock your head to give him easier access.

You don't know how long it takes before you pull away, but you're out of breath. “Hey, that wasn't a nice guy kiss,” you whisper against his lips.

“I can do even better if you let me,” he tempts you.

“Take me home, then.”

_____________________________

As soon as you arrive, Marcus is all over you.

He kisses your neck, while you’re looking for your keys, hugging you from behind, his breath heavy on your skin.

As soon as you close the door, he takes the keys from your hands and throws them onto the cabinet in the hallway, followed immediately by your bag.

He pins you against the wall, taking your lips again, playing with your tongue.

Your hands run along the expanse of his chest, itching to touch his hot skin underneath.

He goes back down to your pulse point, whispering, “You smell so good,” leaving a trail of kisses along your neck, while his hands wander over your body, caressing everything they can.

“Are you still convinced I don't like you?“ his voice is husky and hoarse.

“Mmm, I might need more proof, you know, just to be sure,” you joke, getting rid of his jean jacket.

His arms encircle your waist, his hands slide to your hips, then to your butt, wringing there.

You whine in his mouth.

Marcus breaks away and asks you, “Where's your bedroom?”

“End of the hallway,” you breathe.

He takes you by the hand and drags you toward the room while you giggle at his eagerness.

He stops in front of your bed, taking your face in his hands and whispering,

“You're so beautiful. I was such an idiot for not letting you know how much I like you sooner. Let me make it up to you.”

He pulls off your dress, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you covered only by your red lace lingerie.

You shiver for a moment, almost naked in front of him, before meeting his gaze again, which admires you like a painting.

He kisses you as your hands wrap around his still clothed broad shoulders, and his hand slides down your side, over your hipbone, slowly to the edge of your panties.

“I like this color on you, the contrast with your skin, so soft and sweet.”

You're spellbound. By him, by his deep, husky voice, by the way his hands move over you, lingering on every curve, as if they had to memorize every inch of your body.

He brings his hand to your face again, his knuckles slide down your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your mouth and you open it, wrapping your lips around it and gently sucking the tip, while his other hand is on your soft hip, clinging, squeezing, filled with your flesh.

You look intently into his eyes as you softly warm his thumb between your lips.

Marcus smirks and groans, “you’re so good.”

He works his way into your panties, his warm touch making you gasp as he slithers further and further down.

His fingers brush against your folds, just grazing them, trapped in your panties.

“Mh, you’re wet, baby” he whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, I am”

“I think we can do better than this, don’t you think?”

“Show me,” you challenge him, already worked up just by his voice.

He could make you come just by his goddamn voice whispering tantalizingly in your ears.

“Sit on the bed for me,” he orders.

You sit down, crossing your legs, running a hand over your bedspread.

He takes off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and you are stunned.

His chest is even broader than it appears when he is dressed. Small freckles are scattered across his lightly tanned skin, some lost among the few hairs on his chest near his dark pink nipples, on his slightly soft belly, on the line of hair below his navel.

He looks like a Greek statue. A work of Michelangelo.

The most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

He unbuttons his jeans, never taking his eyes off you. He hasn’t touched you yet, but a warmth begins to spread from the pit of your stomach.

When he steps out of his jeans and your gaze drinks in his hips, so narrow in comparison to his shoulders, his strong, toned thighs and his tight boxers that definitely cover something big, he smiles mischievously, teasing you, “Do you like what you see?”

You bite your lower lip, unable to take your eyes off him, and whisper, “Definitely.”

“That toy you bought, where is it?”

“In my nightstand drawer, why?”

He doesn’t answer, he opens the drawer and pulls out your new wand.

He swings it between his fingers, a coy smile on his face

“Cute. Does it work?”

You feel your face heat up as you silently nod.

He approaches you, caresses your back, reaching your bra and expertly unhooking it with just one hand, then throwing it into a corner.

He gently lays you down on the bed and climbs on top of you.

He is kneeling over you, not touching you yet, his thighs on either side of your hips, the wand lying on the sheets next to him.

“God, you're beautiful,” he says, looking down at you, lingering on your lips, your breasts, your hard nipples, your panties that barely cover your sex.

