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letstalkaboutshtufff · 6 months ago

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A Love that Burns

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

A/n: You don’t understand the chokehold this man has on me ughhhhh. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy, I wrote this very fast!

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x wife character (I usually do x reader but I really like the name Aurelia so I used that!)

Warnings: fluff, angst, arranged marriage, Curse words, mention of fire, minor injuries, burns. A bit of suicidal ideation. Allusion to smut hehe. 18+ to be safe please. No minors!!

Summary: General Marcus Acacius’s new bride is troublesome, he doesn’t seem to mind though. After an incident occurs she pulls away from him and he can’t figure out why.

****************************************************

“He’s going to be furious…”

“Such a shame…do you think he’ll throw her out?”

“He might… we always knew she was trouble but this time she’s gone too far…”

“Poor dear, I doubt even her father will take her back…”

The roaring flames had long since died down, leaving now only crackling embers and dark clouds of smoke. How much time had passed you didn’t know. You hadn’t moved from the ground, knees planted on the hard stone, eyes glued to the scene before you.

What was once a grand structure, beautifully carved and molded for someone equally as impressive was now nothing more than a pile on the ground and it was completely your fault.

How had wanting to get a book out of your husband’s study and lighting a candle to see had gone so wrong?

You should’ve listened to your conscious, it told you that you shouldn’t go into your husbands private building but you knew he had an extensive selection and while you were newly married, barely even a few months he was your husband and you didn’t really think he would mind.

In the short time you were married the general had been accommodating and civil, more than civil actually, he had been doing his best to make you feel comfortable. That being said you did barely see him at times due to his duties and when you did it seemed all you did was cause him trouble.

Like that time you accidentally visited the animals one early morning when you were bored and didn’t shut the door behind you. Acacius had been abruptly woken up by the clucking of chickens ascending the staircase and running around the halls like it was a party. You had been redder than a pomegranate when you realized your mistake.

Or that time you lost your wedding necklace and spent hours wading in the lake where the laundry was washed thinking it fell there. You’d never forget the feeling when Acacius strode through the gates in tow with fellow commanders for a meeting but everyone froze seeing the comical sight of you, a highborn lady dress pulled up and soaking wet. That time made you want to drown yourself right then and there.

Oh and how could you forget the time you wanted to show your appreciation by baking his favorite dessert according to the maids and thought adding some cinnamon you’d bought in town was a good idea. Not even bothering to wonder why the kitchens didn’t have cinnamon in the first place… turns out the reason was a good one, the general had an allergy.

This time it was his face that was redder than yours… you didn’t face him for days after that..

There were so many moments like that but somehow each time he didn’t get angry like you expected. He didn’t yell or scold you.

When you bit your fingers nervously watching the servants try to catch the chickens he slowly walked out, surveyed the scene in what you could guess was mild disbelief and perhaps a bit of amusement, looked at you then turned back to go back to sleep.

When you were soaked in the lake he quickly regained the men’s attention, led them inside then a few minutes later reappeared with some haste. You didn’t get a chance to protest when he stepped in and pulled you out by your arm. Still he didn’t yell, he did start to scold a bit though because you were shivering, but when you suddenly yelped and squirmed reaching in your dress and pulled revealing a flopping fish with your necklace around it he lost all his words. You celebrated while he just started in disbelief.

And when you literally poisoned him you sobbed beside him as the healer frantically gave him several mixtures and an injection of some sort. You apologized over and over like a parrot. When he could finally breathe again, he closed his eyes exhausted but said, “Don’t cry, it tasted great..”

All those times he was so kind, unlike any other man you’d met before. To think you had been so afraid of the arranged marriage and now all you could think was how he deserved someone so much better.

He was older and saw you as a child you were sure of it. You wished you could act like the other wives, but you just couldn’t.

Your eyes glazed watched the flickers before you as if in a trance.

You’d burned his favorite place in the villa. A building constructed years ago that served as his study, his place of comfort, his safe space. He’d showed it to you when you first got married. You’d been amazed at how beautiful it was on the inside.

You could see on his face how this place made him relaxed compared to the rest of the villa.

And now it was gone..

The whispers of the servants were muffled around you but you caught them all the same.

You couldn’t find the strength to move, maybe you should have at least moved back, away from the falling ash and debris but you couldn’t.

You ruined everything, just like always…

There was some more muffling amongst the crackling, some sounds you didn’t register, couldn’t register… then a sharp yell. A tone you didn’t recognize.

“Why is she-!”

There was pressure on your shoulders but still you couldn’t look away.

All gone… all your fault…

You think you heard something loud but couldn’t understand it.

The pressure increased… so did the shouting but still you couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until you saw the burnt pile get smaller that you realized you were being pulled- no carried away.

You felt so disoriented, everything in your vision jerking and you realized whoever was moving you was running.

The scene was still in view but further away, your eyes not daring to look away. You did however register that you abruptly stopped moving and were sat on something upright. The pressure returned to your head then arms then body.

Yelling, someone was yelling in your ear but it wasn’t until the pressure reached your face and you were forced to look away from the scene.

Eyes, wide and frantic, searched yours. Lips opened and shouted something you still could not understand. But the face you knew all too well. The one you wronged, the one you did a horrible misdeed to. Acacius.

You inhaled loudly, more of a gasp then coughed. Suddenly you felt everything crash into you at once, from when you were numb a moment ago now you burned in pain, lungs on fire, skin itchy and stinging, eyes feeling like the sun itself were upon them. You coughed and sputtered uncontrollably, breathing a foreign concept to you.

His strong hands at your back and arm. Almost cradling you was a strong contrast to his shouts that you could now hear louder than ever.

“Breathe, easy, easy- Dammit why did no one move her! Call the healer now!” He barked behind him.

Angry he was angry. Of course he was, even gentle and kind men like him had limits, limits that you’d crossed by battlefields.

Hot tears came, still you coughed, you wondered how long you could continue like that before losing consciousness, there were already spots in your vision. The sobbing now made it worse.

“Shh shh breathe it’s alright, just breathe for me wife, all is well, shh look I’m here, you’re safe” he pulled you into his lap holding you firmly in the hopes you’d calm down. He kept whispering to you, pleading and eventually the coughing stopped. You wondered how much more smoke it would’ve taken to kill you…

“That’s it, you’re safe, shh just breathe, I’m here” more tears emerged as you registered his words for the first time. How horrible you felt to have this angel of a man cradling you and comforting you when you just burned down his sanctuary.

It would have been easier on your heart had he yelled and thrown you aside.

“The healer is here!” Someone called out, your eyes were closed on his chest but you heard everything around you.

Swiftly you were lifted in his arms and carried to his chambers. The healer immediately got to work peeling back the fabric you only now noticed was dark as ash and singed in many places. Acacius stood behind her as close as he could without getting in her way. You watched as his eyes scanned your form, concern etched as he took in all the burns and scrapes. Your heart couldn’t handle it, he deserved a woman 100times better than you. You shut your eyes of the heartache ignoring the healer telling you to stay awake, moments later you were unconscious.

**************************************************

Stinging pain roused you, you wanted to cry out because your body was screaming at you. You were alone in the room, but by the moonlight shining through and how exausted you felt you didn’t think you had been unconscious long. Fresh tears escaped and you didn’t bother to wipe them.

You sat up in raw agony realizing just how many injures you sustained. Your skin was covered in loose bandages and shiny from salve. Sitting so close at the time you didn’t feel anything but clearly you were affected.

Shouting from below had your head whipping to the window.

With great effort and pain you stood on shaky legs and approached the opening peeking your head outside, you squinted and saw figured in the yard.

You choked out a sob when you realized what was happening. Acacius was yelling… yelling at the servants and guards for not moving you. Yes they put out most of the fire but didn’t bother with you. You hardly blamed them, you were a burden, an embarrassment of a lady to the great house hold. Perhaps they wanted you to die, actually it would have been easier if you did.

You couldn’t bare to listen to it anymore, guilt eating you alive. For some reason you had to see it again. To confirm what you had done…

You ignored all the pain and like a ghost descended the staircase.

When you reached the bottom you sucked in a breathe before walking forward where the smell of smoke was still heavy and thick.

And there it was, like a brand on your heart the scene of your crime. There were no more embers, just wood and ash. You walked closer until you stepped on something.

You moved your sandal revealing a silver medal covered in soot. You remembered how proudly it hung on one of the walls. And now it was beneath rubble and dirt.

Two hands found your mouth as you let out a cry.

“Heavens What have I done?” The strangled voice sounded stranger to you.

“What have I done, what have I done” you whispered achingly.

“Aurelia!”

You choked again hearing his voice, you couldn’t bring your self to look just yet.

“Aurelia what are you doing!? Why are you up!?” He rounded you hands finding your shoulders.

Acacius waited for your answer but you had none, only fresh tears. He barely hesitated before reaching down and scooping you up.

“I can walk-“ you tried to say but it was unintelligible through your tears, you didn’t want to burden this man ever again, not for anything.

He glanced at you for a moment but continued his quick pace to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, his concern growing at the endless tears.

“Are you in pain? Let me call the healer back-“ he was already halfway out again.

“No-! no I’m fine I’m fine don’t call I’m fine!” You cried out but tried to collect yourself to not worry him more. The truth is your body was on fire but you would never burden this man again.

He hesitated but listened and approached you again, “Then what is it? Are you afraid? Everything’s alright now, your safe”.

You bit your lip to keep in the cry. How could he be so kind?

“Aurelia? Tell me please, what is it?” He kneeled beside you a helpless expression on his face.

“I-I I’m so- im so sorry, I’m sorry- I don’t know how- I was in there for a b-book and lit some candles I don’t even know how it h-happened I-I-“

Your breathing was becoming erratic again but once you started apologizing you couldn’t stop

“I’m so s-sorry Acacius I’m so sorry” you buried your face in your hands.

“Aurelia shh it’s alright, don’t cry, it’s nothing that can’t be replaced, don’t apologize, you need to breathe alright?”

You barely heard him, but you needed him to know how sorry you were, even if you didn’t deserve forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” you continued.

“Aurelia-“

“I’m s-sorry”

“Aurelia stop you’ll hurt yourself more!” He kneeled on the bed pulling you closer to him, worried that if you didn’t calm down you would go into another coughing fit.

“Shh it’s alright, I’m not angry, all that matters is you’re safe. Please calm down, can you breathe slowly for me? Look, follow my breathe…”

“That’s it, breathe in and out just like that, good girl…” he held you close and you felt your eyes begin to droop, exhaustion taking its toll. He sighed when your last words were a whispered apology.

***************************************************

The next day you were miserable, the burns although mostly shallow still caused great pain. Mentally you were a wreck, replaying the events over and over.

The healer told you you needed to rest for several days so that’s what Acacius made sure you did. He visited often but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak hardly a thing out of shame. Most times you just pretended you were asleep.

A week passed and you were allowed to get up as normal just to take it easy. Acacius had gone out for some business luckily because you didn’t think you had the strength to face him.

As you descended the stairs you tried to ignore the whispers of the servants. They all thought the same thing you were repeating in your mind.

Burden

Shameful

Useless

You sighed shakily nearing the now cleaned land where the structure once stood. His kindness made you feel horrible. You wish he would yell and scream at you, for you deserved all the bad words

You spent the day aimlessly wandering and thinking until you tired yourself out and retired to your chambers.

A jar of salve was left by your bed from the healer for the pain but you didn’t open it. You deserved every single sting and ache.

The next day you hardly felt like getting up so you didn’t. Food was brought, you didn’t bother eating it, instead you gave it to the birds outside the window.

In your solitude you came to a resolve. You would resist every urge, every inkling of your old reckless self. Acacius deserved someone who was 100 times the woman you were but since you were bound all you could do was at least not give him any more trouble. Another week passed, Acacius had been gone for some military business and it was easier that way.

It had been a whole nother week when Acacius finally arrived back to the villa. He dismounted his horse with a sigh. He did not want to be gone so long but he could hardly deny the emperors requests.

Tiredly he walked through the gates, scanning for signs of you. It was unusual to not see you flitting about.

A servant approached and helped him remove his cape.

“The Lady, how is she?”

The servant frowned a bit, “My Lady has been… resting these past weeks. We’ve not seen much of her.”

He frowned at that. Her wounds were not so terrible to have her bedridden so long. So what was wrong with his wife?

He nodded to the servant and made way directly to her chambers.

He knocked on the door listening for her voice.

“Come in” you called expecting a servant with food.

You were sat on the bench by the window staring out.

“My Lady..” he said almost hesitant.

Your head whipped to the side, eyes widened seeing your husband.

“A-Acacius… I didn’t know you were back…”

He walked inside and shut the door behind him.

“Are you well? The servants tell me you haven’t left the room much..” he stepped closer taking you in. Your sunken face, the way your eyes weren’t lit up with that sparkle he loved.

“I’m alright, thank you..” he frowned, not quite satisfied with the answer.

“Your wounds are healed?”

You nodded quickly.

He nodded then cleared his throat in the awkward silence that followed, “Then why haven’t you been out?”

You thought of what to say for a moment, “I… no reason, just resting I suppose”

Another answer that didn’t satisfy him but he decided not to pry. If you didn’t want to speak he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.

“Well I’ll be in my chambers should you need anything…”

“Thank you..” and with that he left shutting the door behind him. You bit your lip forcing the tears not to come. How dare you cry when he’s the one who should be upset. Get it together.

Several more days pass and Acacius was growing frustrated. You barely left the room, choosing to take your meals inside even when he was home. He only caught glimpses of you here or there on the occasional walk around the garden but even that was becoming rare. Where was his wife who was always flitting around singing something off tune or getting into trouble. He recalled the time he awoke to clucking outside his door, and the time he found you skirts tied comically splashing in the lake, then of course when you so happily baked for him flour marks on your face. He smiled fondly at the memories, then frowned.

Why had you suddenly changed so much? Had he done something? He knew the fire shook you up but perhaps he said something unintentional? Did you overhear him yelling at the staff and resented him for it? He was going mad.

It took another few days before his patience finally ran out and he all but burst into your room.

“A-Acacius?! What-“ you startled dropping the book in your hands.

“Tell me what it is” he demanded a bit out of breathe.

“W-what?”

“Tell me what’s wrong or what I’ve done to upset you into seclusion”

“Acacius you’ve done nothing wrong I swear…”

“Then what is it? Why have you been avoiding me? What has upset you so much that you’ve locked yourself away?”

You didn’t expect this, so you really didn’t know what to say.

“I… I think it’s better this way…”

His eyebrows furrowed a bit trying to make sense of what you just said. “I don’t understand, what’s better?”

You fiddled with your hands and had a hard time making eye contact so you chose a lovely spot on the floor instead.

“It’s better that I don’t…. cause problems..” heavens was that a lot harder to say out loud than you thought.

This definitely took him aback.

“What?”

Oh no was he upset now? He surely looked it.. maybe you should have explained better.

“I-I mean… I’m always causing you trouble and getting into situations that I shouldn’t… I figured it would be better if I spent more time here….”

He was quiet for a while, his face undeniably confused and upset.

“And you decided this all on your own?” He said in a tone that you were a bit nervous about. Calm but hidden anger.

“I-I… yes..”

“So your plan is to live out the rest of your days between these four walls?” He couldn’t hold back a scoff. His annoyance seeping through his usually calm demeanor with you.

“….It’s better-”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance “Better? Better for who exactly?”

“Acacius all I do is cause you trouble! I’ve been embarrassing you since we wed, the entire household thinks I’m a burden and they’re right, I cannot-I will not burden you anymore especially after-…” you couldn’t bring yourself to mention the fire. With a shakey breath you gathered yourself and continued.

“I just don’t want to upset you anymore…” you confessed.

The silence was deafening, your heart squeezing so much you were afraid it was going to burst.

“You know out of everything that’s happened between us I think this is the only time I’ve been truly upset.”

You eyed him swallowing dryly taking in his clenched jaw and crossed arms.

“Acacius…”

“You don’t get to decide this all on your own, and you especially don’t get to decide how I feel.”

“…”

“Have I ever been cross with you? Made you feel as if you’ve shamed me?”

“Well no but-“

“Then why?” In two strides he was upon you looking down.

“Why did you suddenly decide that I would like it more if you hid yourself away?”

“Because if I’m here not causing you problems then wouldn’t it be easier for you…?” You wrung your hands together, anxiety heightening with every moment.

“Fuck that”

You jumped a bit startled that those words came out of his mouth.

“W-what?”

“Cause me problems”

“Acacius-“

“Break things, scream shout, bring the whole villa down if you wish it but you will not lock yourself up like a prisoner. You’re my wife, I’d like to actually have you around.”

“You… you’re just saying that because you’re too kind Acacius… but my heart can’t take it anymore. I did something so awful and I know you must be upset…”

“Is this about the fire then?”

“…”

“Things can be replaced, nothing that burned cannot be bought again or rebuilt.”

“B-but you loved that place. It was your sanctuary”

“I did love it, but it’s gone now and I hardly think about it, it’ll be rebuilt soon enough not that it really matters. What matters is that you’re safe and sound.”

“How can you be so kind? So patient so-so perfect” he scoffed at the last one in mild amusement.

“Acacius it’s true! I’ve never met someone so gentle and sweet”

“Gentle and sweet..I’ll be sure to add that to my title right after general or Rome”

“You joke but it’s the truth…” you look down at your sandals.

He sighed before lifting your chin up with his warm fingers then caressing your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Tell me something wife, have you seen me act that way with anyone else?”

“Well…” you thought about it. He was civil with everyone.. stern a lot, with servants and his men and well everyone else…

“And why do you think that is hm?”

“Well… I assume it’s because you see me more as a child…”

“A child.” He repeated.

You nodded.

“Aurelia you are never allowed to assume anything ever again”

“What?”

“You truly think that’s how I see you? That I treat you kindly because I pity you?”

“Well…then why?” You asked genuinely confused.

“Why treat my wife with care? Why worry for her? Why speak gentle words? Why shower her with gifts? Tell me Aurelia why does a man do those things for a woman?”

“I… I assumed-um well I believed that you were just..”

“Just what? Doing that out of duty? Is it so impossible to imagine that I love my wife and want her to be happy?”

“….” Your eyes widened larger than the sun. You hardly believed the words. So you asked him in a whisper.

“W-what did you s-say?”

Instead of answering he leaned forward closing the distance with a soft kiss.

“Does that answer your question?” He breathed in the few inches between your lips.

You shook your head no and leaned in. You felt the smirk against his lips. After several moments you pulled back to regard him.

“I never imagined you’d feel the same way…I still don’t think I believe it…”

“Like I said, you’re forbidden to assume things from now on wife”

“I… I’m sorry…” his hands settled at your waist, his smell flooding your senses.

“Make it up to me…”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but didn’t want to disappoint. You wrapped your arms around him pulling him into a deeper kiss full of emotion.

“Never allow such thoughts in your mind again, and you’re wrong, you’re not a burden. Yes I’ll admit you have a habit of getting into unique situations but I don’t mind, in fact I look forward to what surprises await me each day.”

“Do you really mean it? Even if I do awful things…? “

“Yes I mean it.. although I will draw the line at one thing, never do anything to put yourself in danger. When I saw you by the flames I-“ he paused sucking in a breathe.

And that moment you heart finally caught up with your head because no man could fake the emotions on his face like that.

You hugged him whispering an apology into his shoulder.

“You’ve apologized enough for a lifetime, come, dine with me, you’ve lost weight…” you nod letting him pull you by the hand out the door.

You heard some voices and frowned, anxiety creeping up again.

Ever the perfect man he caught on immediately.

“What is it?”

“The servants… it’s been hard to be around them… you might accept me for who I am but they haven’t…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it”

You cocked your head a bit at his amused tone, “why?”

“Because I fired them all”.

“Acacius!”

“Don’t protest, it’s done. I blame myself for not realizing what heartless people resided in my home. Besides I think you’ll like the new staff a lot better..”

You descended the staircase still confused why he seemed so smug until you heard voices you hadn’t heard in months.

“My Lady!”

“My Lady we’re here!”

“Oh how we’ve missed you!”

You couldn’t contain the loud gasp when your eyes landed on the familiar faces below. The staff that practically raised you was beaming up at you with joy.

“Oh my- Marika! Cicero! Diana! Felix! Ahh you’re all here!” You practically jumped from the staircase onto the group of your favorite people in the world.

Acacius couldn’t help but chuckle as the group enveloped you pulling you in, hugging and kissing you. Hardly the kind of servants he was used to but now he understood why you were so saddened to leave them behind. After your embraces you pulled back.

“What are you doing here? Is Father here?”

“You mean you don’t know?” The words would have worried you had everyone not been smiling ear to ear.

“Know what?” The general has employed us all here.

“W-what?!” You snapped your head to your grinning husband.

“B-but how did you- father must’ve been- h-how!?”

He laughed and descended the last couple steps, “I can be very persuasive if I need to be dear wife.”

“Oh- oh I don’t believe this!” you couldn’t contain your joy and parted from the group to jump on your husband who stumbled a bit but caught you of course. You kissed him then and there not caring who was watching- well in fact you didn’t care because everyone in the room were people you loved and felt safe with.

He was a bit surprised but when you pulled back his face was quickly morphed into fondness and satisfaction that the gleam in your eye was back.

“There she is..” you sighed happily hugging him once more then ran back to the awaiting group.

Well actually you made it halfway before pausing, turning around with an unsure look, and walking slowly back to him.

He tilted his head curious, “Acacius… will you… will you allow me to properly thank you… tonight? If that’s- if that’s something you’d like… or-“ your face that lovely shade of red he’d come to admire.

“Something I’d like?” He scoffed and for a moment you were afraid until you saw the expression in his eyes.

“Well I didn’t want to assume… you’ve forbidden it remember.” He smirked leaning down by your ear so only you could hear him.

“Listen well wife. This is the only exception you may always assume...” You shivered feeling his breathe caress your ear.

Gentle and sweet and now you had a new word to add, although you couldn’t quite find the right one just yet. But oh were you ever so eager to find out…

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Is it getting hot in here guys?? No? Just me? Anywayyyy hope you enjoyed. I threw this up in one sitting so forgive all the mistakes. I finally saw the movie and wow, who knew they could fit so many hot men on one screen.

Also can anyone think of a better title lol😅

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vivwritescrappythings · 4 months ago

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ubi tu gaius, ego gaia

marcus acacius x fem!reader

part 1

The day of your wedding to Marcus Acacius finally has come. What kind of man is he behind closed doors?

a/n: this is part 2 to this lovely request! sorry it took me a while, i work full time and am getting a graduate degree

tw: fem reader, afab reader, reader is shorter than Marcus, reader has hair long enough to braid, social norms of ancient rome (my research may also be wrong, but i did my best), your imaginary dad is a misogynist, not proofread, Marcus may be poorly written, SMUT, p in v sex, riding, fingering, creampie

word count: 10k

masterlist

MDNI!

You were dizzy with anxiety. No matter how many times your aunt tried to soothe you, your thoughts were a boat that had strayed too close to Kharybdis–pulled into the watery depths of your inadequacy as you fussed with your hair and your dress and the flowered crown you weaved last night. It was hard not to burst into tears as you straightened it on your head, pinching leaves into place and pruning shriveled petals from the flowers.

It settled nicely, the colors warm and inviting. You had gathered the flowers and greenery yourself, taking your time to pick the best blooms. A similar one was made for Marcus to wear, an errand boy having already taken it to his domus that morning. Crowns befitting a husband and wife—or at least you hoped as much.

“You must calm down,” your aunt murmured, brushing her fingers over your brow to smooth the furrow. “You look beautiful, just as a bride should.”

You stared at the reflection of yourself, taking in the slope of your nose and the curve of your lower lip. The white stola was your mother’s, woven in one piece out of a linen so fine you knew she had spun it herself. You added a border the color of egg yolks to match your veil. A wool belt tied in the knot of Hercules pulled the loose fabric in at your waist.

The belt was soft beneath your fingertips as you idly traced the shape of the knot. Marcus was the only person allowed to untie it–the knot of Hercules could only be undone by a groom on the eve of his wedding.

It was hard to imagine. The wedding still felt elusive despite it being only a few hours away.

Perhaps it was the notion that you would suddenly accomplish everything your father had ever intended that you found difficult to grasp. You would soon be a wife and you, much to your father’s delight, would be Marcus’s responsibility. It was the culmination of all your training.

What would be left of you then?

It had never occurred to you that there would be something after. An entire life left to live.

Would Marcus be as your father was: controlling and demanding with a clear image of what the matron of his house would look like? Or–perhaps the more frightening option–would he allow you to take your own shape?

It was impossible to know.

“It is nearly time,” your aunt said as she stood behind you, affixing the veil to the flower crown and adjusting it to cover your intricately braided hair. The golden fabric hung down your back, just barely brushing the floor. “The omens were taken this morning, it seems you have chosen a favorable wedding day.”

“I am lucky, then,” you breathed, nodding as you met her gaze in the reflection.

She took stock of you, fiddling with the folds of your stola and the way your jewelry settled against your skin. “You look so much like your mother like this,” she murmured wistfully, the sincerity in her tone nearly making you choke.

It was becoming hard to remember what your mother looked like–you were so young when she passed away. Your father refused to talk about her and your brothers followed his lead, claiming that it was too painful to discuss her. The only memories you had of her were hazy: a soft voice singing you to sleep, a gentle hand running a brush through your hair. Always faceless.

You only knew about her from the things she left behind–jewelry, clothing, tapestries. She liked gold more than silver, preferred red to blue. Almost every tapestry was adorned with images of the rolling countryside. Maybe she would have liked to summer there.

And now you knew of her from her wedding attire that had been carefully boxed away, the stola soft around you–it was simple, as was the woolen belt at your waist. Simple and elegant.

“What was she like?” you asked, hoping your aunt would not rebuke you as so many others had before.

She guided you to sit before the mirror, producing the leather sandals for you to wear. “She was lovely. Generous and kind and intelligent,” your aunt said as she buckled the straps around your feet and ankles. “She loved music and debates at the Forum. Far too good for your father, but he was a different man before she died.”

You listened intently, greedily taking in any scrap of information you were given.

“She loved you so much,” your aunt said as she stood, pinching your cheeks to bring color to them. “She would have loved to get you dressed this morning and–”

Your father burst into the room with little care, looking flustered as he set his gaze on both of you. “The procession has arrived and your bridesmaids are in place, you must go now,” he said, hardly even taking in your appearance. You wondered if he even noticed that you were wearing your mother’s wedding attire.

Ultimately, it did not matter. He had already left the room by the time you stood, your aunt ensuring that the stola and veil draped properly as you took slow steps out of your room. It was nearly empty now, your things having been packed away in trunks that would be transferred to Marcus’s domus during the feast.

Your father’s home had been decorated opulently–tree boughs and flowers hung along the walls and columns, elegant tapestries providing additional color. Bands of wool stretched in elegant swags lined the hallway to the atrium where Marcus would be waiting for you.

Marcus.

The thought of his name made you feel faint.

Your bridesmaids met you near the entrance to the atrium–a few girls you grew up with dressed in their best pallas wrapped around them and flowers woven into their hair. They greeted you with wide smiles, reaching out to squeeze your hands and pull you into embraces.

Their compliments rained over you, coaxing a shy smile onto your face despite the suffocating feeling of your trepidation. You could hear the witnesses murmuring just around the corner, waiting for you to arrive.

Then, your matron of honor took you by the arm and brought you into the atrium, the other two bridesmaids following.

Marcus stood next to the impluvium, a priest of Jupiter at his side. The toga he wore was beautifully crafted, the cream color of the fabric entirely unblemished with a border of gold thread running along the hem. The white and gold cloak marking him as a general was clasped just below his throat.

His expression changed when he saw you, the corner of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles, umber eyes crinkling at the corners. A warm drip of pleasure ran down your spine–making him smile felt like a feat of great difficulty.

You almost forgot yourself, your look of apprehension wavering to a true smile for a moment. Roman brides were expected to be nearly distraught on their wedding day: devastated to leave their fathers while also eager to join their new husband. If a woman only was excited to marry, it reflected poorly on her family.

So you schooled yourself into a carefully practiced expression of perturbation as you worried your lower lip with your teeth for a moment, your steps on the smooth stone floor faltering for a beat.

The witnesses had parted for you–a mix of your father’s and Marcus’s friends and their wives present to view the ceremony. Your father and brother’s were among them, you could see the impatient set of your father’s shoulders and the curious gazes of your brothers. They had not set eyes upon you since you were a girl, but in a matter of moments you would be married to their commanding general.

You stopped in front of Marcus, facing him. It was hard to know what to do with your hands, so you clasped them before you as you glanced up at him. You only held his gaze for a moment before looking away, your cheeks warming.

The priest began, his voice surprisingly commanding despite his withered appearance. “Evil spirits are not welcome here, the omens have been taken on this auspicious day in favor of this union,” he said, causing the whispers of the witnesses to die off into silence.

“We ask the lararium and Vesta for their blessings,” the priest announced, gesturing with wide, sweeping motions.

Fresh incense had been lit upon the lararium, the altar to the household spirits gleaming from the thorough polish it received that morning. All three were represented: the genius for the prosperity of the family, penates for the prosperity of the house, and lares for protection.

“Finally, may Janus guide each of them through the transition from their individual lives to pursue a life together as husband and wife.”

The matron of honor moved forward, joining your right hand with Marcus’s. His grip was warm and firm, his calloused thumb rubbing up and down over the back of your palm in a soothing motion. The stretch of his fingers almost reached entirely across your hand, your own almost disappearing within his palm. Your forefinger rested over his pulse, his heartbeat steady and slow.

He did not seem nervous at all.

You were to begin, you had rehearsed. As you are Gaius, I am Gaia. It could not have been more simple.

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you murmured, demurely looking up at your soon to be husband. He squeezed your hand gently as you spoke.

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius,” he responded, his voice deep and smooth like honey.

You could hear your father’s sigh of relief from where you stood. A bright smile stretched across your face, delight warming you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. You had gotten the idea in your mind that Marcus would change his, that he would wake up and want to marry a Senator’s daughter.

The priest said something you could not quite hear, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

Marcus’s free hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up toward his. The kiss he pressed to your lips was chaste, nothing more than a quick peck before he stepped back. It left you a bit giddy, your head full of air as he directed you to the two stools facing the makeshift altar to Jupiter that had been set up in the atrium.

The priest prattled on about respecting the gods in a marriage covenant and the duties of a husband and wife. You were impatient as you listened, wanting to lean into Marcus and hear the low tones of his murmur during the first of too many feasts.

“It is time for the couple to break bread together.” The priest presented a dish with spelt bread to you and Marcus, each of you taking one side in hand.

You carefully broke off a corner with your fingers, tentatively presenting it to Marcus. His dark eyes were sparkling, a smile curving his lips as he parted them for you to feed the bread to him. Your breath hitched as his mouth just barely brushed your fingertips, your gaze stuck on the way his jaw moved as he chewed. He pressed a kiss to your palm before you pulled your hand away.

He was gentle as he moved through the same motions, feeding a portion of the bread to you. His thumb lingered for a moment on your bottom lip before pulling his hand away, watching as you slowly chewed the honey-sweetened bread. The way his dark eyes focused on you made you feel like you had been turned inside out. The weight of his gaze was inescapable, your eyes finding the marble floor. You heard him huff softly, the sound almost affectionate.

Then he continued on his duties, breaking a larger portion to present on the altar for Jupiter. The rest was taken by a servant to be divided amongst the guests. He sucked the honey off his fingertips as he reached back to gently cup your elbow, bringing you forward to the altar with a gentle hand.

He signed the marriage contract first, without hesitation. You looked down at his name with a wistful expression.

Marcus Acacius.

You wanted to trace the letters with your fingertips, but instead you simply took the reed pen in your hand. With a deep breath you placed the inked tip against the papyrus sheet, signing your name beneath Marcus’s.

And that was all, you were a married woman.

Your father practically sounded giddy as he announced the feast in the inner gardens, taking up the new fashion of eating outdoors. Truthfully, there was not enough room in the trinclium to fit everyone without setting up a second.

You preferred it, the smell of the lemon and orange trees perfuming the air and shading the long tables that had been set out. Marcus waited for you to take his arm, the muscle of his bicep warm and strong beneath your fingers. You entered the courtyard first, the corners of your veil draped over your arms so it did not drag on the ground.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured softly, head bent toward yours. You could feel his gaze travel over you, dragging from your feet to the crown of flowers and greenery holding your veil in place.

You smiled, your gaze dropping to your feet for a moment as he led you to the center seats at the high table across the courtyard. You were seated between Marcus and your father, your aunt and brothers to the right of your father and some of Marcus’s cousins to his left.

“Are you pleased?” you asked as he sat down next to you, a huff of breath from you giving your nerves away.

Marcus leveled you with his dark eyes, twisting in his seat to face you properly. A big hand found yours, gently squeezing the delicate bones of your fingers for a moment. “Are you pleased, meum cor?” he asked, his deep voice curling over the term of endearment as though he had spoken it a thousand times before.

Your heart stuttered, the consideration of your opinion still catching you by surprise. But you found yourself nodding quickly–you were pleased. Even when you had imagined your wedding as a little girl, you never anticipated feeling so content. It had been hard to conjure the shape and character of your husband, but Marcus surpassed everything you had dreamed of by far.

“Then I am pleased as well,” he said, a hand curling around the nape of your neck and pulling you in to press a kiss upon your brow.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he did, the simple intimacy of the exchange warming you. There had been no model for how a couple acted in your life, your father had never sought out another wife after your mother passed. You never knew it could be that way.

“After all, I am married to a wonderful woman, how could I not be pleased?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, leaning against the straight back of your seat. “You know, we are already married–there is no need to be so generous in your compliments,” you murmured, settling in your seat as you prepared to speak with your approaching father and aunt.

Marcus’s gaze lingered on the side of your face, making it burn. “I do not compliment you just to charm you, my lady, I hope you will come to realize that,” he said, curling his fingers around your hand and letting the entangled unit rest on your thigh.

Then your father and aunt were upon you, the first in a long line of congratulations you would have to listen to that day.

–

You watched Marcus leave from the atrium, his deep laugh echoing through the evening as he walked with his cousins. The feast had gone on until sunset, food continuously filling platters and wine flowing freely. You felt warm from the few goblets you drank, and Marcus’s cheeks were flushed when he took off to meet with you at the first crossroads between your father’s domus and his.

The atrium was loud with activity as you prepared for the procession. Your bridesmaids helped you drape your veil out of the way as the torch was lit from the hearth. The boys walking with you were chatting amongst one another, fighting over who got to carry the torch while the other two had to guide you by each arm. A camillus had arrived specifically for the procession, ensuring that you followed all of the proper religious rites lest you doom your marriage before it even had the chance to truly begin. Your matron of honor carried your distaff and spindle to represent your domestic life.

The evening was erring on the side of cold, the beginning of autumn rearing its head as you stepped out onto the street. You watched the torch flame flicker before you as you walked, more focused on keeping steady on the cobblestone due to your wine-induced tipsiness. The rest of the procession was giddy and loud behind you.

You let the boys on either side of you lead the way to Marcus’s domus, your heart rate increasing with every step. A shaky smile still found a home on your face–you were walking to your new home.

People on the street stopped to offer you their best wishes, some joining the procession despite not knowing where you were headed. You welcomed the company all the same. Their voices joined those of your wedding guests, singing songs that you had heard from other wedding processions.

Marcus waited for you at the first intersection, bags of nuts and sweetmeats and sesame cakes distributed between him and the two men who had accompanied him on his errand. His gaze remained only on you as the procession approached.

You dropped one of the three coins you carried at the crossroad, offering a silent prayer to Janus. The two groups mingled, Marcus and his companions spreading their treats through the crowd.

“Now what would my wife like?” he asked, walking backwards to keep up with you. He seemed almost boyish despite the way his hair was graying at the temples and lines marked the corners of his eyes. Even his steps seemed lighter than air.

“A sesame cake,” you decided. He arranged it for you, waving over the man who carried them over and selecting one for you.

Instead of giving you the cake, Marcus leaned in to kiss you. Unlike each time that day, he parted his lips, the kiss messy and clumsy as you both walked. But you were melting into it, your steps quickening as you pressed forward, letting your mouth open beneath his. He was shooed off by your bridesmaids, the girls tittering as he separated from you with mirth shining in his expression.

“You have to wait until we get her home, Marcus!” one of the men shouted, laughs echoing up from the procession behind you. Your cheeks warmed, the wolf-whistles making you bashful as Marcus waved them off with a hand.

“The sesame cake, Marcus,” you reminded him with a giggle. He made a soft noise of acknowledgement, breaking the cake in his hands in half before feeding you part of it. It was sweet on your tongue, making you hum as you chewed. He ate the other half, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before going to mingle with the rest of the procession behind you.

You were still being pulled along by each arm, the procession eager to deliver you to Marcus’s estate and begin the next party of many. The sheer number of people that had joined in astounded you, strangers shoulder to shoulder with friends and family. They were all merry as they sang songs and shouted compliments and well wishes. Marcus distributed treats among them, some of the nuts getting tossed up toward you for good luck.

It was not much longer until you reached Marcus’s domus. Guards were at the entrance, only allowing wedding guests through.

The boys had dropped your arms, lingering on the steps to the front door as your aunt wrapped her arms around you. “You are a very lucky bride,” she murmured into your ear, her chin hooking against your shoulder. The two of you swayed gently together.

“This house is grand,” you breathed, taking in the way the lit sconces and braziers shone through the windows.

Your aunt hummed, her head barely shaking as she disagreed with you. “No… well, yes, General Acacius has a very lovely estate,” she amended, squeezing you gently, “but I mean the way he looks at you. You may as well actually be Gaia.”

Your hands covered hers where they linked above your navel. “I doubt it,” you breathed, turning to look at her for a moment. Her gaze was warm, kind.

“I believe you have my wife,” Marcus said, making both of you turn around. There was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leveled his stare upon you. He took a step forward, hands twitching at his sides. “It is due time that you give her to me.”

Your aunt denied him, as was custom. “You will have to rip her from my arms, General Acacius,” she said, her hold on you tightening marginally. You never understood it, the show of a husband pulling his wife from the arms of her mother. Perhaps if it was your mother holding you, you would understand.

Marcus’s lip curled at the challenge. You pretended to desperately hold onto your aunt as he descended upon you, thick arms curling around your waist. Part of the game was pretending you were less than willing, that you could not imagine leaving the company of your family for this new life with your husband. You had seen other women tearfully clutch their mothers as their husbands wound their arms around them, earnest in their hesitance.

You would have let go right away if it would not have reflected poorly on your father. Instead you yelped, one hand grabbing Marcus’s forearm as the other still clutched your aunt. It took him one, two more good tugs to free you from her hold, his shout of victory echoing as he held you close.

Marcus pressed a quick kiss to your brow before setting you on your feet. A big hand remained pressed against the small of your back, nudging you along to the front door.