He leans over you, stretching out his legs.

His mouth is on yours in an instant, devouring you, while his hand flies to your breast and starts kneading it.

His body is warm, gently pressing you down, making you sink slightly into the mattress. He takes your nipple between his fingers, twisting and pinching it while sucking the delicate skin of your neck.

His erection begins to press against your panties, and you can clearly feel the dampness despite the two layers of fabric still separating you.

Marcus pushes one knee between your thighs, silently asking you to spread them wider. He lifts his leg and his knee goes straight to your clit, applying gentle pressure that makes you see stars.

You moan, instinctively rocking your hips to search for more friction.

You cling to his back, your nails digging slightly into his skin, leaving small crescents.

Marcus grunts, his mouth lowers to your chest, licks your skin, while his hand cups your breast and after a moment his tongue arrives exactly where you want it, without you even asking. This guy knows what he's doing, even better than you could have hoped, and he loves your body in an insatiable way, judging by the way his hands squeeze and caress you and the way his mouth closes over your nipple, wrapping it with his lips, then sucking.

Your hand sinks into his soft curls, you moan and hold him close to your breast. “Don't stop.”

“I won't, sweetheart. Your tits are incredible, I could do this for hours.”

His tongue slides gently over your hard nub, flicking it.

He takes the wand with his other hand, the quiet buzz of the toy gets closer and closer until you feel it vibrating on your nipple on the lower setting.

It’s insane.

The combined action of the sex toy and his mouth is almost too much to bear.

You’re soaked, babbling, your back tense like a violin string.

He turns off the wand after a few seconds, making you moan at the loss.

“So you thought I didn't like you? You thought I didn't want every inch of this body? Baby, my mission tonight is to get that idea out of your head.” He whispers against your breast, moving the air over your nipple, a breath that makes you arch your back again.

Three big fingers move over your panties, caressing you through the fabric, which is now so wet that it's practically useless.

He teases you, brushing your clit, lingering on the slit of your folds with his fingertips, poking into your hole.

“More” you whine. “Please”

Your eyes, half-closed and clouded with desire, are reflected in his chestnut brown, deep and expressive ones.

They are intense and magnetic, adorned with small wrinkles, which you trace with your fingertips, descending down his cheek, feeling every curve of his face, until they cling to his strong jaw, and your thumb pulls his lower lip, revealing his pearly white teeth. His mouth curves into a smile as he hears you beg again, “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg, baby” he mutters.

Your thighs are still tight around his leg, you're still absent-mindedly rocking your hips against his hand, dripping through the fabric.

He removes his hand and brings it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he slides his fingers between his lips, over his tongue, tasting your juices. He opens his eyes and a look of lust shines through them. “Delicious. I need more.”

He moves to pull down your panties, caressing your legs down to your ankles.

He squeezes your lacy underwear in his fist, smells them, spreads them out, his tongue sticking out to lick the wet spot right in the middle.

And then he looks at your pussy, exposed, begging, crying for him.

He licks his lips before asking,

“Can you do something for me, sweetheart?”

You nod insistently.

“Use your words, pretty girl, I know you can.”

“Yes,” you breathe, “yes, whatever.”

He smirks, brushing your ankle. “Okay, then sit on my face. I need to eat you out.”

You glance at his powerful erection in his pants and your little horny monster takes over your brain, pushing you to say, “Um... I think I have a better idea.”

He squints at you “Oh, really? Tell me what's in that pretty head of yours.”

His fingers run over your legs as he waits. You sigh, feeling your cheeks burn with excitement. “Well, we could...you could eat me while I eat you.”

He looks at you pleasantly surprised. “Oh. You're dirtier than I thought, I like that.”

You giggle nervously. “Maybe I am.”

“Mmm, I think you are. So you want this cock in your sweet mouth, huh? All right, princess, as you wish,” he grants, running a hand over his scruff.

The moment you take off his boxers is when you stop giggling and start thinking that maybe you overestimated your abilities.

It's big. Thick, already fully hard in front of your eyes, small drops of pre-cum glisten on the tip, a long pulsating vein runs over it. It's a huge cock.