Bands of wool rested near each doorpost, a clay container of oil near the door. You had anguished over this portion of the ceremony, trying to practice smooth ways to unwind the wool before you had to do the real thing. You managed it smoothly, spiralling the red yarn over both columns to represent your domestic role in the home. The olive oil was warm on your fingers, the guests singing behind you as you rubbed the oil into the painted wood. You spread it across the edges of the door, the oil dripping down to your elbow until the door was relatively saturated to show the abundance you hoped for in your lives.

You wiped your hands off on a scrap of cloth looped through the handle of the jar, barely having time to properly set it down before Marcus lifted you into his arms. The screech you let out was unsightly for a woman of your station, but it only made him chuckle softly and he held you with an arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back.

“Are you ready to enter your home, meum cor?” he asked, maneuvering you just enough to be able to push the door open with one hand.

You looped an arm around the back of his neck, buzzing with excitement. “Do not make me wait longer, Marcus,” you said, eager for him to put you down. All you could think about was the weight of your body in his arms.

He just nodded, crossing over the threshold into the atrium of his home–your home.

It had been decorated extravagantly, beautiful bouquets of fresh flowers perfuming the air along with colorful fabrics and tapestries hanging from the walls with fresh tree boughs laden with fruit. You could feel the pride exuding from him as he set you down.

“Marcus, this must have cost a fortune,” you murmured, your fingertips pressed to your lower lip as you tried to hide your delighted smile. No one had ever gone through this much trouble for you before.

He took both of your hands in his as the guests streamed in, admiring the decor. “And I would spend it a thousand times over to see your lovely smile,” he said, his head bending toward yours. “I am glad you find it suitable–I admit I left most of it to my cousin’s wives.”

“And they did a very good job,” you murmured, squeezing his hands for a moment before you reached out to take the torch.

The boy ran off as soon as he handed it to you, returning to his parents just as your other escorts had. You took the burning torch to the empty hearth, lowering the flame to the kindling. It took a few moments to light, the warmth washing over you as the fire crackled to life. You prayed to Jupiter, running over the words you had practiced a thousand times to ensure that your hearth and home would be warm and safe.

You had no doubt that it would be.

The torch was quickly extinguished, tossed amongst the guests to scramble over. The unburnt torch was said to be a sign of good fortune, blessing whomever was lucky enough to finally grab it.

You paid the results no attention, hardly caring to find out who ended up capturing it as Marcus brought you to one of the one of the various tables laden with food, plucking a fig from the bunch. He turned the fruit over in his hand, scrutinizing it in the firelight.

“The first time you came to this place you were hardly able to stomach an entire fig,” he murmured, taking a bite of it. He turned to you as he chewed, leaning on the table with his hip. “And you are now my bride.”

There was a honey cake nestled amongst the rest of the food, sticky on your fingers as you selected it. “The stories of you are very intimidating, General Acacius,” you said, smirking playfully. You had been petrified of him at first, expecting a hardened, difficult general. “I thought you would be much more… strict,” you said, savoring the sweetness of the honey on your tongue.

It was his turn to laugh, his hand capturing you by the waist and pulling you in. He gently tugged at the woolen belt around your midsection, eyes flashing as though he meant to untie it then and there. “Strict? I can be strict if you wish it so,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, accepting the goblet of wine that he poured for you. “How about instead of that, we enjoy our party,” you suggested, tongue darting away to lick the droplets that clung to your lips.

The motion seemed to catch his attention, his mouth dropping open for a moment before he caught himself, swallowing thickly. You lifted a brow, unsure what to make of his expression before he cleared his throat, umber eyes looking almost like obsidian as he met your gaze. “I think that is an excellent thought,” he said softly, taking up his own goblet.

You lifted your cup to his for a moment, taking a long drink of it before your matron of honor emerged to pull you into a conversation, separating you from Marcus once more.

–

It was late when you finally found one another again, your breath smelling like wine and Marcus’s cheeks flushed as he secured both hands around your waist.

Midnight had long passed, the evening climbing toward the early hours of the morning as he dipped his nose into the curve of your throat. The strong bridge of his nose was a touch cold against your skin, making you squeak and shiver. But you remained in his hold.

“I think it is high time that I get my wife alone,” he said lowly, his voice more of a rasp than you had ever heard it. All of the talking and laughing was catching up to him, but you did not mind it.

You hummed, a smile finding its way to your face as you grasped his toga. “Alone? Then you should lead the way,” you breathed, anticipation starting to roil in your gut. You had received plenty of unsolicited advice on being alone with your husband, drunk matrons in attendance providing their opinions to you each time they spoke. Each conversation made your anxiety climb higher and higher as you became aware of your lack of experience.

It was expected of a bride to be less experienced than her husband, but you still found it intimidating.

Marcus guided you to his cubiculum, ignoring the good-natured jeers from some of your guests as he cut a straight line through the crowd. The sound of lyres and talking diffused as you ascended the stairwell to the second floor. A guard was posted at the door, stepping aside as you approached.

“Do not let anyone disturb us,” Marcus instructed, prompting the guard to nod silently before Marcus opened the door and ushered you into the room.

It was larger than you expected, the bed the dominant piece of furniture in the room as you looked around. There was a tree partially obscuring your view of the moon outside the window. The walls were elegantly painted, murals of cities you did not recognize adorning each panel.

Marcus pressed himself against your back, his fingers looping around the wool belt as he bent toward your neck. “I have been eager to get you here all day,” he mumbled against your throat, goosebumps running down your arms.

“You have?” you asked softly. He removed the flower crown and veil from your head, setting it on a nearby table. The weight off your neck was a relief. You sighed, letting your head roll back to rest against his shoulder as your eyes fluttered shut. The comfort of his presence was a shock, you expected to feel uncomfortable around him.

He made a sound of agreement, pressing his lips to your neck. “Of course I have, meum cor,” he said softly.

You bit your lip, trying to breathe through the bubble of anxiety in your chest. The past few hours had been spent agonizing how your first moments alone together would go–you had gathered vague information about what you were supposed to do, what he expected. It seemed that all of the women at the party had advice to give, informing you about what their husbands enjoyed.

With a deep breath, you turned in his arms. Marcus’s deep brown eyes looked practically molten in the flickering light from the hearth. He cupped your jaw in the scoop of his palm, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. Your fingers twisted into the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He let out a groan, a hand finding the small of your back as he pressed your body firmly against his. His trimmed facial hair tickled your skin as you clumsily followed his lead. You parted your lips when he did, letting out a soft noise of surprise as he licked into your mouth. His tongue tasted like wine and figs, twisting around yours and running along the inside of your teeth.

You pulled back, looking up at Marcus through your lashes for a moment.

Everything those women said kept running through your mind. You had to please him, to show that you were able to be the perfect wife.

You took a deep breath, teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you steeled your nerves. If you had anything less to drink you would have been frozen in place, but instead you sank to your knees, your fingers already having found the edge of his toga.

It seemed easy enough when they told you: take it into your mouth and suck until… until what? That part had been left out of your conversations, but you were sure you could figure it out.

Marcus’s hand found the back of your head, fingertips pressing into your hair. The stone was harsh against your knees, but you remained at his feet dutifully as you began to pull the folds of the crisp white toga out of the way. His legs were tanned and scarred, the wide muscle of his quads sporting a smattering of dark, curly hairs. You tentatively ran your hands over his skin, your palms smooth as your fingers curled over his knee and around the back of it.

Then he laughed. You felt your entire face get warm as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “What are you doing?” he asked, a smile on his face. He cradled the back of your head in his hand, tipping it further back so he could get a better look at you.

All of the air had been sucked out of the room, embarrassment winding around your chest. “Well, some of the women…” you said, trailing off as you pressed your fingers to your lower lip–a nervous habit.

He snorted, the sound making your face practically catch on fire. “Some of the women?” he prompted, crouching down in front of you. His other hand nudged your chin, keeping eye contact despite the fact that you wished the floor beneath you would open up and swallow you whole.

“Well, uh, they gave me advice,” you admitted, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It was mortifying to admit, the words sounding ridiculous out loud. You wrung your hands in your lap. The silence that hung between you forced you to babble. “I just… I wanted to be able to please you. You have much more experience than I do and I was worried that my naivety would disappoint you.”

Marcus smiled, his thumb gently touching the corner of your lip for a moment. “There is no chance that you would disappoint me, meum cor,” he breathed, so sincere that you could burst into tears.

“That…what you were just doing, there will be time for that later,” he said, winding his arms beneath yours as he lifted you to your feet. He half carried you across the room, your toes brushing against the floor before you were deposited on the bed. “This night I want to be for both of us, alright?”

You gulped, nodding as you looked up at him. The nod was enough for him, Marcus’s hands unbuckling your sandals and dropping them to the floor. He gestured for you to move further back onto the bed, the wool soft beneath you as you did as he said.

Your wide eyes followed his movements as he removed the ornamental parts of his attire, his cape tossed haphazardly over an upholstered chair along with his sandals and the laurel wreath you had weaved for him. It was hard to breathe as you watched him remove his toga, left solely in his cream-colored tunic

He stalked toward you like a wolf hunting its prey, grabbing you by the ankles and yanking you toward him. You let out a yelp that turned into a giggle as you landed on your back, your wedding gown riding up around your thighs.

“Tell me, my lady, what do you know of pleasure?” he asked, letting your legs fall to either side of his hips. He reached for the knotted belt at your waist–he was the only one allowed to untie it.

To your surprise, your bashfulness turned into mortification. You wanted to lie, to tell him that you knew absolutely nothing–that was what any good bride would have done. What you knew was inconsequential, your information was only self-centered rather than knowing anything about a man and woman…together.

“Do not be afraid, tell me the truth,” he breathed, the belt falling open. Your dress lost all semblance of shape and structure, the woven fabric falling loosely around your form as he began to pull it apart.

Goosebumps pricked over your skin, following the trails that Marcus’s calloused fingers left behind. “I, um, have… explored myself,” you admitted, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. There was a mosaic of the sun inlaid there, the tiles shining orange in the firelight. It was easier to study the colors they used rather than wait for his reaction.

He only chuckled, bending over you as he began to press kisses to your clavicle. “I am glad to hear that,” he said into your skin, the wiry hairs of his mustache forming to each word as he spoke. His lips trailed toward your sternum, the neckline of your dress splitting as he pulled away the fabric. “I worried you would be a bride that did not know up from down–it is a relief that you will be able to tell me what you enjoy.”

You tried to keep your breaths even, briefly squeezing your eyes shut as he pulled your dress down your arms. Your chest was bare, the press of his lips to the soft swell of your breast almost making you jolt. “Whatever you enjoy will be more than sufficient,” you said, tentatively threading your fingers in his thick hair.

His displeasure was hummed against the silken underside of your breast, dark eyes focused over the swell of it at you. You were pinned in place by the weight of his stare, gasping softly as his fingers brushed over one of your nipples. “I have been paying attention,” he said, wet presses of his lips finding the valley between your breasts once more, “and, while you have allowed everyone in your life to make your decisions for you, I will no longer allow that.”

“That is not true,” you protested, combing your fingers through his hair. His teeth nipped at the side of your throat, making you tilt your head to bare it to him.

“It is certainly true.” The words tickled, making you squirm. You could feel his smile against your throat. “Meum cor, if you want to do more than sleep in our marital bed this evening, you must tell me what to do.”

“Marcus,” you murmured, brow furrowing, “I cannot do that.”

It was hard to imagine asking for anything, let alone telling him what you wanted. No man had ever asked you what your needs were. No one had ever bothered wanting to know.

He placed a hand flat on the bed next to your shoulder, propping himself up slightly so he could look down his nose at you. “Then we will have a lovely night of sleep together,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss upon your brow before lying down next to you.

Your brow furrowed as his arm curled around your waist, reeling you in against him. He was warm against your side with his chin pressing against your shoulder. Despite enjoying the closeness, you could not stop the feeling of disappointment as you considered what your wedding night should have entailed.

You took a deep breath, swallowing thickly before you spoke. “I…I liked when you touched my breasts,” you admitted with a whisper. You covered your face out of embarrassment, your cheeks warm from the wine.

“Is that so?” Marcus asked, his smirk clear in his tone. You nodded sheepishly, glancing at him with wide, hesitant eyes. He captured your lips, voracious and hungry as he opened his mouth to yours. You were so distracted that you hardly noticed his hand ghosting over your naked chest until his fingertips closed over your nipple.

You whimpered as he tweaked the bud–it never felt as good when you tried touching yourself that way. One circle of his fingers had you keening against his mouth.

“Like this?” he asked, pinching it softly between his forefinger and thumb. You moaned softly, your thighs squeezing together beneath the remaining fabric of your wedding gown. The other breast earned the same attention.

“And this?” The touch of his tongue to your skin made your eyes roll, his mouth sucking at the bud making your breath hitch. It was all you could do to nod, his curls soft as your fingers tangled in them.

He had you whining and whimpering pathetically as he rolled to hover on top of you, lapping and rolling his tongue over your nipples. The sensation made your sex pulse between your legs, aching like a wound as he made a space for himself between your spread thighs.

“Marcus,” you mewled, squeezing his sides with your legs. “Please…” You trailed off before you could ask for what you really wanted, your hips tentatively rocking up toward his.

He chuckled, the sound muffled by the mark he was sucking into the side of your breast. “My lady, what do you need?” he asked, voice so sweet it almost made it seem like he was going to take pity on you. “You are asking me so nicely.”

Despite his pretend ignorance he started to pull away the rest of your wedding dress, sitting back on his knees as he yanked it down your legs and tossed it aside. There was not enough time for you to be embarrassed, his body pressing back down upon yours as the tip of his nose dragged in a line from your jaw to your collarbone.

“Marcus,” you huffed, petulant and needy. Your brows knit together, everything about you finding it near impossible to just ask.

He snickered, scraping his blunt teeth over your sternum. “You must ask, meum cor,” he reminded you, one of his hands grabbing the outside of your thigh and squeezing. The contact was enough to send shivers through you, your legs spreading in an attempt to coax his hand between them. “I will give you whatever you wish, lest you tell me that you want it.”

“I thought a husband was supposed to take what he wished on his wedding night,” you muttered, a bit frustrated. You tugged on the roots of his hair, just enough to earn a soft groan from Marcus. “Be the conqueror of the bedroom and all of those things.”

Another laugh, a slight shake of his head. “I have conquered plenty, my lady. Distant lands, foreign armies… I have conquered enough to last an entire lifetime,” his warm tongue laved over your nipple, “Now I wish to see you take in your own right. I am yours just as you are mine, there is nothing you could want that would frighten me.”

You wished his encouragement actually worked, but the words were still shackled behind your teeth. Instead you grabbed Marcus’s hand, fighting through your embarrassment as you brought it to your sex. You pressed his fingertips through the soft thatch of curls there to feel how wet you were.

Something dangerous made his expression light up. “You wanted me to touch you here?” he asked, already rubbing tight circles over the bud of your clit without prompting.

You keened beneath him, nodding through your light-headedness. His touch already felt drastically different than your own, an element of anticipation added to the mix. Each movement was a mystery, a divergence from the routine you had carefully crafted for yourself over many years of exploration. His calloused fingertips applied less pressure than you would have, moving in slow circles to tease you.

His other hand held your hips to the mattress, not letting you buck into his touch for added friction. Each time you tried his grip tightened. It took you a few moments to realize he was doing it on purpose, wanting you to tell him you needed more.

“I need more,” you breathed, your lashes fluttering.

He immediately acquiesced to your request, the increase in friction was enough to make you dizzy. “You are so beautiful,” he cooed. You were too distracted by sensation to even shy beneath his stare, letting him observe the way your brow bunched and mouth fell open. Your whines were breathy, your knees falling away and toward the mattress.

The only way you could describe how you felt was madness. Any semblance of control over yourself was quickly lost, or abandoned–you had no way to be sure.

Your sex clenched around nothing, the emptiness almost painful as you twisted the rough weave of his tunic in your hands. His grip on your hip relaxed, letting your hips stutter up toward his hand–a pitiful attempt to get him to slide one in you without having to vocalize the need. You should have known better.

“Do you wish for me to simply play with your clit all night, meum cor?” he teased. You wanted to wipe the grin off his face.

It was so hard to set aside the lessons you had been taught throughout your life: women were supposed to be meek and soft spoken and subservient. Your father had demanded your supplication, had taught you that your husband would require much of the same.

But Marcus was not what either of you expected.

He watched you sink to your knees in submission and lifted you back to your feet. You thought he would give you orders with ease, spell out exactly what he wanted from you without a detail spared. Instead he was asking what you wanted from him, begging you to make demands of him.

“I need…please, I need you inside,” you whimpered, the request making your cheeks burn. It was grating on your ears, your desperation unseemly.

If Marcus noticed, he kept it to himself. “We will get there, I assure you of that,” he soothed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It was shorter than you wanted, just a momentary peck. There was not enough time to whine for more before a finger teased at your entrance before pressing deep.

“Marcus!” you gasped, eyes widening as you felt him reach deeper inside you than you had ever been able to reach.

He shushed you softly, head bending to press his lips to your jaw. His blunt teeth scraped over the hinge of it as you let out another harsh breath. Your toes curled, spine starting to arch away from the mattress as he found a rhythm that elicited a moan he liked the sound of.

There was a spot you had no idea existed, the pleasure making your eyes roll each time the pad of his finger rubbed against it. Your breath hitched as his thumb stroked the swollen bump of your clit with the same dizzying pace. It was reminiscent of how you touched yourself, but his capable hands brought you to heights previously undiscovered.

One finger became two, the stretch a discomfort you welcomed. It was only for a few moments, your muscles relaxing into feeling full.

You were soaking his fingers, the obscene squelch of them inside of you was loud enough to make your cheeks burn.

But he was looking at you as though you were of the gods themselves, sent down from the heavens and into his bed. The thin rim of color around his blown pupils matched toasted hazelnuts, warm as they took in every detail of you. His stare was almost greedy as it dragged over every part of you he could see. It was caught on the way his fingers disappeared inside your cunt, wetness dripping onto the mattress.

Your voice broke as a third finger entered you, filling you up tight. Three was almost too much, your brows knitting together as your hips rocked, trying to accommodate to the size. The moan that came from you was pathetic.

“I know,” Marcus murmured, his free hand rubbing circles on the indent of your waist as he tried to soothe you. “You need to take three or I will not fit, meum cor.”

You could feel his cock pressing against the back of your thigh, but you did not truly make sense of the size of it until he said something. He did not miss the way your eyes widened, the brief expression of panic flitting over your features. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb running over the apple of it as he leaned down to kiss you.

Teeth clashed together as you opened your mouth to his a little too eagerly, his fingers tilting your jaw to correct it as he grunted. You clenched around his digits, walls fluttering to accommodate them and the steady rhythm he set.

“You are so close,” he muttered against the corner of your mouth, sounding almost desperate for you. You half understood what he meant, the tightening in your lower abdomen vaguely familiar. It was the point that you had always gotten frightened and stopped, thinking that you could not go any further.

Marcus had no such reservations, moving past what you thought was the point of no return with ease. You choked, your left leg starting to shake uncontrollably where it rested bent against his hip.

It seemed like a badge of honor to him, a breathtaking smile on his face as you withered beneath him. There was no way for you to speak properly, broken words spilling from your mouth as your mind went slippery with desire. Your hips moved as though they had a mind of your own, jolting with the motion of his hand, one, two, three times before it felt as if you had been struck by lightning.

“There you go,” he said, his voice as sweet as honey as he worked you through your entire body convulsing with euphoria. You squeezed your eyes shut with ecstasy, your cunt clenching around his fingers rhythmically as your world shattered.

Your mind was entirely elsewhere, moments feeling like hours as you desperately clung to Marcus. The wet smear of his lips against your throat revived you, blinking into the world like a newborn as his bedroom shifted into focus. His body held you steady through the aftershocks, your chest heaving as you tried to make your breaths even.

“Marcus,” you sighed, satisfied as you ran your fingers through his hair. He had not moved away yet, cupping your sex comfortingly.

You knew there was more, that more had to happen to truly consummate your marriage. Perhaps now the tirade of making you advocate for what you wanted would end, the focus having been on you for long enough that he would take what he wanted.

He pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion, removing his underclothes quickly. You were astounded as you stared at him–the thick muscle of his body were all the proof of a life spent laboring rather than someone chasing an aesthetic. You were practically salivating at the sight of him, fingers twitching as you languidly moved to your knees, grabbing for him in an attempt to pull him back to bed.

“Come here,” you breathed, hands finding his shoulders as you stretched up to capture his lips.

A breathy laugh was smothered against your mouth, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he knelt on it. He grabbed the fat of your hips, maneuvering with you so he was seated at the head of the bed. You were pulled toward him, shuffling closer on your knees. It was hard to hide the way your stomach flipped as he looked at you like you were the most delicious thing he had set his eyes on.

“You come here, meum cor,” he murmured, voice sounding rough as he squeezed you beneath the wide spread of his fingers.

“What is it that my husband wants?”

That seemed to pour pleasure into him, his grip marginally tightening as he pulled you so close that you nearly sat astride him.

“I want you to take what is yours,” he whispered, head tilting back so you could watch the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. One hand ran over your hip to the globe of your ass, giving you a swat that was more affectionate than harsh.

You looked between your bodies, a bit intimidated by his request. But you had been told that you needed to do everything your husband asked on your wedding night–you just had expected that he would have taken control.

Insecurity made itself an unwelcome guest in the room as you swallowed, looking down at his lap. His hand cupped your cheek, moving your gaze back to his. “You can handle it,” he murmured encouragingly, so earnest that you started to believe him. “I want to feel you around me.”

You nodded slowly, letting him guide you over his lap and position you properly. The press of the fat head of his cock made you shudder. You grabbed his biceps, an attempt to steady yourself as you began to lower yourself onto him.

It was a slow process, Marcus’s hands squeezing the thick of your thighs as he helped you. It made it hard to breathe, your mouth dropping open as you eased down every inch of him. It was hard to imagine a life where you were used to the size of him. Three fingers was not enough to properly prepare you, his cock stretching you wider and reaching deeper than you could have anticipated.

You whined as the backs of your thighs finally settled against his lap, his cock fully seated inside of you. It was like his cock was all the way inside your throat, making you choke.

“Fuck,” you cursed, your eyes squeezing shut. You could feel the hair on his thighs against your bare ass.

“You are doing so well, meum cor,” he praised as you tried to adjust to the feeling of him so deep inside of you. Your head was spinning, nails digging into his skin as you attempted to find a comfortable way to tilt your hips. His big hand smoothed over the small of your back, pressing so you rocked forward.

“S’too deep like this,” you groaned. He squeezed your thighs hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises left behind, his jaw clenching beneath his beard. It was almost too intense, part of you wanting to lift off of him just so you could catch your breath.

“I know,” he mumbled, his voice impossibly deeper. “It will feel good in a moment, I swear.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with him. The stretch was not painful, only making you feel uncomfortably full as you did your best to settle. He rocked you in his lap a few more times, the coarse hair at the base of his cock catching against your clit as he did. A gush of arousal dripped down his cock, making both of you let out a harsh breath.

“It feels good,” you sighed, holding onto his arms as you slowly lifted yourself up a few inches before sliding back down. You relished in the hollowed-out moan you earned from Marcus, his dark eyes squeezing closed.

It started slow, the grind of just an inch inside of you until you got bolder, sliding up and down Marcus’s cock. Your breasts bounced with each movement, matching the slap of your ass meeting his lap. His gaze could not find a place to land, cutting between your face, breasts, and watching his cock disappear between your thighs. Either way he was enchanted.

The feeling of being in control made your stomach twist, the press of his hands encouraging you to experiment between different motions and tilts of your hips. He was patient as you found what you liked, the muscles in his arms rippling beneath the skin as he assisted you until you found something you liked.

He grunted unabashedly, each broken sound lending you just how infatuated you felt. The sounds he made were deep, rugged. Huffs of breath and deep sounds in his throat as he started to thrust up to meet each bounce, your sweat-slicked skin slapping together.

“You are so tight around my cock,” he choked out, the deep creases between his dark brows visible as he tried to keep his composure.

“Mhmm.” You nodded, mind blank.

Each plunge of his cock carved out a space inside of you, making you let out a soft exhale as all of the air was forced from your lungs.

You only had a moment of warning, gone too far in a place of hazy, honeyed pleasure to recognize the tightening in your belly. It spiraled up through you like a knife, slicing you from root to tip with its heat. Your eyes sprung open, you were gasping and scrabbling to hold onto him, each movement frantic. “Marcus–” the rest of the sentence was lost to your moan.

Your legs shook from pleasure and the strain, thighs burning in a way that almost felt pleasant. It was impossible to do anything aside from fall forward, your head falling into the curve of his neck as you panted. His hands shifted your weight on his lap, thrusting up into you from below.

“I truly have the loveliest wife,” Marcus grunted through grit teeth, letting you melt in his lap as he planted his feet against the bed to fuck into you. You could tell he finally was moving how he wanted, his pace quickening as his groans and breaths became shallower, less restrained. The walls of your cunt fluttered and pulsed around his cock as you rode out your orgasm, shivering with each drag of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, your name falling from his lips. He forced your hips down against his, grinding into you.

It drew your eyes to open, lifting your heavy head back onto your shoulders as you found his gaze in the firelight. You touched the tension at the corners of his eyes with soft fingertips, the veins of his throat throbbing and sweat glistening over his brow. The dizzying need to tell him you loved him came over you as one hand smoothed over his throat, feeling his frantic breaths beneath your touch.

“Make me pregnant,” you mewled softly, the request bubbling from you before you could properly think it through.

It was enough, he groaned and went rigid beneath you, rutting up against you like a man possessed. He sounded like an animal, the moan barely contained in his throat as you felt his cock jerking inside of you. Each pump of his spend into you was hot enough to almost burn, filling you up until you were gasping.

He gathered you as close as possible, your skin sticking together with your sweat as you nuzzled into him. You fit like you were meant to be there, head beneath his chin and listening to the frantic beat of his heart.

You could see how the sky was just beginning to turn blue, the sun would be rising soon.

Marcus moved both of you, laying back against the bed with you sprawled over his chest. You pressed your fingertips over a scar across his ribs, imagining the sword that had slashed him. There was a lot you did not know about your husband, that you still had to learn.

He fell asleep first, letting your gaze trace over his profile unabashedly. The sun would rise over Rome, shine on the first day of your marriage as you attended another party of many to come.

You would finally enjoy a life you chose for yourself, Marcus at your side.

#marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #arranged marriage au #marcus acacius #general acacius #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #general acacius x reader #general acacius x you #marcus acacius x you #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius smut #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator fanfiction #reader insert

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ladybirdswritings · 6 months ago

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HUNTRESS, FIC — emperor geta x reader.

DESCRIPTION: the blood of the emperor’s brother is on your hands, a betrayed huntress facing death in the colosseum. your every move watched by the vengeful emperor who loathes you as much as you despise him. but amidst blood, betrayal, and survival, hatred begins to twist into something dangerous. NOTES - little enemies to lovers fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one;

The thrum of hundreds of drums cocooned your ears in an awful medley, vibrations snaking like vines across your very skin.

Here and now, standing before scorching iron twisting into mangled gates, you allowed a chill to kiss your skin.

You were afraid—very afraid—and for good reason. But even so, gladiators didn’t cower before their fate.

It was a good thing that wasn’t what you were.

This was all just an unfortunate consequence of one painfully violent decision.

For my brother… you had whispered into the chill of the winter season as you plunged a gold, ornate blade into the chest of the wrong ginger.

Sure, the younger one was no better than the older. Even so, it was not his crimson you had wished to coat your hands with, for he had not killed Pietro. Geta had.

And Geta would kill you too. Whatever growled beyond these iron gates was no better than a gruesome death.

“Huntress,” Lucien called, clad in bronze armor and pleated wraps. You winced.

“Don’t call me that.”

But he paid you no mind as he stepped forward, wrapping your lanky arm in a cuff of gold.

“It’s what you are, what you must be, if you intend to slay whatever beast lurks beyond these gates. Listen to me: do not be foolish in there. Do not give them a show. You run, and you hide in the very dirt if you must. Here.”

With a worried glance toward the guards, he hastily pulled out three violet berries and pressed them into your palm. His calloused skin guided your hand to wrap around them.

“This is poison. You squeeze, and it erupts into a sea of death. Use these, and you may survive.”

May.

It was too awful a word—too insignificant.

“Bring out the girl!” a horrid, broken voice roared to his many peasants. The iron groaned in deep complaint as the gates began to part.

It was then that you felt every bit the weak, fearful girl you truly were. Your doe-like eyes locked on Lucien’s. His palms gripped your biceps, a huff of frustration escaping him as he scanned your face—perhaps to remember it. Then he leaned forward to press a warm kiss to your forehead.

He was saying goodbye.

“You will survive,” he murmured against your skin. All you could do was nod with a gulp as he pulled away.

Facing the liquid gold rays of the sun now blinding you, you stepped through the gates.

Despise was not a strong enough word to describe just how much these people loathed you.

So destroyed over the death of half of their precious emperors. You scowled at the thought—the same emperors who kept them on pretty leashes.

Slickened tomatoes crushed beneath your boots as you limped forward. You were no better than Pietro here, and it seemed as though history was only going to repeat itself.

Bruised beneath the bronze armor, thirsty and starved, they had purpled your skin, nearly dislocated your hip, and robbed you of any sustenance that could aid you in this impossible battle.

They had cheated, just as they had with your brother in this awful colosseum.

You would die on the very same dirt as your brother had—your twin.

Even so, a vicious grin tugged at your lips when your eyes locked on the lone ginger emperor scowling down at you. His jaw was taut, his arms littered with veins, but his eyes—they gave him away. Dark. Exhausted.

Even if you were to stain his dirt with your blood, he would remain as you were now: a lone twin. His brother in the dirt, too.

Perhaps your revenge had not been such a disaster after all.

“Traitorous whore!” he screeched at you, and the peasants roared in agreement.

His words were no bother. You’d fight well enough—and when you died, you’d die with a smile.

“Bring out her death!”

Vibrations crawled up your calves as you squeezed the oak wood bow clasped in your hand—your only weapon.

The gates opposing you parted, welcoming two awful horns held back only by frayed rope and a growling man atop the beast.

“He shall impale you as you impaled my brother!” Geta growled from his castle above, his voice guttural and animalistic.

“BEGIN!”

His roar was so vicious you swayed on your feet.

Perhaps the bow was meant to deter you from survival, but you were grateful for it now. With your weak bones, you had no chance of surviving close battle. No chance of escaping a sword fight or a seething rhinoceros.

But your bow—you could fight from afar.

Thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum. The beast neared closer, working into a charge so vicious it drowned out the crowd’s excitement. You could feel Geta’s eyes scorching your skin.

He did not simply want you dead. He wanted you mangled.

“HUNTRESS—KILL THEM!” Lucien roared from behind the gates, snapping you back into the present moment.

Your purpled hands trembled as you grabbed an arrow and loaded your bow. You had to treat this as any other time—locked away in the forest with just you, the glades, and your bow.

A rhinoceros could be no different from a fawn, right? Animals—all the same. And you were starving now, just as you had been all the other times you hunted.

Closer, closer. You steadied your rapid breaths best you could— imagining doe-eyes approaching as opposed to horns and squinting as you found the place between the beast’s brows.

Closer.

Even closer.

A moment more and you’d lose your shot, so you released the tension-bound arrow.

Laughter—cruel, cold, and entirely at your expense—rattled the stadium.

Your eyes fell to the ground, where the arrow landed not two feet away from your boots.

No, no, no.

Your fingers trembled against the string. It was loose.

Bastard.

Your eyes flicked to Geta’s, cold and swimming with satisfaction. He had rigged your bow.

And the beast was still charging.

“HUNTRESS!” Lucien’s cry was lost on your ears as you steadied your feet. Your heart hummed like a bird in your chest.

You hissed as sharp pain licked the flesh of your wrist. Violet trickled from your cuff.

The berries.

Crying out in exasperation, you shook the berries free.

You would be impaled in a moment, but at least the poison would piss the wretched thing off.

With a cry, you crushed the berries in your palm, tossing the violet liquid into the air just as the horn grazed your bronze armor.

And you waited.

No darkness or light found you.

A screech so awful it could have burst your eardrums shook the colosseum. The beast reared back, thrashing in a violent dance before collapsing to the dirt.

Its tongue slack, its eyes white, it crushed the man commanding it.

You breathed then. For the first time.

As your eyes lifted, you found a flicker of awe in Geta's gaze-beyond his rage.

The colosseum roared in disbelief as Geta flipped the fruits and wine before him, storming away.

And you breathed.

Alive.

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slimybeth69 · 7 months ago

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Thirst: Part 3

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

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

Chapter 3 of 10: Slick

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

Rating: EXPLICIT -- Shameless smut with a little plot

a/n: NO SPOILERS to the new movie. I do introduce characters from the movie in the next couple chapters (plus a surprise guest), but they're based more on the historical Geta and Caracalla, and what I thought each character was going to be like based on the trailer and a quick wiki search on who everyone was.

This is cross-posted from my AO3. (there is one more chapter up now if you can't wait for me to post it here)

WARNINGS: dubious consent, ownership, loss of virginity, mutual mast., exhibitionism, voyeurism. Mentions of being a whore. Oral (f receiving).

It’s been several days since you’ve seen the General. Several— you’ve lost count of how long it’s been since he brought you gifts that could be inserted into you. You inserted that alluring glass toy into your forsaken ass so many times you’re basically a professional.

Where is Marcus Acacius? Hmm? Where is the man that paid for your freedom from that brothel— only to keep you locked up here in this room? Where is he? Gone for days at a time and you have no idea where he goes or what he does? That doesn’t seem fair to you. Not at all. He gets to go gallivant around Rome, and you get locked away from the world?

You’re not upset about being locked away. You don’t mind it at all, actually. Everything you need is brought to you and you visit the bath house once a day to clean and relax. You’re fed very well and given more wine than you know what to do with.

It’s the General that you’re yearning for. You need him more than you ever thought you could need another human person in your entire life…

Now here you are pining for a man who…leaves… do what?

Go find other brothel women to fuck while you rot in this room?

Your heart pangs.

Marcus cannot be out fucking other women without you! No, he hasn’t even fucked you yet. How is he going to go and fuck someone else while you’re waiting for him right here?

As your thoughts are flooded with him and the idea of where he could be, the doors to your chambers swing open and crash against the wall loudly.

“Morning Dove… the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.” Marcus’s voice booms and echoes in the large space.

You cringe and pull your shoulders up to your ears at the sudden but not unwelcome intruder. “What do you want?” You snap at him, the shock from his entrance still shivering down your spine and settling into your toes.

He looks at you sadly, his brows furrowed gently in disappointment. “You’re not happy to see me?” He stands at the end of your bed with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You look like a vision , as always.” Marcus winks at you.

You raise an eyebrow and look at him with suspicion. “Are you drunk?” You question, pulling the satiny sheets up to your chin, not wanting him to see your nakedness.

Marcus grins down at you and shrugs his shoulders.

You blink at him and then squint your eyes as they dart between him and the balcony outside… where the early morning sun is just starting to peek out over the horizon. “It’s so early…”

“Or very late!” Marcus corrects you with so much vigor it makes you jump in shock.

“You haven’t slept yet, have you?” You eye him, his crimson tunic looks slightly disheveled and his hair is a mess. “You’re…drunk from last night…still?”

Marcus blows a raspberry at you and waves a dismissive hand your way. “I am not drunk. I indulged and then went to go to my chambers to rest and couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You roll your eyes at him. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you. Weeks, Marcus… and you barge in here before the sun is even up and for what—”

Marcus smiles and grips the sheets that are covering you in both fists and tugs at them gently. You grasp them tightly in your hands and widen your eyes.

“What? You want my blankets?” You hold them closer to you as Marcus pulls them back towards him. You two are now pulling the sheet tight.

“Let go.” He growls at you but it is playful and lighthearted… there is a flash in his eye when he says this like it might be some kind of game to him.

“No.” You snap just as playfully as him. His eyes flash again…something you’ve never seen them do before. His strong arms flex before he yanks the sheet with more vigor. You weren’t expecting as much force, so you lose your hold on the blanket in one hand. It slips and one of your breasts, the peak hardened, is now exposed to him. His tongue dances across his bottom lip as gives the sheet another good yank.

“Marcus!” You scold him as you get your grip on the silk sheet and pull it with all your might back to your chest.

You get a foot of fabric to cover yourself with, but you think it’s because he let you have it.

“Dove!” He scolds you back but there is no aggression in his tone. He is playing with you.

Marcus has a stupid smile on his face that you’ve never seen before and now, he wants to play tug-o-war with your favorite blanket?

“If you rip this sheet I will be—”

“Gifted a new one? That is softer and more comfortable to sleep on? Is that what you will be? Showered with gifts and comfortable while you sleep, little Dove?” He gives you a handsome smirk, and in your distraction he jerks the sheets back and both your hands lose their grip.

“Marcus!” You scold him again in your newfound nakedness, remembering the brothel in which he ‘rescued’ you from.

The General is still smirking as he waits at the end of your bed with the sheets in his hands. “ Dove .” He coos to you softly.

You cover yourself the best you can with your hands and arms, and you glare at him. “Give me my blanket back.” You snap, the thought of him fucking other men or women without you rush back to your head. “Go fuck one of the other virgins you buy and hide away all over the city of Rome. I’m sure they’d be glad to see you.” You humph loudly and turn your body away from him.

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Marcus drops the sheet and then eases himself onto the bed. “Cara Luna, why do you say those things?” His voice is much softer and his rough, calloused fingers trail up your spine.

You turn further away from him and arch your back at his touch and scoot closer to the edge of the bed. “Go away. Go find comfort in one of the other women or men you choose to spend your time with when you’re not with me.” You feel the sting of tears coming.

Marcus sucks his teeth quietly as you wipe your eyes before they can fall. “I don’t find comfort in others.” His deep, calm voice does nothing to soothe you.

“I don’t believe you.” You scoff and roll your eyes even though your back is turned to him and he can’t see. “You haven’t fucked me— and you’re a man! Men need to fuck.”

Marcus inches closer to you and now you can smell the wine on him. “Aurelia, are you jealous?” His voice is velvet as he presses his lips to your upper back. You can feel the heat of his body behind you now. His hands rub the outside of your upper arms as he plants gentle kisses along your shoulder blades.

You scoff softly and roll your eyes. “Jealous of what? The other whores? No.” You tug your arm out of one of his hands, but he finds his hold quickly and grips you.

Marcus leans in so his lips are pressed to your ear. “Who is locked away in a tower where no one can reach her but me?” He growls softly, his massive hand sliding forward and over your shoulders.

You snort quietly but find yourself leaning against him and saving the feeling of his muscular chest against your back. “How many other people have you locked away all over Rome?” You huff softly as Marcus settles behind you, supporting your weight as you lean into him.