Probably the biggest you've ever seen.

Your mind decides that it doesn't matter whether it fits in your mouth or not, it was decided for you, it's like an out-of-body experience where you hear yourself murmuring

“Fuck, please. I want it.”

You move instinctively as he lies down on the bed and urges you, “Come sit on top of me, princess.” You turn your back to him, straddling him, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. He grabs your hips, sliding you onto his chest, leaving a wet trail on his skin, the friction further stimulating your throbbing clit.

You cling to his legs, moaning. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, come here, show me that beautiful dripping pussy.”

His fingers sink into your flesh, pushing you down, and suddenly an intrusive thought strikes you.

“Am I weighing you down?”

Marcus laughs heartily, sending a vibration through your entire body and straight to your clit.

"Babe, are you kidding? I was made for someone like you.”

Marcus tightens his grip even more and pulls you toward him until his mouth slams against your pussy.

He licks a long stripe starting from the bottom and moving up to your clitoris, sinking his tongue between your folds.

“And you taste so good, you have no idea, it’s the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.”

Your cheek is resting against his cock as you’re trying to catch all the air you can, his hair tickling your chin as you feel it throbbing against your skin.

You take it in one hand, barely able to wrap your fingers around it, and lower your lips onto its tip, while Marcus's tongue continues to move across your slit, from side to side, deliberately avoiding your clit and stimulating everything around it. You're so wet that another touch on your bundle of nerves could send you over the edge.

You're trying to hold yourself back with all your strength because you really want his cock in your mouth. It's too tempting not to try. And Marcus is praising you so much that you want to give him something back at any cost.

You lower your mouth onto the tip, immediately tasting its bitter, slightly musky flavor, feeling a new wave of pleasure trickle out of your pussy.

It's thick and overwhelming between your lips, slapping against the inside of your cheek as you try to wrap your mouth around it as much as you can.

Marcus groans into your folds, his tongue thrusting deeper, nudging at your entrance.

“Take your time, you’re doing good. I know it’s too big for you to take it all in your mouth so fast.”

You let him out with a lewd pop.

“No, it’s okay, I want it, Marcus. I want it so bad”

You lower yourself again, sliding down even further, relaxing your jaw as much as you can to take him all the way down your throat, cupping one of his balls with one hand and gently squeezing.

“Jesus, babe, you’re fucking incredible,” he grunts.

You suppress a gag, holding it there, caressing the rest with your hand wrapped around the base. It's heavy on your tongue, you can distinctly feel its vein tickling your cheek, its taste spreading and clouding your mind.

Marcus parts your folds with two fingers, his tongue relentlessly drinking from you, every drop of pleasure dripping out, his mustache, soaked in your juices, pleasantly tingles your skin.

You focus on the tip, swirling your tongue around it, closing your lips over it and sucking.

Your hand moves up and down its length, its velvety skin thin beneath your touch, the room silent except for the sounds of your mouths exploring each other's most intimate parts.

Marcus' lips close around your clit as he starts to suck gently, while two fingers slide over your folds to wet them, and when you moan against his cock, he enters you.

He slowly stretches you, sinking into your wetness little by little, until another wave of pleasure trickles down to his wrist. The vibrations of your moans are getting the better of him as you glide your tongue over his length, from the base to the top, swirling it again and again on the tip and letting it fall back on the underside. Then, and only then, when he feels you so close to the edge that you could explode at any moment he curves his fingers, reaching that special spot that makes you see stars.

He turns on the wand again and moves it over your clit, his fingers curling just right, tapping the spot where you most need them.

He alternates the wand with his mouth, eagerly sucking your nub between his lips.

“You like that, huh? Yes, baby, you’re so good. Come for me, pretty, show me this beautiful pussy gushing for me. Let her writhe in my mouth, I want everything, baby, every drop of this goddess nectar.”

The wand’s buzz stops.

And so, you burst.

An unquenchable fire spreads through your body, up to your chest, you can't breathe and you feel every inch of yourself trembling on Marcus' hot, sweaty body. Your nipples rub against his stomach as you convulse and moan.