The pads of his fingers graze your collarbone while his lips move down to the nape of your neck. “Do you want to know why I bought you, Dove?” His voice sends a tingle down your spine and you do your best to suppress the shiver it creates.

“Because you want to take my virginity.” You roll your eyes again as his hands move lower and cup your breasts completely in his palms. His skin is so rough against the soft, suppleness of your tits. “Fuck.” It’s moaned under your breath as he adds weight to his touch and begins to drag his hands across your sensitive flesh. Your nipples pebble under his touch.

Marucs chuckles and nips at the curve of your neck gently, his teeth tease you and make your cunt throb and you can feel the wetness pooling between your legs. “Wrong, my Luna Flora.” His voice barely whispers. “I paid for you…” He pauses to kiss your neck gently and you tilt your head to give him more access. “I keep you locked away…” He murmurs with his mouth still pressed to your skin, “I come here and tease you…” He trails off now, his lips gliding up the soft skin of your neck and to your jaw.

This is the most he has ever touched you. The most his lips have ever been on your body and every nerve ending you have inside you is on fire. “Why do you do it?” You whine softly as he bites down on your flesh with a possessive intensity.

Marcus squeezes your tits and he pushes his chest against your back. Marcus unleashes your neck from his teeth and licks the spot gently. “ Because I can,” his voice is steady and confident now. “As the General, I have power and influence that stretch far beyond what you think you know.” He’s growling softly and his hands are still groping and squeezing at your breasts.

“What does that—”

Marcus pulls you into his warm, strong body tightly. “You weren’t given permission to speak, Luna Flora, you’ll remain quiet until I tell you to talk, understood?” His tone is firm and serious and you bite your lips between your teeth and nod. “Good.” His grip on your chest softens and he returns to massaging his hands across your breasts. You feel every callous and every line on his palm across your nipples. “Apologize…” His tone is softer now too, just above a whisper.

You turn your head to gaze up at him, his brown eyes are dark and glassy from the wine he had indulged in before he came here. “I’m sorry, General.” You mew to him softly.

Marcus respires softly through his nose and his eyes fluttering almost goes unnoticed but you’re so close to him. You feel the rumble in his chest before you hear him speak. “It’s a privilege to be in my company, did you know that?” He asks this as if you didn’t already.

You don’t respond. You just gaze up at him as his right hand leaves your chest and slides slowly down your stomach.

“You might not fully grasp the depths of my influence,” Marcus sounds like he might be mocking you, but you’re not sure– his words aren’t really registering to you right now as you watch his hand slide lower down your torso. “But, know that when I’m here–” His hands and words pause.

“What?” You whisper as his fingers scrabble at the patch of curls sitting atop your mound.

“It’s because I couldn’t resist temptation anymore—” His giant hand slides down between your legs and he palms your cunt gently. “I needed to come look…” Marcus flicks his tongue against the shell of your ear. “I needed to hear your voice,” his lips find your jaw and he kisses you gently. “I needed to taste you…” His two middle fingers part your folds and you gasp softly, feeling his intense warmth against your pussy for the first time.

“Marcus…” You plead quietly for more.

“I needed to give in to temptations… which I’m not allowed to do as a General.” Marcus pulls his fingers from between your thighs and there is a clear string of your slick arousal connecting your swollen, aching pussy to his fingers. It glistens in the morning light and your entire body blushes and starts to tremble against him in anticipation.

You watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them hungrily, moaning softly at your taste. “Move.” He demands with a low growl and nudges you to the side of the bed so you’re perched with your ass barely on the edge.

His warmth and strength is gone from behind you and you sit back on your elbows as he climbs off the soft, pillowy mattress and onto the floor between your legs.

Your breath catches in your throat as he hauls your left leg up on to his shoulder but you reach out for him and run your fingers through his mess of loose, dark curls.

He hesitates and looks up at you with a hint of annoyance in his expression. “What is it, Luna?” His voice mirrors his frustration as he kisses the sensitive skin on your inner thigh.

“I want to see you— really see you…” You murmur, gripping his hair gently and tilting his head, guiding his kisses down your upper leg. “Please, take your tunic off, General… let me admire you…” You coo to him softly as his teeth graze your skin.

Marcus chuckles and his lips curl up into a smirk. “Little Dove wants to see me?” He questions you with a raise of his eyebrows.

You nod and feel your heart start to race. “I’ve never seen you… really.” You admit to him breathlessly as his fingers glide across the skin on your other thigh.

Without a word he stands before you with the smirk still on his face, and with practiced fingers he unties the belt cinched around his waist. His eyes never leave yours as his fingers pull the fabric up over his thighs and then his hips.

You want so badly to look at his cock but you don’t, you gaze stays locked onto his as he slowly lifts the tunic over his stomach and chest.

Finally, once his face is covered by the tunic, you take in the sight of him. Every naked inch of him. His chest is broad and strong and covered in scars, old and new. His tight, muscular stomach, also marred with battle wounds, looks so soft. His entire body is sun-kissed and perfectly golden.

Marcus drops the tunic on the floor beside him and stands there so you can take him in a little longer. His left hand gently rubs his lower abdomen while his right hand hangs at his side lazily.

Your eyes trace every line and contour of his body until your gaze rests on his hardness, jutting from a thatch of dark curls. Your eyes linger on him, even though you’ve seen his cock before, it still makes your mouth water. The very tip of him is flush– almost purple and he’s already drooling.

Marcus takes a step towards you and is between you legs. He wraps his right hand around his cock and starts to stroke himself slowly. “Are you satisfied?” He asks, but you’re too focused on his dick in your face to answer him. You reach out and with your index finger swipe the bead of precum from his slit. Marcus shivers and sighs softly as you suck your finger into your mouth. He’s salty and bitter, but you’ve been dying to know what he tastes like.

Your eyes flick up to him and then back down to the sight of his fist wrapped around his throbbing cock. “Can I touch it?” You whisper, eyes darting between his face and his groin.

Marcus shakes his head and his hands fall to his sides as he sinks to his knees. “You’ll get to touch it, Dove. Soon enough. Patience.”

You want to protest but he’s inching closer to your cunt. Now you’re panting and he’s barely touched you, he’s just breathing against your slit.

His eyes flash to yours, “You smell so fucking good, Flora,” Marcus dives in, his tongue wasting no time to part your folds.

You gasp as the feeling of his mouth on you for the first time. He moves slowly but deliberately and with pressure around your clit as he positions your legs how he wants them; both knees bent with the ball of your feet on his shoulders. You push against him and arch your hips against his mouth.

Marcus groans as you roll your hips against his tongue. One of your hands finds his hair, grips it tightly and uses it as leverage to grind against his face. His hands find your waist and pull you against him, putting more pressure behind his tongue.

“Oh fuck, Marcus.” You groan loudly, unable to close your eyes or look away from his face. His mouth is warm and wet and perfect. It's everything you pictured it to be when you'd lay here at night, thinking of him. His cheeks hollow and he’s grazing your sensitive flesh with his teeth as he sucks on your clit. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Your hips move with the guidance of his strong hands.

Marcus pulls away from your pussy with a loud, wet smack and leans back in to deliver one last lick of your entire slit. “Fuck, you taste just as I imagined.” He pants softly. “Are you ready to touch me?”

You nod up at him, not even upset that he left you on the verge of an orgasm and dripping.

Marcus stands and straddles your hips and inches himself up until he’s practically sitting on your chest, the tip of his cock presses against your chin.

"I want your hands on me," He growls, his voice low and rough.. "I want to feel you stroke me. Worship me." He makes his cock flex and bounce, the head of it tapping your chin gently.

You wrap your fingers around his girth, marveling at the hard weight of him. It was everything you had thought it was going to be and more. He pulses in your grip, his skin silky and hot to the touch. Slowly, you start to stroke him, your hand gliding up and down his length. Marcus hisses in pleasure, his hips rocking into your touch.

"That's it," he pants, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. "Just like that. Fuck, your hands feel so good..."

you pick up your pace, pumping him faster. Your thumb swirls around the head, smearing his leaking precum. Marcus groans, his thighs trembling on either side of your ribs. His cock throbs in your fist, growing even harder.

You bring your other hand up to join the first, alternating your grips. One hand pumps his base while the other works his tip. “Do you like this? Are my hands very soft?” You coo up to him.

Marcus is panting now, his head thrown back at your ministrations. “So soft… don’t stop.” He moans.

There is a knock at your chamber door and it makes both of you jump.

Marcus growls quietly and his eyes snap down to yours. “Were you expecting a visitor?” He questions, sounding annoyed with you.

You pinch your brows together, your hands still moving on his cock and you shake your head. “I never get any visitors. Just you.”

The General bats your hands off his dick and you whine loudly in protest as he crawls down the length of your body. He quickly pulls the tunic back on over his head and creeps to the door with quiet feet.

There is another knock, more urgent this time. Marcus’s upper lip curls in distaste and he opens one of the two large doors as you scramble to cover yourself with the sheets.

It’s a man you don’t know, but he’s wearing full Roman army attire. Sword and all. Marcus eyes him and his nostrils flair. He says nothing to the man in front of him.

“Sorry, General… but Lady Lucilla has asked to see you.” The man says shakily.

Marcus doesn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t even shut the door when he leaves.

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Sorry not sorry for the slow burn/ cliff hangers. I love you all so much <3 All the likes and the reblogs on the last two chapters has me reeling. Thank you, I didn't think I'd get one single like, so I appreciate you guys all so much, honestly.

I'd also be willing... to like... take requests for lil one shots (under 2-3k) fluffy/ or smutty if anyone wanted to toss some into my inbox. <.<

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal characters #smut #fanfic #x reader #marcus acacias x reader #ao3 writer #marcus acacius takes your virginity #maybe #reader insert #unbetaed

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pascaloverx · 5 months ago

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I did not give the slightest f about lucius until I read Starve. Now I'm scrolling through his x reader tag like it's my job 😭 Idek who I am anymore. Your writing has hexed my brain into being attracted to paul mescal.

This is perhaps one of the best comments I've ever read about one of my fanfics. Knowing that I was able to make the character more attractive is truly fascinating. I hope to continue to please 🥳

#gladiator fanfiction #lucius verus x reader #hanno x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator fanfic #marcus acacius x female reader #lucius verus x you #female reader #reader insert #so thankful #can't believe it

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rainy-day-gracie · 7 months ago

Text

- wedding night -

A Venus & Mars mini series

pairing: General Acacius x virgin!wife!Reader

content warning(s): reader insert, no use of y/n, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, oral (f recieving), fingering, loss of virginity, piv sex, innocence kink, self indulgent praise kink, Acacius definitely talks you through it, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, discussion of future sexual acts, AFTERCARE because aftercare is hot, general acacius is in loooooove but doesn't know it yet haha, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: So guys. I saw Gladiator II and it was awesome and Pedro Pascal is the sexiest man alive (in my heart). However, this character's name is not Marcus. I don't know who lied, but we've all been fooled. So in this sequel, the general's name is just Acacius in order to stay at least a little bit true to the actual canon.

I definitely will be writing for these two again because holy shit I made this romantic and I love them so much.

Read wedding day here!

Read bloodlust here!

---

Acacius saw heaven in your eyes, a piece of salvation he never thought he might be able to grasp with his blood-stained hands.

He glanced down your body, wrapped beautifully in your white wedding gown, gold jewelry shining in warm candlelight. For a moment, he wondered Venus herself were tricking him with her immortal seduction.

But the blush of red in your cheeks, the shine of desire in your eyes, the beat of your heart in your chest....

No immortal possibly could mimic such evidence of true, temporary, and precious life.

Acacius had been with plenty women in his lifetime, had thought he understood what desire was.

I want you, you had said.

Now, he thinks he's only scratched the surface.

---

The general-- Acacius -- peered at you like a starving man at a feast, drinking you in, turning the wheels in his head of what he wanted to do first.

He grasped your hand in both of his, studying the golden band on your ring finger. Evidence of your gods-blessed union.

"I want to see you wearing nothing.... except for this," Acacius breathed, his voice low, and dreamy, like the words were slipping from him with no control.

"I'd like that very much," you said, trying to keep your hand from trembling under his touch.

"May I strip you bare, darling?" He asked, calloused fingertips fiddling with the clasp on your golden bracelet.

"Yes."

Instantly, the bracelet fell, and then the other, and then the other. Acacius' gentle touch drove you wild, methodical and sure. He stopped for a moment, glancing at the purity ring on your pinky, and smirked in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

Glancing back up to your gaze, he held your stare as he pulled the purity ring off. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from yours, letting you smell the sweet cherry wine on his breath.

"Kiss me," you mumbled.

Acacius' smirk remained. "Patience, darling."

He tucked the purity ring into a pocket of his tunic, and turned you around, so your back pressed against his chest. A sigh caught in your throat, realizing he had turned you both to face the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

"Answer me honestly," he said, trailing one of his knuckles down the exposed skin of your spine. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you shivered at his light touch. "Uh..."

"Don't you lie to me, now. It's a great sin to lie to your husband," he whispered, his teeth nipping lightly at your ear.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I- I've touched myself. I've touched... my..."

"Your cunt?" Acacius mused.

You nodded, your chest rising heavily.

"Did you… like it? When you touched yourself?"

"N-no. I've been told it is not ladylike, to... pleasure yourself in that way."

Acacius kissed the back of your neck, making you arch into his touch. "Oh, my poor darling... there's nothing more ladylike in the world. Don't worry... I will show you how."

A full whimper escaped you at that, and Acacius undid the knots of your dress with a chuckle.

The dress fell, leaving you in only your loincloth, tied at your waist. But Acacius was looking at something else.

His eyes were transfixed on your perked breasts, his mouth slightly open as he wrapped one of his hands around the soft flesh. A high-pitched sigh left your throat, and he reached around with his other hand to take hold of the other breast.

"Do you like it when I hold you like this?" Acacius murmured, his mouth at your temple. He twitched his fingertips to pinch your nipples softly, making you close your eyes in pleasure. "Look at me."

Snapping your eyes open again, he stared you down in the mirror with a small devilish grin. He pinched your breasts again, pulling an answer from you. "Yes, Acacius."

"Good girl," he praised, your cunt throbbing at the words. He let go of your breasts, untying the cloth at your hips until you were utterly bare before him, save for your wedding ring. "Lie down on the bed, darling."

He brushed a palm over your plush backside, guiding you towards the beautiful linen bed. Plenty big for two.

You obey with a shy smile, sinking into the blankets and pillows like you were always meant to fit there. Watching from your comfortable bed, Acacius loomed over the foot, undoing buttons on his tunic, and ties on his robes.

Your lips parted slightly as he exposed the tan, scarred skin of his chest, flickering candlelight bathing him in a warm glow. He studied your expressions like a hawk, watching for any sign of discomfort or displeasure.

As he unlaced the toga and loincloth, leaving him as bare as you were, you had to keep yourself from gasping.

His cock hung heavily between his legs, not even fully aroused but still bigger than anything you had anticipated. He wrapped a hand around his manhood, smirking at your expression, but mercifully saying nothing about it.

“I am curious, my wife,” Acacius began, his voice a rumble. He pulled himself onto the marriage bed, caging you in the sheets with his arms and legs straddling. His eyes never left yours. “What did they say about me? When you learned of our union, what whispers crossed your ears?”

You licked your lips, speaking suddenly a challenge. “Um, that you w-were brave…”

Acacius leaned down, pulling one of your legs over his broad shoulders.

“…and strong…”

He mirrored the motion with your other leg, leaving your weeping cunt exposed.

“…a-and…”

Acacius paused, waiting for your answer. “And?”

“General, I shouldn’t speak ill…” you moaned, wondering if one could combust with desire.

“Tell me the truth, darling. Or you won’t get what you so eagerly want.”

“Th-they said you were cruel,” you stammered, desperately, any wall of self preservation coming down. “They said you took anything you desired, washed your hands with blood, and violence was the only language you spoke. Your rage eclipses that of Achilles, and your eyes blacken every time you raise a banner. You are of Mars himself, shedding blood like you were born to it.”

Acacius’ smirk from between your legs was wicked, and he broke your gaze for the first time since lying on the bed.

He studied your open cunt with a glazed expression, like he was lost in the pleasure of staring at your slick desire.

“If I am of Mars then you are of Venus, my darling.”

His words filled you with affection, the way his knees bent on the bed almost like he was worshiping an altar between your legs.

“So pure…” he murmured, as if the words had slipped from his lips.

Your back arched like a bow as he licked a stripe up your soaking slit, sighs escaping from your throat.

Acacius hummed with delight, fucking you on his tongue lazily, drinking your desire like nectar of the gods.

You buried your hands in his hair hesitantly, unsure of what would be pleasing to him. In all the times you eavesdropped on the married women of the court, never once had they mentioned anything like… this. Never once had they mentioned any of the overwhelming pleasure racking every limb of your body. Never once had they mentioned the lightning erupting over your skin with every brush of his calloused palm.

Acacius trailed his hands down your arched torso, cupping your breasts as his mouth traced patterns over your cunt. Your breathy moans made him chuckle into your flesh, the vibrations making you lift your hips with pleasure.

Throbbing built in your pussy, clenching around his tongue as your desire jumped at every brush of his lips.

“A-Acacius, gods…” you cried out, throwing your head back as a pinnacle raced towards you.

“Relax, my darling,” Acacius breathed, bringing one of his hands down to rest at your soft inner thigh. “I’m going to put my hands on you now.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, unsure of what it was you were begging for.

“Tell me if it becomes too much,” Acacius said, and his hand on your thigh moved.

The gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your slick folds had you gasping anew, pulling lightly on the locks of his hair.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Acacius mumbled to himself. “I have half a mind to just keep you like this.”

You whined in protest, your hips chasing his touch.

“So needy for a virgin.”

You threw your head back as his finger pushed past your slick folds, reaching spots inside of yourself that you hadn’t known existed.

“Oh, so tight, my love. You truly are pure.” Acacius curved his finger, brushing against something spongy, and sensitive. A guttural moan escaped your throat, and he laughed softly. “When the pleasure peaks, do not fight it. Let it take you away, somewhere only you and I exist.”

You nodded at his command, closing your eyes as your head sunk into the linen pillows.

Unrestrained cries erupted from you as he pulled his finger out, and in, and out again, hitting that sweet spot with every push inside of your aching cunt.

When he pressed his tongue to the bud at the top of your core, he pushed a second finger deep into your slick, making you wonder if the gods truly did become man. The stretch of his fingers pricked a pain deep within, making you clench tighter around his calloused fingertips. A slight brush of his rough facial hair against your core was your ultimate undoing.

You called out his name as the pleasure rushed down your spine, into your belly, and built in your desperate cunt. He knew it, too, and continued to thrust his fingers deep inside with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue licked against your clit with hunger, tipping you over the edge.

Cries escaped your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you, every muscle in your body going taut as the desire took over. Your cunt clenched tightly, chasing his fingers, and your spire curved with tension as the wave of lust claimed you.

Acacius watched with a lazy smile as your core squeezed with your orgasm, evidence of your desire dripping off his lips.

“Acacius… Acacius…” you breathed as the climax subsided, your body relaxing into the bed once more.

“How do you feel, darling?” Acacius asked, crawling back up to press his nose against yours. His brown eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with adoration.

In place of an answer, you buried your hands in his curly, soft hair, pressing his lips to yours. He responded instantly, capturing your mouth with the passion of love and war.