You feel pressure in your lower belly, a sensation you've never felt before, and a gush of pleasure sprays from your center straight into Marcus' face. He doesn't pull back, instead he’s moaning in surprise, and continues to lick, taste, and suck every inch of your pussy like a man starved.

You don't have time to feel self-conscious as you hear Marcus' voice calling your attention. “Honey, come here, I need to feel you on my cock.”

You're overstimulated, exhausted, yet you can't say no to him. Not when he asks you with that hoarse, deep, incredibly sensual voice. “I need to see you bouncing on my cock.”

You turn around, straddling him again, his face a plea for more pleasure, his chin, mustache, and beard glistening with your juices.

His eyes are even darker, thirsty, ravaged by lust.

He grabs your hips again, pulling you down onto his cock, and you take it in one hand, guiding it towards your entrance. It enters slowly, even though you've never been so wet, inch by inch. You lower yourself slightly onto him, resting your hands on the sides of the mattress, and Marcus wastes no time, one hand flying to your breast, pinching your nipple. When you finally manage to take him all inside you, a moan escapes from the back of your throat, so rough that it doesn't even sound like your voice.

“Fuck, I’ve never felt so full.”

“I know, baby, you’re doing so good for me, taking my cock so well. ”

He kneads at your tit, his mouth agape, while you are balancing on the verge of delirium.

He feels huge inside of you, you don't even know how it fitted but it's still the most delicious pain you've ever experienced.

You carefully begin to move your hips as soon as the pain eases up while Marcus continues to praise you, “Yeah, honey, just like that, you’re perfect for me.”

His grip is solid on your hip, his gorgeous curls scattered around your pillow, you put your hands on his chest which is rising and falling in long, deep breaths.

“I know you can give me another one, right? Come on, baby, rock these gorgeous hips for me, sink into me, come on. ”

It’s just incoherent babbling at this point but it’s hot nonetheless, and you do as he asks, arching your body a little more, moving harder, reaching this special spot again.

With every kiss of his tip against it you moan deeper and rougher, groping his chest with all you have, your fingers mindlessly brushing over his nipples.

With every clench of your pussy his eyes turn more blown and glossy, his voice just a hoarse rasp mixed with the squelching sounds of his stiff cock slamming into you.

You won’t stop.

You can’t stop.

No matter how aching you are already, no matter how exhausted you feel, Marcus’ voice is there praising and urging you— “more baby, come on, I know you’re close, I can feel it.”

With your last shred of strength you clench even harder on his cock, and a moment later a hot long streak of cum is filling you to the brim.

Marcus lets out a deep ‘fuck’, arching his back, gripping onto the sheets underneath him, thrusting into you a couple more times before collapsing on the mattress.

You lie down on top of him, gasping for breath, taking his lips in a long, desperate kiss before burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing against his sweaty skin.

“Jesus, fuck,” you whimper.

Marcus wraps his arms around your middle, gently cradling you against his body.

He’s still inside you as your pussy slowly relaxes and he covers your shoulders with kisses.

As he pulls out and you lay beside him, snuggling against his body, one leg loosely resting over his, you feel a trickle of his seed dripping from your slit and running along your inner thigh.

As soon as you regain some clarity, you press your forehead against his sighing,

“God, probably the best fuck of my life.”

Marcus laughs and kisses your lips softly.

“I hope it's the first of many, princess.”

You giggle, kissing him again and again until you fall asleep in his arms.

It’s morning when you wake up.

For a moment, you don't understand where the warmth you feel is coming from. You blink a couple of times to focus your blurred vision and then you see him. Marcus is next to you, one arm still holding you tight, lying on his stomach, his head resting on the pillow as he sleeps peacefully.

He’s still here, disheveled and naked, the most precious gift you found in Rome.

Adriana's gorgeous mood board:

Absolutely Np tag for some people that showed interest when I shared snippets in my Wip Wednesday: @iamladyp @milla-frenchy @whocaresstillthelouvre @arcanefox207 @cas-readsandwrites @604to647 @probablyreadinsmut @thundermartini @sizzlingcloudmentality Usual tag list: @harriedandharassed @almostempty @pedrostories (feel free to ignore and let me know if you want to be removed, I'll do it right away)

Thanks for reading!