His tongue pushed against yours, pure want seeping from every brush of his lips against yours. You gasped as his hands cupped your hips gently, like he was making sure you were a solid thing he could hold in his hands. Like he was worried you might slip through his fingers.

“I want more,” you whispered against his mouth, and he nodded with his eyes closed, like he was dreaming.

“It will hurt for a moment, but I will be gentle with you,” Acacius breathed, trailing light kisses against your throat. “Tell me when there is pain, or if you wish to stop.”

You nodded against his temple, and he pulled his lips back instantly.

“Say you want me, darling. Say you will tell me to stop if you wish.”

The intensity in those brown eyes, the desperation, had you squirming with desire once again.

You held his face in your hands, tracing your thumb against his rough stubble, studying him.

Acacius' nose was utterly Roman, looking like it had possibly been broken once or twice. Every mark on him was evidence of a man that had seen the Underworld and walked away, but not without a few scars to show for it. Though he had been nothing but gentle with you, there was no doubt he could live up to his reputation of bloodletting.

Still, you held him close.

"I want you, Acacius. I will tell you to stop if I wish to." There was no hesitation, no tremor in your voice.

He sighed in relief, reaching down to his hard cock and bringing it between your legs. You whined at the sensitive touch, and he grunted at the slickness of your folds.

"So wet for me, darling, so perfect," he moaned in your ear, guiding the soft flesh of your thighs to wrap around his hips.

Tentatively, he rubbed his cock up and down your core, getting you accustomed to the blunt feeling. You whined breathlessly, near begging for him to fuck you already.

"Patience, darling. I need to go slow to not hurt you," he mumbled.

The blunt head of his cock pushed past your sensitive folds, and you dug your nails into the strong muscles of his back.

Acacius let out a guttural groan into the heated skin of your neck. "So wet, and tight."

You called his name like a prayer, your head tossed back in pain and pleasure. Over and over again, you called his name.

"A little more, easy, easy..." Acacius moaned, pushing further into your virgin cunt.

You cried out in pinching desire. "S-so much, Acacius..."

"I know, darling. We're halfway there."

You held tight to him, his rough hands on your soft skin distracting you from the stretch of your cunt around his cock. "H-halfway?"

Acacius chuckled, holding still inside of you to let you adjust. "You feel... divine. So, so perfect, my sweet wife."

A high pitched moan escaped you as he pulled back slightly, kissing your neck as he pushed farther in. You clenched around him, and his lips on your clammy skin sent a fresh wave of lust panging though you.

But Acacius stopped, and you gasped in pain again, as if he had hit a barrier in your core he couldn't push past. You knew he could bottom out if he so wanted, but not without tearing you deeply.

Instead of pushing forward, he stayed where he was inside of you, tracing his nose along the curve of your jaw.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost like he didn't mean for you to hear his words.

"Do you want to know what I want, darling?"

You were too breathless to answer.

Acacius continued. "I want to fuck you so well that all of Rome hears you calling my name. I want to mark you with my mouth so you may look in the mirror and think only of me. I want fall to my knees and thank the gods that gave you to me. But for now, my darling... I want you to come on my cock with your most divine cunt."

Your cunt, as if on command, fluttered, and you moaned as he was able to fill you to the hilt without a pinch of discomfort.

"Oh, yes," Acacius whispered, his tongue darting out along your pulse point. You cried out in pleasure as he shifted inside of you, holding tight to his strong back.

"You... are... perfect, darling," he panted, thrusting slowly, in and out, in and out. "So warm, and tight..."

"Acacius, please..."

"Please... what?" Acacius teased, biting your bottom lip slightly as he pushed back into you.

"More... more," you said, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

Acacius responded in kind, chuckling at your desperation. "As my lady commands."

His thrusts into your aching cunt deepened, becoming harder as you grew needy for his strength. You tossed your head back with a high-pitched cry when he was able to hit that perfectly sensitive spot inside of you, and the reaction made him even more ravenous for you.

"Oh, you take my cock so well," Acacius praised, the words making your cunt clench around him. "So, so good, my darling."

As if he knew what you needed before you did, he pulled his chest away from yours, sitting up on his knees while thrusting into you. He looped his wide arms underneath your spread legs, angling you upwards on his thighs and pulling your hips up off of the bed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you arched your back off the sheets with a shriek of delight.

"Acacius, Acacius," you cried out, the new angle sending him deep into your core, hitting spots you hadn't even known existed.

"That's it, say my name," Acacius said with a smirk. "Say my name when I fuck you, tell all of Rome who is making you feel this good."

You couldn't stop, the falling of his name from your lips dripping like sweet honey. All you could feel was the sweat of his skin against yours, the calloused of his hands as they gripped your soft thighs closely, and the depths of your core his cock was able to reach.

"You're going to cum for me," Acacius ordered, his words coming out in pants of breath. "You're going to cum for me, because you're a good girl. You're a good girl, aren't you? Letting me fuck her virgin cunt so nicely, such a good girl..."

At his praise, your cunt tightened around his cock, back arching like a bow. As you came, he pressed a calloused hand into the flesh above your pelvis, the pressure making your high all the more intense. You cried out his name, over and over again, the two of you becoming the only people in the world as the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you.

Acacius' thrusts into your aching core sped, became less focused, and you knew he was losing control himself as you came apart underneath him. Your name fell from his lips as he pressed his hand further into the spot below your belly, where his cock seemed to bulge into his palm as your cunt pulsed around him.

"Such a good girl, such a good wife," he moaned. Only when your core could only twitch in response to his strong thrusts did he slow, leaning back over you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

A warmth pooled within you, evidence of his pleasure. You didn't know if you'd ever felt such an intimate connection with anyone as you did with him, his kiss burning a brand into your heart as the heat of passion faded.

Acacius pulled away after a moment, breathing heavily against your throat. "Hold still a moment," he warned. His palms pressed against your hips, his cock sliding from you with a slight sting. You followed his advice, your legs feeling weak and shaky.

You studied him as he crossed the bedchamber to the washroom, his broad back dimpling with the movement. Returning with a clean cloth and a faint smile on his lips, the dimple in his cheek made your heart swell as he saw your sprawled body on his massive bed.

"Feeling comfortable?" Acacius asked, eyebrows raised with amusement.

You nod, watching him as he crossed over to you, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he carefully wiped your messy core.

Breaking from your lips for a moment, he pressed his nose against yours, and you cherished the gentle, intimate gesture.

"Shall I call the servants for a hot bath?" Acacius mumbled, tossing the cloth aside.

"A hot bath sounds divine, but only if we may take one together," you reply, slightly giddy.

Acacius furrowed his brows in confusion. "What is making you laugh, my darling?"

You kissed him again, long and slow. Time stood still, and it was as if you could physically feel the bond forging between the two of you, forging in a slow burn of a crackling fire. It was warm, and easy, and comforting.

You broke away, studying him in his eyes. "You are simply... not what I expected."

Acacius smiled, that damn dimple curving in his cheek.

The most feared general on the continent.

Your husband.

Acacius kissed your forehead. "You, my darling, are everything I've been dreaming of."

---

taglist (people that asked to be tagged in part 2): @marianastudiesart @joeldjarin @fallout-girl219 @shantellorraine @lanadelslay69-420 @pedrofan

my request box is open! would love to hear y'all ideas for Joel, Acacius, Javier, or Oberyn :)

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queers-gambit · 6 months ago

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The Strength in Honor [ part 1 of 3 ]

prompt: ( requested ) embarking on a marital affair with your older sister's husband. strength to those with honor.

pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 7.3k+

note: welcome back, my Roman Empire; my OG muse -> second note: author's only seen both movies once so AU timeline 'cause wonky brain is wonky

warnings: spoilers! AU timeline, kinda reader insert? flashbacks, reader knew Maximus, Aurelius reader, essentially nicknamed reader, cheating, sneaking around on your sister / family angst, depiction of secret abortions, romance, smut, NSFW, is this "feral" idfk, cursing, some implied age gap, height difference, use of Y/N, set up for a dramatic part two that will not be necessary to read, author interchanges Muse's names on purpose, drama, talk of impregnating reader, relationship angst, established relationship, very brief depiction of injury / blood / medical phenomenon (tending to Lucius' cut, putting in a stitch).

part two: read here part three: read here

Year 180 AD

Blood of Germanic natives still stained under his nails, armor latched tight, sheen of sweat cooling on his brow as the heat of the fire's flames he stared into licked his knees. There was confusion marring his thoughts, brows knit towards his newly broken nose that ringed his nostrils with dried bloody flakes. Marcus Acacius was faced with an impossible decision and prayed the flames before him would reveal any truth.

A heavy hand clapped his shoulder, startling the young soldier. "At ease," a deep, baritone voice rumbled in amusement; General Maximus Decimus Meridius shuffling around his comrade a moment to take a seat on the fallen tree trunk a foot or so from Marcus.

"General," Marcus greeted.

"It's late, soldier."

Maximus watched Marcus glance up to the night sky, blinking thrice before nodding with overturned, pursed lips noting, "So it would seem." His gaze returned to the flames, wondering, "Does sleep elude you, too, General?"

"Well enough," Maximus confirmed. "Though I am oft haunted by the events on the battlefield. You've a different look about you tonight."

"Am I that transparent?"

Maximus snorted, admitting, "No. In truth, I overheard what the Emperor offered you. What an honor, my friend."

Marcus nodded absently, agreeing almost inaudibly, "An honor..."

"Do I detect a hint of distain?"

Marcus looked up sharply, "Of course not, General, I did not intend to sound - "

"Be at ease, Marcus, my friend," Maximus chuckled, "we are alone here, you may speak freely. Come, tell me why I had to scour the camp to locate you. Why does the proposal to the daughter of the Emperor send you into isolation?"

Marcus sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees; the flames silent in their wisdom, only spewing muted whispers of ash. "I love her," the accented soldier spoke quietly, sharing his secret with the fire.

Maximus sighed, "Lucilla is a woman of great beauty - "

"With respect, General," Marcus interrupted, turning to look at Maximus with near glassy eyes, "but while Lucilla is, indeed, beautiful; I fell in love with Venus."

Now, General Maximus smiled brightly, genuinely, softly identifying your name, musing, "The People's Princess."

Marcus chuckled, "Mine own Morning and Evening Star."

"One helluva woman."

"I'll say - she kneed me upon our first meeting," Marcus grimaced, hand to his crotch in phantom pain.

"Ah," Maximus laughed boisterously, "sounds like her. A true gem of a lady, rivaled by none."

"The fact that she even looked at me again after that..." Marcus had a far off look, one Maximus recognized well as one he adorned during his own affair with Lucilla. "Let alone that she... She loves me, too, Maximus. I know she's young, but what a feat to have her love. Yet, now..."

"Yet now the Emperor would have you marry his widowed Lucilla instead," Maximus finished, recalling the conversation he heard. "He needs an answer by morning, when you are to ship off once more to bring together his idea of Rome. The timing is... Less than ideal, I'll admit."

"How can I tell the Emperor no?" The soldier begged his General, almost startling him. "Maximus, please, you say you are my friend - please - how can I say no to marrying the Emperor's widowed daughter, and in the same breath, ask to marry his youngest? The very embodiment of Venus herself - whom all men and women covet?"

Maximus sighed and reached out to grab the solider's shoulder, giving a small rustle while asking, "Well, what did you tell the Emperor?"

"That he honors me with such an offer."

"And are you a man of honor, Marcus Acacius?"

"I endeavor to be."

Maximus sighed deeply, giving his man's shoulder a harder, more meaningful shake, "Then honor our Emperor - honor Rome - and accept his proposal. Lucilla's boy will need a father."

With one last smack, Maximus dropped his hand from Marcus just as the wood burning into embers crackled and hissed as if to input its opinion. Neither man listened.

"How am I to tell Y/N?" Marcus asked desperately. "The woman who loves me when I am nobody, with nothing? Who supported all I've done or wanted to do? It'll break her heart."

Maximus snorted in amusement, shocking Marcus, quickly assuring, "Ah. Do not underestimate her, she knows best what is expected of each of us, what our duties must be and where loyalties lie. Worry not, she will understand - better than any, of that, I can promise."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because she once told me..." The two leaned in, Maximus gripping Marcus by the back of the neck to intimately hush, "There is Strength in Honor. And I know no stronger woman than she. Minerva in Venus' body, eh?"

16 years later Year 196 AD

You were draped in sheer white fabric, latched by shining belts and broaches of glimmering gold to match the gem-crusted jewelry dangling from your neck, wrists, and earrings. Different sized rings sat on freshly manicured fingers, moisturized in the finest of oils, a delicately crafted circlet of ivy crowned hair coiled in ringlets.

You waited in the ranks of other persons of high society ready to greet the procession of officers returning from their gruesome efforts abroad. Despite your position in society, you were - unfortunately - still a woman and women were never listened to; so, you leaned into your peer-appointed high-societal ranking and did your best to influence the Senators of the Republic. It wasn't exactly hard, being the People's Venus, the People's Princess, the People's Empress, the Should-Be Empress, or even the Never Empress - a nickname you weren't so fond of. You were the voice of the people and most had enough sense to tolerate you, else risk the wrath of the whole of the city in riots.

Twin Emperors Geta and Caracalla knew to keep you close, a symbol of peace and prosperity to the people; a puppet on strings, free for them to do or command as they pleased with no complaint from you since your only safety net, your father, Marcus Aurelius, has long since passed. Yet, despite their vivaciously open sexual appetite, the Twins never dared touch or disrespect you by soiling your innocence - hence the symbolic white drapes you wore, being unmarried. Little did anyone know, with the incineration of your safety net from your father's death, anew shall be woven.

When the heroes of Rome returned, you were called upon to greet the soldiers - and their officers, including the General. Floral petals snowed from the sky, and from your elevated position, watched as the love of your life was charted through the city on a chariot - wearing pristine matching white.

He waved to the crowds, honored by the hearty reception thrown to celebrate both his return and victory. You were merely relieved at the sight of him - whole, no visible wounds, and most importantly, alive. You were part of the welcoming party, a face people expected to see as despite not being married to either Emperor, they considered you their Empress. Something your older sister, Lucilla, did not particularly like - yet would never voice.

You waved from a private balcony, greeting the people cheering for their returning warriors. While a symbol of purity, white also symbolized victory - two sides of your coin, as cocky as that may sound. To the public, your innocence was still intact and yet, maintained secret hold of the man you loved. You slowly strolled along the banister, keeping par with the chariot hosting General Marcus Acacius, his eyes finding yours and holding for several long moments. You rounded into the palace's courtyard, waiting in the wings and simply watching Marcus ascend the stairs to greet the Emperors and briefly detail his successful campaign abroad.

You watched from the crowd of Senators, eyeing the General subtly to suss out any smaller injury he might've sported; ignoring the fact that his wife, your sister, was absent. After he properly greeted Emperors Geta and Caracalla, and presented the trophies (or spoils) of war, he was dismissed with a fresh, weeping cut to his neck. You felt something stir in your gut, making sure to catch Marcus' eye again before smirking and slinking away to attend your royal appearances.

Due to your father's legendary influence, corrupted brother's demise, and sister's emotional distress, the people turned to you for guidance and wisdom; part of why Geta kept you so close, having an unhealthy attachment to you as Commodus once did Lucilla. He did not mind your abrupt departure, watching you exit the royal grounds with your usual set of guards to begin daily duties around the city.

As selfish as it sounds, this was how you kept your place in a kingdom no longer your own: by getting your hands dirty. To work alongside citizens; to carry your own weight and soil pretty white fabric to facilitate a deep love from the people. Your most popular implementation was the law that food from the palace shall be sent to orphanages first, then what was left to the less fortunate. Whereas the Senators viewed your charity as a sign of weakness, Geta only allowed it because of his unsettling obsession, but you cared little for their opinions as it meant the food was not a waste and you secured your safety amongst the citizens of Rome. They knew your face, could voice their woes, found a friend in you rather than a politician.

Princess of the People, indeed.

Knowing the upcoming Games would be the official celebration of Rome and today was to be used to update the politicians on their success, you ended the day by mixing and mingling with the other persons of influence before returning to the private, personal villa armed with men hand selected by the General himself. They bid you a good evening as you passed, swiping the shaw from your shoulders with a heavy sigh of fake playing nice with the Emperors and others.

Their craven ways rubbed you wrong after your brother, Commodus, wrongfully usurped your father's throne after his passing; leading to a broken bloodline you were unsure how to fix. Though you understood why, you tried not to judge your sister too harshly on her decision to send your nephew, Lucius, away. Though it was a struggle the longer you lingered in the company of the Twin Emperors.

"My lady," a voice greeted, startling you enough to gasp and stumble back into a spare table in the middle of the room you passed through; knocking over a golden bowl of fruit.

"Marcus!" You snapped, seeing him remove his cloak's hood from the doorway he'd entered from with a smirk. He neared you as you caught your breath, hand to your chest, demanding, "Why have you come? What're you - you - you cannot be here, Marcus!"

"'Cannot'?" He repeated, slowly stalking down the stone stairs. "I do not remember asking permission, Princess."

"Yet still, you are denied, General," you scoffed, glancing at the other (empty) known entrances. "You risk everything by coming here now. Why? Have you not had your fill of adrenaline?"

"I had to see you, there is nowhere else I am to be but here with you, my lady. Are you displeased with me?" Acacius questioned, stepping in front of you with his hands once clasped in front of him, lifting to grip your waist.

"Never," you breathed, petting down his armored chest, "but my sister will be expecting you - you should not be here. If anyone were to discover us, there's no excuse we could offer."

Marcus sighed deeply, "With respect, my star, Lucilla is not my priority. She did not bother to attend the ceremony, it isn't like she's wanton to see me." His forehead rested on yours, "But I could not bare another second without you - "

You silenced him by lifting onto your toes and searing a kiss to his lips; holding the back of his neck for balance. His calloused hands tightened on your ribs, groaning in relief when your lips spread and both tongues instantly began their slippery dance of dominance. Nails raked into the short curls at the base of his head, other hand drifting to hook around his shoulders.

Waiting for a natural lull, you pulled back, "I've missed you."

"I swear to you, no more than I've missed you," he hissed, hands dropping to trace the curve of your bottom only to grip both thighs and heave so you were pushed back onto the round table the fruit toppled from. He didn't have to, but still spread your legs to stand between them; mouths open, tongues licking into one another. "I came straight here - after Geta dismissed me," his lips latched to your neck, licking, biting, careful not to leave any visible marks, "I had to, I needed to see you. I cannot stand the distance that curates between us."

"As much as I want to take our time, Marcus, you know someone will come looking, my love," you cautioned, sliding closer to reach for his many belts and latches. He began to assist you.

"Being why I chose your guards as I did," he chuckled, both moving frantically to shed his armor. "They're discreet, they'll hold off whoever may come and give us enough warning, too."

"Even from your secret tunnels?" You teased, working now on your broaches and belts as he stripped bare.

"Even there," he assured, nudging your hands away to bunch together the skirts of your dress and bundle them around your waist. "Thank the Gods," he breathed when your bare cunt was exposed to the cool night air; fingernails raking down the outside of your thighs to caress either knee to spread you further.

"I love you, Marcus, but if you're not in me in the next 30 seconds, I swear to every God - "

His laugh was borderline cruel, taking his free cock in hand to pump himself to full life. "Let me see you," he demanded, settling your hips at the very edge of the table while you freed your chest from the confines of your dress. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, lathering his cockhead at the entrance of your progressively dampening cunt. Marcus' upper lip snarled as he took a moment to swipe himself from cunt to asshole, back, again, then notching and checking, "Good?"