#lovely recs #thank youuuuu🥰

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 9 days ago

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This is what Joel Miller picking you up for a date in Jackson, would look like.

#yeah it should be me #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us 2

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 9 days ago

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He is so funny, omg!!

#I’m not 50 but #he’s just like me fr #pedro pascal #ballerina premiere #videos

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 10 days ago

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MY GOD, this was perfect! So hot and filthy, I can't imagine Lucien in any other way than a menace and a teaser, this man is a beast and he's mean while doing it. Period. And I love him that way 🤭

Reader is also hot, love me a fic where I need both 😏

Such an incredible job, my dear 🥵

The Wedding Crasher

Lucien de Leon x f!reader | WC: 2.6K

Summary: crashing your ex's wedding reception lands you in hot water with his dad Lucien..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. TW: dub-con due to reader being tipsy. Reader is a toxic, slutty, hot mess. Mentions of drinking alcohol. Age gap (reader is 20-30, Lucien is in his 40s). One bed trope. Infidelity. Secret Relationship. Fingering. Degradation. Daddy kink. Ball worship. Oral (m receiving). Pube pulling. Anal play/analingus/references to past anal sex. Spitting. Unprotected piv. Facial. Reader wears makeup and a dress and has hair long enough to put in a ponytail.. y'know.. for BJ reasons.

A/N: may I introduce my submssion for @mushgloomz PPCU Smut Writing Challenge ✨Kia assigned me this prompt and lemme tell y'all, I got EXCITED. I haven't written for our guy yet and I know nothing about him because I haven't seen the movie yet, but I was happy to explore some darker elements because that's just where my mind's been lately. The smut would. Not. Stop. And so I let it continue 😅 Enjoy!

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

FULL MASTERLIST

Lucien's grip around your arm is tight as he leads you down the corridor. He's been quiet since you left the elevator, ignoring your tears and your pleas that you'll just go home quietly and everyone can forget all the fuss you've made.

And what a fuss you made.

You found out where your ex-boyfriend's wedding reception was being held and made it Priority Number One to crash it. All decked out in your sluttiest little dress that showed off all your curves and left little to the imagination, you maxed out your credit card to get a room at the hotel venue. After downing some liquid courage you marched down to the reception and confronted him and his bride as they sat at their grand table, feasting and drinking champagne, as if he'd never broken your heart and chosen some "good girl" over you.

Grabbing a glass of bubbly, you loudly tapped it with a fork and made your announcement. Both bride and groom's family looked at you in horror. They'd heard the stories of your toxic relationship, the things you'd done to keep him from leaving you. But it appears not even a restraining order could keep you away. Tears overflowing and ruining your makeup, you call him out on his general shittiness. He left you high and dry, broke up with you over text and the next thing you knew he was getting engaged with this stupid prissy girl on a beach in Mexico.

You were in the middle of your speech when someone pulled you away. Assuming it was security, you were fully prepared to spend the night in jail if you had to. You did what you came here to do.

But when you got outside to the hallway you saw it was just your ex's dad Lucien, his handsome face set in a grim countenance as he dragged you away from the party. "Come on," he'd growled, "gotta make sure you stay put."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he mutters, finally bringing you back to your room. The AC has been left on and it's freezing, your nipples already hardening under your dress. Lucien pretends not to take notice as he sits you down on the single queen-sized bed and hands you a bottled water from the minibar. "Don't worry, I'll cover the cost," he says, and notices you've already plundered it. Emptied mini bottles of Crown Royal are all over the dresser. "Jesus, sweetheart, you're a fucking mess. I'm gonna have to stay here and make sure you're okay."

You lean back on the bed and cry, your hands over your face. "He said he loved me! He broke every single promise to me! He'll never be happy with that stupid little bitch!"

"Come on," he soothes, sitting next to you, propped up on one arm. "What do you expect? He's young and dumb. Every guy his age is." His fingers delicately trace over your exposed thigh, your short dress riding up. "Isn't that why you kept coming to me?"

A shock goes through you at his touch, zinging straight to your cunt, growing wet just by him being here. "It was a mistake," you tell him, still unable to face him.

"Maybe the first time was, but every other time after that?" he teases. "When he wouldn't come home after you fought, who did you call when you were lonely and scared? Who came right to your aid and gave you tissues to dry your tears, a shoulder to cry on, and a nice big cock to make you feel better?"

"Lucien!" you moan in frustration.

"Nuh-uh, let me finish. Who snuck into my room when I took us all on vacation to Aspen, and my son was too tired to fuck you? You were lucky my wife was in the shower that long. What if she'd come out and seen you face down and ass up, taking my cock like the little slut you are?" Despite his words, there's no sting behind them. You're well aware of your nature and your strong desire to be fucked.

"Stop," you whine, but you're bringing his hand to your dripping pussy, shoving your thong to the side, eager and desperate for a release.

"That's why Alejandro broke up with you. Not because of the way you dress, or how you want to take a swing at everyone when you get a little bit of whiskey in you, but because you're a slut for his old man."

He grabs you, moving you how he wants you on the bed, your legs splayed obscenely. The black thong with tiny hot pink bows on the waistband does little to cover your dripping slit, folds already puffy. Lucien watches as you clench around nothing.

"Jesus, mija, you really need it bad, don't you? Now tell me honestly: did you really come here to win back my son, or did you want to show off in the hopes that I'd fuck you again?"

With his thick fingers he gently moves the string of your thong out of the way and runs his knuckle along your gash, bringing it to his mouth for a taste. "That's why he broke it off with you, baby. He found out about us. You left one of these little lacy fucking things in my car and he threatened to beat the hell out of me. Can you imagine? I love my son but he's a skinny little prick."

He swiftly inserts two fingers, watching the shock on your face quickly turn to bliss, your eyes closed, lips parted as he starts pumping his hand.

"This is what you needed, huh mija? Need to be stuffed just to be happy.. now say that sweet little word that drives me fucking crazy.." he whispers, his smoky voice tinted with perversion.

"D-daddy," you stutter out, taking a deep gasp of air as he curls his fingers inside you.

"Daddy what? Come on, princesa, use your words.."

His rhythm is steady as he continues to glide his fingers in, dark eyes on yours as he patiently waits. That's one thing you hate about Lucien. He's never in a rush; he makes you come to him, crawling, begging, pussy weeping with pure need. And he fills that need every time.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," his rough, baritone voice beckons to you, daring you and mocking you all at once.

"I wanna come," you confess. tears streaming down your face as if you're confessing to a crime.

"Oh yeah? Wanna come real bad, don't you? Haven't been stuffed in awhile. I can tell. So fucking tight." As a reward for your honesty his thumb swipes over your clit and he smirks as your hips raise up, tight cunny constricting around him. He leans in, wide body over you, crowding you in every sense of the word, his lips ghosting over yours. "Tell me again, but this time say it properly."

Your throat feels hot and tight as you try to swallow. Your mind is still a little fuzzy both from the alcohol and from the way Lucien's fingers are pistoning into you. "Daddy," you tell him in your sweetest voice. "Daddy, please make me come."

"That's more like it," he says with pride in his voice, giving you a few more gentle flicks of his thumb on your clit. "You think you've earned the right to come after the stunt you pulled tonight? Showing up where you're not wanted?" His touch grows rougher, insistent, fingers plunging deep inside.

"No.. I don't know! Just please!" you beg him, helpless against his tough love.

"Maybe I'll consider it if you get on your knees and stuff that little puta mouth with my cock."

Desperate, you slide to the floor, the hotel room carpet not the kindest on your knees as you settle down before Lucien. He's already undoing his pants, his dress shirt and jacket still on, including the boutonnier still pinned to it.

You're dirty, disgusting, filthy for wanting him more than you ever wanted Alejandro. When Lucien's cock springs free from his briefs you're already droooling. He brings your hair to a makeshift ponytail as you lick up the bead of precum from his slit, teasing the tiny hole with your tongue.