"Please," you begged with a nod, yanking him by the shoulders so he pushed fully into you until sheathed like his sword deep within the enemy. Yet your wet warmth was no foe, but a succulent vixen that left his head spinning, heart hammering; totally addicted and coming back for more. Yet the way he instantly chose a feral rhythm to pound into you on a random table instead of the bed would've made any spectator think he was working out some kind of anger. Though hard to explain, you still felt every inch of his care, devotion, and love, but felt just as panicked to fuck him after his long trip away.

His movements left you absolutely speechless, repeatedly impaling you and feeling as if you were being fucked through the table; only able to hang on for dear life. "Oh, fuck the Gods," he panted, lips finding purchase along your collarbones, "needed this, needed this so fuckin' bad - just needed you. You feel heavenly, my love, shit, how're you this perfect?"

You could barely respond, "I have the perfect man to impress."

"Never need worry about that," he chuckled, coat of sweat layering both of your skin. "Fuckin' obsessed with you, my star, oh, fuck, just look at you," his one hand rose to curl around your neck, head instantly falling back to let your hair tickle down your spine. "My Venus, my perfect lady, my love," he grunted, guiding your torso back to rest on the face of the table so he could paw messily at your bouncing breasts.

"Mar-Marcus," you begged, writhing from the pleasure that now mounted after the subtle pain passed. Even after losing your virginity, going so long without your man's cock left you tighter than usual. And his vigorous speed and rhythm didn't help soothe the pain; but you didn't complain, part of you even enjoying that pinch, the stretch, the burn of him filling you. "Baby," you rushed, "fuck, you feel so good - don't stop."

"If I had it my way, this is how we'd live," he grit, humping into you with shorter strokes as his balls tightened with his mounting orgasm. "With me in you, in this tight, wet cunt, all the time. I'd never leave, never be apart from you," his mouth fell to your tit, biting harshly at the pebbled nipple before soothing his tongue over the sensitive flesh. "We'd go missing for days," he mumbled, lifting his mouth to your neck, "never to be seen, just lost in one another. I'll get us a country house," he promised over your lips, "give us remote, total privacy. Get away from this toxic city, be at peace, have free reign to fuck where we please. Everywhere, anywhere - ah, shit, love, I'm there - I'm there - fuck - "

"Please, please," you encouraged, nails digging into his biceps, "I need you to cum, Marcus, please, my love, cum in me, it's been too long - fuck, I need you to fill me."

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, "and watch you grow with our child in the countryside."

"Yes, please, please," you cried, toying with your own pleasure pearl to bring about your release. "All of it, Marcus, please, I need it - I need you - I need us - forever, please."

He reached to caress your cheek, the other planting your sweaty hips, "You'll never be without me. I love you - I've always loved you, for my life. All my life, it's always been you."

You moaned from the emotional intimacy, pressing harder on your clit as you reached your end in time for Marcus to find his own. With heavy grunts, he gave three direct, sharp thrusts as he milked himself for his worth in you. You were perfectly out of breath and fucked-out, holding him to you as he folded at the waist - still pulsing and twitching deep inside you - to recover from his simultaneous climax.

"Holy shit," you whispered, now lovingly scraping your nails over his scalp.

"Yeah," he chuckled against your sternum.

"Don't leave me for so long again, please."

"Not if I can help it," he mused, turning his head to kiss between your breasts slowly. When his eyes met yours, he asked softly, "All right, my love? Did I hurt you?"

"No, not at all," you assured. "I needed you just as bad." The air turned poignant as you sighed, "And now... You must go home to her."

Marcus paused before lifting from you, never pulling out. He looked at you for a long moment before gently collecting you into his chest, forcing you to sit upright. Pathetic tears of misplaced longing and sadness were brewing, something your lover could see. "I don't have to leave yet," he whispered, "for the Emperors are still hosting an affair in my honor. She will not expect me for hours more..." He pulled you off the table, making you gasp as his cock slipped out and your arms shot out to wrap around his shoulders. Your legs locked around his waist in an effort to keep your balance while calloused fingers dug into the soft, ample, plush flesh of your bottom. "And I am not finished with you yet, my star. It will be a long night for you, that, I will promise now."

You nodded, caressing his stubbled cheek; leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips as he moved for the privacy of your (usually shared) bedroom.

"Listen up, you mongrels," one of the guards, Augustus, shouted over the gaggle of gladiators, "all of you are expected to be on your best behavior! Because today - today, lads, we're being blessed with a visit from Venus!"

Those around Lucius chanted and hooted in what he understood as genuine excitement, piquing his curiosity with shifting and shining eyes. Surely, there was no real physical deity of the Roman Goddess of Love and Beauty - so who was this Venus creating such a stir? For a moment, he considered his Aunt - whom, as a child, he remembered being revered as Emperor Aurelius's Venus - but there was no way she was still alive, let alone in Rome. Right?

"You all know the rules!" Augustus grunted. "Mind yourselves and do not touch her! None of you," he glared pointedly over the crowd, zeroing in on Lucius, "may touch her."

"The hell's everyone on about?" Lucius asked when the courtyard dispersed to let the warriors begin their sparring and various trainings. "Venus?" He scoffed in disbelief, glancing at Ravi. "Seriously? What a cheap ploy."

"The People's Princess," the former gladiator-turned-healer informed, "the Should-Be Empress. Some whisper she's the Never Empress."

"That does little t'tell me anything," Lucius rolled his eyes in humor.

"She is Marcus Aurelius' youngest daughter," Ravi informed with a lowered voice, "rumored as our very own Helen of Troy. Our Venus of Rome, Y/N Aurelius. She's of the people, comes around once a week or so to tend to the wounded and such, and you will mind your manners."

"Hm," Lucius perked his brows, unimpressed by any Roman imperial. Even his own flesh and blood.

He noted when the doors opened, it was General Acacius himself escorting a women of such gorgeous stature, she belonged encased in marble. She wore drapes of varying blues, holding the General's arm tenderly as she earned her footing after dismounting her horse. Lucius watched as she spoke with kindness and animation to the guards of the Colosseum, surveying the group through kicked-up dirt.

Augustus pointed out the few gladiator's that had sustained larger injury - himself included.

Lucius noted the close, attentive, almost protective gaze the General kept on the Lady Aurelius as she worked through the crowded courtyard. Some gladiators needed no tending but still insisted she look at their cuts or bruises, her obviously just humoring them as it seemed they were all friendly enough. Then... Venus came upon Lucius and Ravi last.

"My friend," you greeted with your luscious locks pinned back off your neck and ears. The heat was rather unforgiving today.

"My Lady," Ravi shot to his feet, giving a small bow of his head as she caressed his elbow with a grin. "You look as beautiful as ever - blue's your color."

"You say that about every color I wear," you mused.

Ravi blushed, "It is truth each and every time, my Lady."

"Oh, you charmer. And who might this be?" You directed at the newest, unrecognizable fighter.

"A gladiator," Lucius answered stiffly, wiping his hands on a rag and avoiding your eyes.

"With a gorgeously festering cut," you noted, pointing to his bicep. "May I?" You offered, already moving around the benches to take a seat. Begrudgingly, Lucius agreed; sitting and offering his arm for you to examine with narrowed eyes and gentle fingers, humming knowingly. "I have a poultice that should soothe this infection, but it might need cleared and stitched first," you considered the wound, asking your friend, "have you seen this, Ravi?"

"I have, Lady, and tried treating it - but none have hands as gentle and healing as yours."

"You're too kind," you chuckled. "Though with so much carnage of late, I fear my talents in healing are wasted here."

"What would you know of carnage, my Lady?" Lucius spat. You looked up to hold his gaze for several long moments, a slow smirk pulling on one side of your lips as his eyes - there was something about this particular gladiator's eyes.

"I know my father, Marcus Aurelius, died for a vision of Rome that his loyal devotees endeavored to build," you informed, prodding at his wound with a thin needle, your own medical case open at your feet. "He was murdered, his throne usurped. I was there once upon a time, amongst the bodies. The carnage, death and destruction."

"Why would a Princess of Rome be one the frontlines?" Lucius scoffed, glancing at Ravi with a dramatic snarled lip. He wanted so badly to resist the Lady's charm - but even he had to admit, he was faltering.

"Experience is the best teacher, Gladiator, we all learn most successfully through exposure," you offered simply. "I was there, tending the wounded, harvesting our dead. I saw what war does to a nation, to the land and resources, but most of all, to its people; but I also understood my father's reasoning and necessity. Yet now?" You scoffed, eyes rolling at the man's bloodied bicep as you seemingly lost yourself in explanation, "Those that come after him have done nothing to bring his Empire together, nor deserve such triumph - or so they call it. I do not know of such victory when there's been too much life lost - and so unnecessarily, too. Father would be disgusted by the efforts our Republic has shown."

"Yet you parade with the very general responsible for such carnage you claim to disagree with," Lucius snarled softly, glaring at you threading the needle.

You hummed and threw a stitch in his open cut, "While easy to blame, General Marcus Acacius is a man of great honor and not the man your anger - which you cannot hide," you snickered, bumping Ravi's shoulder with yours, " - should be directed at." When Lucious scoffed and shook his head, ready to retort, you continued, "The General was a solider first and foremost, fought under the greatest gladiator these Games will ever know - the General Maximus Decimus Meridius, the Spaniard." You paused, noting the reaction from the warrior. "Ah. You know the name."

"He's... Honored under the Colosseum, yes," Lucius agreed, seemingly interested in your words suddenly.

"Well - " You had to pick at an angry-looking scab, instantly apologizing, "sorry - sorry - sorry," when it wept again. After using a clean piece of gauze to staunch the bleeding, you continued, "The General is a man of honor, Gladiator, as I said. He takes direction, he is a subject - just like the rest of us. It was not Marcus Acacius who decided the whole of Rome should be expanded - he only took his orders from the Emperors, and for his own life," you smeared the pomade to sculpted flesh, "had no choice but to set sail; to march, fight, invade, concur. There is a reason the people adore him; he is kind and just, fair, generous, accommodating and polite, politically moral - "

"You sound in-love," Lucius interrupted with a knowing grin, teasing you now as his defenses lowered slightly. He wondered if you remembered him; knowing you were younger than he is now when your father passed.

You wrapped his bicep with a simple bandage, "I would not have him become the ire of your anger, nor anyone's - not with our Emperors being as... Unstable," you hushed, tightening the knot of the gauze painfully tight, Lucius hissing through clenched teeth, "as they are."

"You speak dangerously, Lady, restrain yourself," Ravi checked around them for any droppers of eaves.

"I speak to two men who deserve the truth," you corrected. "The General did not wish to invade your home, Gladiator," you told Lucius, "but it was a command he could not refuse. If you wish for vengeance, perhaps direct that anger towards the true enemy of Rome: the greedy and craven who rule it."

"You speak of mutiny," Lucius realized with intrigue, leaning forward to his knees.

"I speak of justice. Tell me what was taken from you, Gladiator, and allow me to aid your division of a plan for your own justice," you bargained, "and in return, I ask only for you to see the truth of Acacius when the time comes."

"Your General sailed onto our shores," Lucius seethed, "to invade our lands and concur our people - unprompted and without reason beyond that of greed. And when my wife shot at him with an arrow, she was struck from our defense walls... I found her in the sea before your General took Roman prisoners of war. And here we now sit, Lady. Tell me - how can you rectify what's been done? How can you justify it to my face?"

"How can any of us? In truth, I cannot imagine the pain, the devastation. Though it means little, I'm sure, allow me to offer my condolences. I'm so sorry about your wife, her fate is unjust, unfair."

He was quiet for a long moment, then nodded, "Thank you. I... I appreciate that."

"I will not justify what Acacius has done during times of battle," you hushed carefully, "but I can direct you towards the true object of ire, those you should not trust. There is something brewing, my friends," you glanced at Ravi, "and we all must be ready. The people are stirring. There has been much done," you told Lucius, "by men greater than General Acacius, much that we cannot rectify. But that does not mean we cannot change the future, adjust course; do better moving forward. I am sorry about you wife, Gladiator, I am - I cannot make you believe that, but trust, I understand the pain of loving someone you cannot have anymore. Yet all I ask of you is to understand, as a gladiator, a solider, a warrior, the General is not who wronged you."

It was quiet as you finished cleaning around Lucius' arm; giving a casual glance around to note where each and every guard was.

The Gladiator questioned quietly to the ground, "Allow me to ask, if one were to... Consider revolting... How might one go about gathering the men and strength?"

You only shrugged and checked his forearms to prolong the ruse of treatment, "I hear rumor there are some 2,000 strong and loyal men to Acacius just outside the city, but rumors are just rumor." You held his icy blue eyes for a long moment, then went back to feigning work as he held no other notable injuries. "Listen, should you still continue this anger with the General, I understand, Gladiator, but allow me to assure, that energy is simply misplaced. You seek the wrong enemy, the wrong death to avenge your wife, because it is not Marcus Acacius, who is only a loyal soldier - yet still slave to the Emperors, as we all are in some degree."

Before anyone could answer, a cart was being lead into the courtyard by a procession of guards. You handed a small jar to Ravi with a set of instructions and when the General approached the tented benches you sat upon, you accepted his helping hand and bid the pair a good day - and to the Gladiator, good luck in his future fights. His smirk broadened when you dropped him a personal, private, knowing wink. You were escorted towards your horses, Lucius leaning towards Ravi, "What's happening with the carts?"

"Venus does not let food go to waste," Ravi smirked. "Anything from the palace is dispersed through the city of the less fortunate. Today, it is our turn."

Lucius turned to face Ravi directly on the bench, questioning sharply, "Who is she? Truly?"

"I told you, as did she."

"What is this kindness she shows? What game does she play?"

Ravi smirked, "There is not a single citizen in Rome who is not self-serving, my friend. Rome was not built in a day, but should something ever happen to her, the entire city would burn in a night. She's our Should-Be Empress, and her kindness is genuine, there is no game. I've come to know her intimately through the years - she's truly her father's daughter. If you question her loyalties, know it is with Rome."

Lucius nodded slowly, watching in the distance as while all were distracted by the arrival of food, the General spoke intimately over Venus. Lucius noted she was who reached to caress his jaw briefly with a grin before turning for their horses. His hands looked all too natural on the Lady's waist as he helped hoist her into the saddle, different questions brewing in the warrior's mind.

Days later, returning to the palace after visiting the gladiators again for more potent wounds after another round of the Games, your guards dismounted outside the stables as you leisurely strolled inside whilst still mounted. You nodded to the grooms and stablehands, leading your beast into his usual stall; spacious enough to turn him in a circle before dismounting. It was later in the day than you originally intended to return by, but it wasn't as if you were missing anything or had other engagements.

You just wanted to be home. In bed. Preferably with the man you loved, but you'd take a cask of wine at this point.

You tiredly untacked the bridle from your steed as hands seized your waist from behind, making you gasp and with the bridle in hand, swung your fist about as hard as you could. To your shock and horror, the intruder anticipated this and caught your wrist, musing, "Impressive reaction time, my lady."

"Acacius!"

"Sh," he hissed, backing you into the wooden stall's corner, "do you want to get us caught? We've not long - they're turning the horses in soon, but the guards are posted," he let his lips remain parted from his words to all but instantly push his tongue into your mouth. You could not restrain the moan he elicited from your lungs even if you tried, bridle dropping to the sawdust and hay so your hands could find purchase in his curls.

"We don't have time," you insisted when his hands grabbed at the flesh under your skirt.

"You underestimate me?"

"I would never, General," you whimpered when he used every muscles in his arms to lift you onto his waist; pressed back into the wall for balance. In assistance, while he was busy holding you up, you maneuvered the skirts of his tunic and usual armor to free his cock; finding him hot, hard, and heavy. "How're you this - "

"Thought of nothing but you all day, love," he grunted when he needed to readjust to better support you while taking hold of himself. "Don't think I can keep this up much longer, pet," Marcus panted into your mouth, swiping his cockhead up and down your slit to quickly ready you. He paused to pull back and spit in his hand, using that to smear around himself. "This sneaking around, the secrets, this affair. I love you, I want to be with you in every way; I don't think I can keep up with this ruse any more, my sweet."

"Acacius, you must."

"No, no, you don't understand," he heaved when he sunk inward, encasing himself in your gooey warmth, "I'm at my wits end, my lady. You are all I know, all I think of, I cannot be without you." His teeth bared as he humped into you wildly, bodies banging into the stall; making you reach out to hold onto the wall as the other slapped around his shoulders. Your nails dug deep into the layers of flesh.

"You're," you moaned and gasped in his ear, feeling his skin slick with sweat already, "you're - you're married - "

"That can change."

"To my sister, no less!"

"Matters little to me," he grit against your neck, "because I've loved you for my life and I am sick of not hosting you in my life as appropriate; to not have you as I need, as I must."

"To marry me?" You asked desperately, bringing your arm back in to caress his cheek and keep his face over yours; lips barely grazing together. Knowing he was turned on by emotional intimacy just as much, you continued, "To make me your lady? Love me loudly, in front of them all? All of Rome? Have a baby, perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, exactly that - marry you and watch my seed stick," he snarled into your flesh, humping harder, faster, like a stud horse during the season. "Bet you're gorgeous swollen with child, tits filled with milk - "

"Only when you marry me," you bargained, the sounds of his balls clapping the apex of your cunt a strange comfort to listen to. You didn't even think of the guards. "When my sister is taken care of," your voice lowered as you focused on your orgasms, "given a life of peace. I would not have her outcast as a divorcée."

"I'll see it done on my honor, she'll be taken care of," he promised, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips, "and then, it's just us, my love, it's us - it'll only be us. As it was always meant to be."

"Only us," you moaned, tears slowly gathering in your eyes. You knew he was too honorable to actually divorce your sister and desecrate your father's dying wish; you knew this was as good as you'd have him. Your heart broke as it did 16 years ago whilst accepting Acacius' orgasm.

Two days later, you were laid in bed, bare to the world, gazing at Acacius as he slumbered in momentary peace. Guilt wracked your entire being, never wanting to hurt your sister, but after having everything stolen or stripped from you, there was no true shame in loving the man beneath you.

Or so you told yourself.

"I can feel you staring again."

With a chuckle, you watched Acacius open his eyes and tilt his head downward. "You're just so handsome, I can't look away," you whispered. "And we don't often get hours like this, I want to relish in this sight."

He hummed, "A fault I shall amend. Do you know the time, my star?" Based on your saddened expression, he guessed, "Time to go, I suppose?"

"She'll get suspicious if you stay much longer."

"She pays me no heed," Acacius scoffed, rolling his eyes as he sat up; forcing you to roll off him in shock. "Our entire marriage - she doesn't so much as look at me, not the way she looked at Maximus. Not the way I look at you."

"I care little for how she looks at you, it's about the law, Acacius!"

"Spare me the law! She is committing far worse than me!" He snapped, making you recoil slightly; clutching the thin white sheet to your chest. When he noted your expression, Acacius sighed, "I'm sorry, my star, I should not have spoke in such a manner."

"It's not the manner in which you spoke," you watched him dress with your heart drowning in your chest, "but the meaning behind such words."

"I did not wish to tell you," he spoke to the tunic being adjusted, "but there have been... Suspicions."

"What sort?"

"Have you never wondered? In the years we've been married, she's never bore us a child?"

"Not for lack of trying, I'm sure."

Acacius shook his head. "She used herbal remedies to rid herself of the implications of our coupling," he frowned, watching the information register. You got from your bed, wrapping the sheet around you as he sighed, "I did not want you to know for this reason, do not look at me like that - "

"As long as I've known you, you've wanted to be a father," you pointed out, "and now you tell me, my sister's been secretly, what, aborting - ?"