"Fuck, you little tease. C'mon, that's not how a real puta does it," he goads you. Eyes on him, you spit on it, letting the thick saliva run down before you wrap your fingers around him and stroke him, determination in your veins as you tug on his cock, lifting it to get to his balls. You curl your tongue around the smooth shape of them, popping one between your lips and gently sucking, feeling validated in Lucien's grunts and groans.

"Getting me all sticky," he comments, pulling you back by your hair as he sees your sparkly lip gloss on his balls and the base of his cock. It's your way of marking him, of letting his wife know you were there. As if she'd care. She's only with him for the money and you're only seeing him for his dick.

"Lick all this off, baby," he commands. "Make me sticky with something else."

You lick the cherry lip gloss off, smiling to see some of it's gotten in his thatch of hair as well. You comb your fingers through it, knowing he likes it, gently pulling it up to watch him squirm. "Little bitch," he grunts, his voice playful despite the uncomfortable sting you gave him.

Your tongue glides across him, pulling the foreskin down further, getting yourself ready to take him. You're an old pro at this, and no one's ever taken him as deeply as you do. Working past your gag reflex you slide him into your mouth, generating as much saliva as you can, taking him out and stroking him when it's too much, only to get him down your throat again, breathing through your nose as he presses your head down, attempting to keep you there gagging on his cock.

"Perfect little hole for me," Lucien mutters. "But I don't want to come down your throat this time. Get those panties off."

Obediently you pull the soggy material down your legs, twisted up, and kick them off. Lucien moves you onto the bed, your dress hiked up, showing off your fresh wax job. "C'mon, baby, ass to the edge. You know the drill."

As soon as you're settled he shoves his middle and ring fingers inside you, turned down so his thumb can play with the puckered ring of your ass. Lucien spits on it, gently easing his thumb inside while his other fingers slowly piston in and out of your sopping pussy.

"Daddy!" you cry out, clenching in both places, so wet that it's dripping down to alleviate his entry into your ass. And his fingers are so thick that it's both a pleasure and a pain to take them.

"Why are you weeping like you're a virgin?" he tuts. "Don't act like no one's ever come through here and played before. Remember Puerto Vallarta? And how you let me fuck this tight little ass right there on the beach? You weren't crying then. In fact you loved it. You even called me Daddy back then."

He leans down and tickles your asshole with his tongue, spreading you open with his free hand, chuckling darkly when you squirm and shake before him. He spits on it some more, delving in a bit deeper with his thumb, watching you with a predatory look.

"You going to apologize for crashing my son's wedding?"

"No," you gasp out, brows drawn together in a vision of ecstasy.

"Thought not." He removes his hand and teases your puffy cunt with his cockhead until you're begging him to put it inside. When he does he only feeds it into you inch by agonizing inch, retracting when you ask for more. He loves the control he has over you, the way you, like a perfect doll, will do whatever he says, and even when you fuss about it you'll give in because you both know no one can fuck you like he does.

"Please, daddy," you groan, desperate in your own skin, feeling like you're drowning without having him inside you, stretched and filled, more than anyone else ever has done to you. Lucien loves to toy with you and you let him because he does it so well. "Not yet, mija," he purrs. "Open wide for me. Come on."

Like a good girl you open your mouth, tongue hanging out to receive the glob of his saliva as it strings between his lips, and your tongue curls around it, housing it for a moment before you swallow. Alejandro would never spit in your mouth; Lucien insists upon it.

You almost choke when he slams into you, his hands supporting the backs of your thighs as he spreads you out around his hips, finally using slow, shallow strokes, barely moving inside of you, watching your face for when he hits that sweet spot deep inside. You're angled just so that his tip brushes against it, and when you clench down on him, your girl juice dribbling out onto him, he knows he's there.

He starts a steady rhythm, eyes on you as you pull down the top of your dress, fondling your tits, bringing a nipple up to your mouth to lick it into a perfect pebbled hardness. Lucien's eyes go dark as he watches you, continuing his unchanging motion.

"So fucking tight," he groans. "How does a puta like you stay so tight, honey?"

You don't give him the satisfaction of telling him his dick is just that big. He knows it. You've gushed over it, literally and figuratively, dozens of times before.

Now is no different, the lewd, sloppy squelching of your pussy as he brings your knees over his shoulders, folding you in half like a fucking pretzel. You haven't come yet and he's in his element, edging you, holding off when he feels you start to tighten, hips bucking beneath him. He could fuck you like this for hours, bringing you so close and keeping you just hanging on to the brink.

"Lucien," you mumble his name over and over, like a prayer that will snap you out of the haze of need you're trapped in. "Please, pleasepleasepleaseplease.."

"Fuck," he hisses. "All right, come on my cock you little whore. Milk me good, baby."

Your pussy pulsates around him, choking his dick like it owes him rent. "Daddy!" you gasp out one more time, nearly blacking out at the sweet release he's finally giving you.

"Hey, hey, eyes on me," he commands, twitching inside you. "C'mon, tell me where you want it."

"Wherever.. ah! wherever you want," you respond, going through the aftershocks as Lucien absorbs the quivers and convulsions. With no hesitation he pulls out of you and straddles you, hurriedly stroking himself until he comes, spilling over your face, the saltiness of his cum finding its way into your mouth when you gasp.

"All that pretty makeup ruined. Probably paid good money for that lash lift," he smirks as he tucks softening cock back into his trousers. With a sick kind of pride he surveys your wrecked form, face covered in his jizz, dress fitting snugly around your midsection, tits and pussy on full display. He admires the glistening between your thighs, your sweet and musky scent still in his nostrils.

"Damn, maybe you should've been the one to marry my son after all," he says thoughtfully, giving your thigh a good smack. "I would have loved having you as a daughter-in-law."

(Spanish terms: mija = daughter ; princesa = princess ; puta = whore)

tagging some peeps I think might be interested: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @tateypots @sunshinehaze1 @cxrsed-angel @everybodylovedcontractors

@thedilfdiaries @milla-frenchy @joelalorian @604to647

@slimybeth69 @aurorawritestoescape @inept-the-magnificent

#ppcu smut challenge #lucien de leon #lucien de leon x reader #lucien de leon smut #lucien de leon x you #lucien de leon fanfiction #ppcu #ppcu fandom #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcusmutchallenge

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 10 days ago

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PEDRO PASCAL as Joel Miller The Last of Us | S02E06 - The Price

#pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #tlouedit #dailymenedit #userpedro #dilfgifs #pedrohub #inspo

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 10 days ago

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Awww thank you pretty, I’m so glad you enjoyed this 😍

And thank you always for your help and support 🥰

Pairing: Modern!Marcus Acacius x Curvy!f!reader Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW Words count: 7135 Summary: Moving to Rome for work brings you to meet an unexpected next door neighbor. Tags: AU, modern setting, smut, neighbor!Marcus, curvy reader, 69, a lot of praise (Marcus is stunned by your curvy body, as he should!), use of a sex toy, Marcus is a gentleman but quite freaky in the bedroom (and I love that for him 😌), reader takes no shit, she is explicitly described as curvy but no mention of skin tone or hair, she understands Italian, use of Italian (translation in brackets) , Marcus can speak Italian, unprotected p in v and I didn't mention protection (this is not reality and no one gets pregnant in my fics, please do better IRL and use protection), cream pie, nipple play, swearing, pet names, dirty talk, mention of a lot Italian things, a lot of self indulgent stuff, no mention of age, they're both grown up adults anyway (30 something in my head), let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @mushgloomz PPCU Smut Writing Challenge 2025, Kia assigned me this prompt that I loved very much, I'm sorry that it took me so long to write this but here we are. I hope it's decent, I haven't published something in ages and I'm very nervous to share this 🥺 - Thanks so much to @aurorawritestoescape for being my precious beta, your help is such a comfort to me ❤️ (Any mistake is still on me!!! English is not my first language- Italian is) - Thanks to the lovely @thedilfdiaries for reading through this and always being such a sweetie pie 🥰 - Thanks to @baronessvonglitter that made the mood board that you can see at the end for me. My idea has changed over time but she did a beautiful job and I absolutely wanted to share it anyway. Love you all so much 🥹 As always, comments and reblog are appreciated, I really hope you'll like it!