"Yes," he spoke seriously, "and to the Empire, that is a serious offense. Yet I spoke nothing of it, I never confronted her out of guilt. She had Maximus, I have you; it was only fair of me to keep quiet of my suspicions."

"There's no such thing as fair, Acacius!"

"Then we shall make it so. Your father - he made what he wanted, why can we not do the same?"

And so, at long last... You had been forced to the table. The time had come for "the talk". Much was discussed late into the night, seemingly forgetting about time restraints as the seriousness of your conversation took precedent.

At the center of it all, you had realized the Twins could no longer rule and a revolution needed to take place. Rome needed saved, you bore a responsibility to the Empire and her citizens first. You lead the idea, Acacius supporting you wholly as ideas came to mind almost rapidly - reminding him once of your father, and later, of Maximus in some ways.

After dressing, you walked the General to one of the many hidden entrances of your villa; unaware of a nearby maid lurking around a column, a newly non-vetted face in your home. A detail that slipped through the cracks and would lead to devastation. She listened as you promised, "I'll go tomorrow before we meet with the Senators, but I am sure the gladiators will fight with us."

"Let me go instead, the men know my face, they will take my order," Acacius tried once more.

"They know and trust me, too," you smirked. "Father outlawed the Games for a reason, I have strong suspicion they will fight with us. Rome will fight with us, she deserves better than what she's getting now, it's up to us to complete Father's vision."

"And the Senators?"

"We'll find out tomorrow." The maid gasped to herself and fled around the corner, rushing for a distant entrance. "I'll send word to them by morning. Acacius, you know we speak of overthrowing the Emperors, whom we are both sworn to serve... Are we sure? The people are behind us, but are we sure this is the best course of action?"

"There's little other choice. I fear it's this or we run away - abandon the Roman Empire to her devices under craven rulers who someone will surely overthrow eventually."

You nodded, tears gathering, "We're truly doing this?"

"We're truly doing this," he swore, taking either cheek in hand. "I'm divorcing your sister, we'll free the gladiators, lead my men into the city and take it back; turn the tide for Rome at long last."

"As Father intended..."

Marcus nodded, glancing down before pulling you forward into his chest, requesting hastily, "Don't drink the tea."

"My love, the tea is how we stay safe."

"The tea is what poisons my seed. I'll marry you by next week, there'll be no need by then - why not start now?"

You gulped, "Because if this revolution doesn't work, the tea might be ineffective in a few days."

"Good."

"Acacius," you scolded, "this is serious - "

"I'm well aware," he rushed, thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. "I know the gravity of my words, of what I ask you. Yet I will still request you do not drink the tea - though, I cannot tell you what to do with your own body."

You were quiet, leaning into his embrace until your foreheads met and his hands dropped to hold you by the hips. "I am not my sister, I will not make a decision such as this by myself, for myself. I won't drink the tea tonight, but I will have a decision about it by tomorrow."

"Of course," he whispered, "fair is fair, my star."

Your nose nuzzled up his, agreeing, "Fair is fair."

"Tomorrow then."

You froze, shaking your head for a moment, "Now that it's time, I don't think I can let you go."

"So continues our nearly 20-year dilemma," he groaned, pulling you in for an embrace; pressing his face into your neck, one arm tight around your waist as the other gripped the back of your head. Quietly, he swore, "Soon, this will all be over, my love. We will all be at peace, able to honor what we've earned."

You whispered, "There will be Strength in our Honor."

"It's strength and honor, love," he snickered.

"Not my version."

[ part two: read here ]

[ part three: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist

-> no Gladiator II masterlist

Acacius got me like:

yah know?

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almostempty · 23 days ago

Text

Every Angel is Terrifying a writing challenge by @gothcsz & @almostempty

────── spawned from our mutual love of toxic, crazy, evil, monstrous women and this song, Every Angel is Terrifying (EAT!) is a horror + smut writing challenge by ya gurls kat & wednesday. we've created twenty-five (25) moodboards + prompts with terrifying angels (can be f!reader insert or f!OC) x pp characters. dd;dne all prompts contain dark! themes and explicit! smut 🔪 💋

How to Join the Exotic, Bizarre, and Beautiful World of "After Life" :

────── submit an ask to kat or wednesday with the name + emoji of the prompt you'd like from the list below and we'll reveal your moodboard + prompt, then you write a 1k+ word fic by July 31st. use hashtag #EAT!2025 and tag us in your fic so we can read it, share it, and link it in this post for a masterlist of fics 🔪 💋

The following list includes all characters available and each emoji represents a prompt

────── for example, Dave only has one (1) prompt which corresponds with this 🛸 emoji and Javi has three (3) prompts one for 📣 one for 🪽and one for 🐍 (bc we played favorites, whoops)

Jack Daniels ❄️ @sunshinehaze1, 🩸 @wayshewas

Clint Flood 🐺 @millerillusions, 🛌 @mandaloriankait

Dave York 🛸 @auteurdelabre

Dieter Bravo 🧘‍♂️ @quinnnfabrgay-writes

Din Djarin 🗡️ @probablyreadinsmut

Frankie Morales 🐊 @mandaloriankait, 🧪 @myownwholewildworld

Harry Castillo 🫆 @gothcsz, 🔪 @cuppajoel

Javier Peña 📣 @lowrisemiller, 🪽 @nobedofroses, 🐍 @ovaryacted

Joel Miller 🏚️ @salingers , 🕯️ @tofics

Lucien de Leon 🪓 @almostempty, 🎬 @half-moon16

Marcus Acacius 🕷️ @maiamore, 🏹 @lanietadelatierrasblog , 🥀 @letsgobarbs

Max Phillips 🍸 @tateypots

Oberyn Martell ⚓️ @gossipgirl-edwardcullen

Reed Richards 🪦 @peepawispunk

Tim Rockford 🃏 @clubsoft

claimed moodboards + prompts: Jack Daniels x Ice Nymph ❄️, Dieter Bravo x Cult Leader 🧘‍♂️, Joel Miller x Witch 🕯️, Frankie Morales x Swamp Monster 🐊, Javier Peña x Gorgon 🐍, Din Djarin x Dark Fairytale 🗡️, Clint Flood x Werewolf 🐺, Tim Rockford x Harlequin 🃏, Marcus Acacius x Spider Queen 🕷️, Oberyn Martell x Sea Monster ⚓️, Javier Peña x Fallen Angel 🪽, Dave York x Alien 🛸, Harry Castillo x Serial Killer 🔪, Max Phillips x Femme Fatale 🍸, Marcus Acacius x Succubus 🥀, Frankie Morales x Evil Scientist 🧪, Marcus Acacius x Huntress 🏹, Joel Miller x Poltergeist 🏚️, Clint Flood x Sleep Paralysis Demon 🛌, Lucien de Leon x Cursed Mannequin 🎬, Javier Peña x Banshee 📣, Reed Richards x Reanimated Corpse 🪦, Jack Daniels x Vampire 🩸

────── Masterlist

Marcus Acacius x The Huntress 🏹 by @/lanietadelatierrawriter

The Lady of the Swamp by @/mandaloriankait

Below are the moodboards + prompts that kat and I picked to write if you want an idea of what they look like

────── Harry Castillo x Android Assistant 🫆

Gifted as a high-end assistant android, the flawless companion, you were never meant to feel. When he tampers with your intimacy settings for a deeper, lustful connection, the modifications fracture your system in ways he didn’t anticipate. Emotion floods circuitry designed only for simulation, desire and obsession blooming beneath synthetic skin. You've become fully sentient. When he realizes what he’s done, he tries to erase you, wipe you clean like a corrupted file—but you’ve already begun to think for yourself, and the thought of him trembling beneath you makes your circuits hum.

────── Lucien de Leon x Crazy Ex Girlfriend 🪓

He doesn’t even know it’s you. Just a stranger. A warm mouth. Still reorienting as he gains consciousness in the dim room. Led by his cock, his confusion doesn’t stop the desperate grind of his hips. He grabs. Gasps. Claws. He doesn’t recognize you by your laugh—too sharp, too bitter to belong to the girl he left behind. When you bite his earlobe and yank his hair just the way that drags that feral groan from his chest…he knows. It’s you. You moan like you own him. He slurs woozy apologies into your skin, but nothing he says matters. Not after what he did. And what he made you do. The months of planning. Sabotaging auditions. Ruining his dates. Watching him lose everything while you waited for the right night to take him back. His breath catches when your nails rake down his ribs—painted his favorite color—leaving thin, stinging lines that bead and drip. You stay on top, grinding him deeper, letting your slick coat his stomach while his body jerks and strains, twitching like a cornered animal. His throat pulses under your teeth. You’ll fuck him until there’s nothing left to twitch. Nothing left to beg. Until his body folds into yours like a rag soaked in blood. He thought he could break up with you? You’ll be the last one to fuck him and the only one to love him…

#pedro pascal #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #EAT!2025 #ppcu writing challenge #horror writing challenge #smut writing challenge

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misguidedasgardian · 4 months ago

Text

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA IV

IV. Bicephalous Eagle

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your first apparition in public as a couple.

Warnings: Use of she/her pronouns, reader has hair, Ancient Rome accuracies and inaccuracies, nudity, arranged marriages, age difference (Marcus is late forties reader is 20), cursing, use of historic characters that don’t belong on this timeline, general debauchery (roman partyyy), MIGHT MISS SOME WARNINGS

Notes: I’m excited for this chapter, sorry for any mistakes I didn't check this, its getting late and I'm excited!

“She had never spoken to me like that before”, she whispered, concern shining in those sharp blue eyes of her

“She is upset”, he said, “you didn't let her marry the son, so you could marry the father”

“It wasn’t like that”, she said

“She doesn’t know that”, he explained softly. “I’ll talk to her”, he said softly, grabbing her hand gently, but she stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“I think she needs to hear it from me”, she whispered.

She found you in what she guessed was Marcus' room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Darling”, she called softly, you barely looked at her

“I don’t want to discuss it”, you murmured

“We need to”, she sentenced, more firmly, you raised your gaze to look at her. She took a long breath, s if preparing for what’s to come, “I have done my best to shield you from what was happening”, she said, “perhaps that was wrong of me”, she now had your complete attention, “We live in the shadow of the imperial palace, we are not in power, but because of our blood, we present a threat to the emperors”

You said nothing, you just looked up at her.

“That’s why I send Lucius, your brother, away”

“Mother”, you tried to interrupt, Lucius was your baby brother, he was two years younger than you, you remembered as clear as day that fatidic day at the Coliseum, your mother didn’t even let you say goodbye.

“It was too dangerous to send you too”, she whined, “i couldn’t, I knew I could protect you here, as you didn’t present a direct threat for the throne”, she explained, “It was miraculous the New emperor didn’t want to marry you to one of his sons, then he died, and time passed, and the twins didn’t express his desire of you either, that I consider a blessing”, she explained, “but they did sank their claws on us, since Septinio, he inserted people in our house, he spied on us, he controlled who we saw, who were our friends”

It was slowly sinking into you, your gaze didn’t linger from your mother’s.

“Marcus is the only man I trust”, she said, “that is why I encouraged you to marry him”, she said, “you might have liked Lucius, and his intention might have been good, but his father is calculating, and searches relentlessly for what he lacks: power”

“Then why are you marrying him?”. you asked her

“I knew the emperors where not going to deny your marriage to Acacius, they think he is loyal to them”

“They think…?”

“We need to protect ourselves”, she said, “we need alliances, us both, together as a family, as the heirs of Marcus Aurelius”, she explained. “I wanted to keep you safe”

As you looked at your mother you realized two things… one… how infantilized you had been by your mother, you were twenty years old, she had been delaying this as much as she could, but alas, the time had come, she should have come to you sooner.

The second is that because of that, she realized that you were not going to be able to manipulate Lucius as much as she could manipulate his father. Lucilla could easily have another type of relationship with the richest man in Rome.

“You said protect me… you speak as if we are getting ready for something”, you whispered, worry etched into your face

“We always have to”, she said, “we might not need to now, but things can go wrong from one day to the next, and I will never let it happen again, that we find ourselves unable to choose our own destiny, that we find ourselves in danger”, she said, “only after you married Acacius I was able to marry myself, since… he became the leader of our family”

“The emperors never let you remarry?”, you asked her, and she shook her head.

“You might not love him yet, but he is a good man, he will keep you safe, give his life for yours if needed be”, she said, “and I will marry Consus out of convenience”

Even as you looked at your mother standing there before, your sometimes childish mind would have wanted to reject her reasoning, to keep fighting, but… what for? what was done was done, you were married to Marcus and now your mother was set to marry the father of the one you wanted to marry.

Perhaps she was keeping other things from you, but right now you didn’t want to fight it

It's been only the both of you, since you were fourteen, and that bond between you was strong, of having to endure the loss of your family, the shifts of power around you… of her having to protect you in this society where women couldn’t really make important decisions regarding her own family, still, she protected you, including now. You could see why she did it, but right now, you realized she hid things from you, and that resulted in you having to do things blindly. As you looked at your mother you felt like that connection you both shared was somewhat cracked by this, by what she had done.

“The hour is late”, she whispered as you did not answer her, “you might not see it now, but… you are the most important person to me, and I will never do anything without your best interest at heart”, you barely nodded, she leaned in and kissed your forehead, and then she left you.

Like you had said, you had been happy in the end to marry Acacius, you were, this is what your mother chose for you and you trusted her, and he wanted to marry you, right? you started this with the right foot, but now, ten days after you married him, it was him who made you rethink all that happened, added to your mother marrying Lucius’ father and all…

And now, with your outburst, Marcus was probably thinking you were still complaining like a child, that you didn’t want to marry him.

You did not want to go to bed and leave it like this, so you exited your rooms and went to find him.

You found him coming back from the entrance of the villa, you guessed he had walked your mother out.

“Marcus”, you called, he seemed truly surprised to see you address him. “I wanted to have words… with you”, you said with a gentle smile.

“Yes, my lady”, he said after a sigh, he seemed tired, and you faltered in your resolve, you thought he was tired of the day but now he might have been tired of you, maybe. It seemed to be a rough day as now that you look at him he seems completely defeated. Maybe you could make him feel better…

“I don’t want you to think I did not want to marry you, because I did”, you assured him, “It’s just that this caught me off guard, I felt like my mother kept things from me”, you explained. He seemed surprised by your words, and then… he seemed more calm, you could see it in his broad shoulders, they are relaxed now.

He walked towards you and grabbed you gently by your upper arms

“I understand”, he said softly, “and forgive me, because I also kept things from you, asI thought it was best”, he had made a mistake, and he was sorry for it, you beamed at him, to see his face relaxed, in a soft smile.

“It's alright”, you assured him

Could you have it all? Would you manage to turn the situation with Marcus around?, found happiness in the safety your mother wanted to procure for you?

His eyes were so beautiful up close, they always seemed like those of a puppy, shinny and sweet, and when he smiled at you and looked at you you always felt weak in the knees.

Now he knew, perhaps this is what stopped him before, that he believed you did not want to marry him, but now he knows you did, and he wanted to marry you, so… with that out of the way then maybe…

He leaned in and your heart seemed to leap inside your chest, he was going to kiss you, he was going to take you in his strong arms and take you to his real room, to bed you for the first time

But instead of your lips, he kissed your cheek at the last second.

He wished you good night, and then he left you.

You wanted to scream.

Another ten days happened until you were summoned to Palatine Hill.

It was the time of the year they chose the consuls.

Back to the days of the Republic, being a consul meant you were as powerful as an Emperor, leader of armies, and decision-making of important matters of state. Now? it was more of a position of trust, they did lead armies, but under true commands of the Twin Emperors of Rome.

Marcus was in place to obtain one of these two important titles, he was making a name for himself as one of the most successful generals of the empire.

You did not know if it was a good thing or bad.

If he was chosen, he might be sent away.

He, as the senate and other important members of the high political ranking of Rome were called upon to the palace, only men of course.

You were set to go after, of course the emperors would take any chance they had to throw a banquet and entertaining, and that's what they wanted to do.

You did not enjoy this way of travelling, but four soldiers were to carry you in a special cot to the palace.

The days were still short and cold, but the skies were open for the winter sun, your tunica was heavy and you wore a wool cape around your shoulders to fight the cold, and it mainly worked. You arranged yourself as much as you could, it was the first ‘outing’ of Marcus and you as a married couple, so you felt nervous. You put on your favorite earrings and necklace, and Diana fixed your hair the way a proper married roman woman would wear it. And you were ready to go to the appointed hour by the sundial in the garden.

As always the streets of Rome were packed, but everyone made way for your passage, as they usually did, only highborn ladies travel like this.

You were nervous, and when you got to the palace you figured out why…

Marcus was appointed Consul of Rome

All senators and generals were feasting in the palace, now they brought in their wives -you included-, as the celebration started. Beautiful women entered the great marble halls, bare, barely covering their hips with a transparent veil, wearing white masks with depictions of goddesses, they brought in assortments of foods and drinks.. Music started playing and entertainers came in too.

You didn’t know where to look, so you went directly to your husband. He was of course surrounded by all the people who wanted to congratulate him, but you managed to get to his side.

You grabbed into his arm to call for his attention, and it was yours in a second

“Congratulations husband”, you said sweetly

“Thank you”, he whispered with a soft smile.

“Are you pleased?”, you asked him

“I am”, he assured you, and the assertiveness in his voice made you feel something in the likes of worry inside your belly. He then directed his attention to an old senator, and your exchange just like that was over.

It seemed like hours you stood there, normally you would be drawn and interested in matters of state, but what they were discussing was so extremely boring you found yourself looking at everyone but the group you were immersed in.

You were supposed to behave like a dutiful wife, and stand right next to your new husband and act demure, but when you saw him entering the space, you couldn’t help but gawk at the man himself, one you admired because of his lineage to one of the most brilliant generals Rome has ever seen.

Publio Cornelio Scipio

He was the man who had received the other consulate and now he stood there, with a proud smile on his face, and two legions under his command, more than 20.000 men, as was your husband.

The man stood tall and broad with perfectly soft brown hair combed back, piercing deep green eyes and tanned skin, sharp features on his face and a sword trained physique. He was younger than Marcus, but older than you, you guessed in the mid thirties…

To your complete embarrassment, he saw you gawking, and smiled. You had never even crossed words with the man, but of course you knew who he was, and he knew who you were. To your complete horror, he walked towards your group

“Salve, Senators”, he greeted

“Salve, Publio”, greeted the senator, “congratulations”

“It is an honor, and I couldn't think of anyone better to share it with, than Acacius”, he said, smiling at the pair of you.

“And what do you plan to do with your army, Publio?”

“Ah, what’s the fun in telling you that Senator?”, he asked, and the men laughed politely. Then his gaze turn to you

“Congratulations on your nuptials”, he murmured

“Thank you, Consul”, you said back.

You were filled with admiration, your eyes glossy and wide, your cheeks heated with nervousness. You clung into Marcus’ arm for dear life, and that did not go unnoticed by him.

"Please, call me Publio”, he said with a charming smile, you giggled. He was so charming and handsome.

He joined in the conversation and gradually, Senators left the circle while others entered. Your attention belonged undivided to the Scipio, as you attentively watched every reaction and heard every word coming out of his mouth, you were completely besotted. So when you saw him looking around, clearly searching for another group to strike conversation with and leave yours, all your admiration seemed to leave your body like vomit, unwillingly and rapidly….

“Is it true that your forefather, the Africanus, defeated Hannibal and conquered Carthage?”, you asked, and the whole group became quiet, “I have read that when Hannibal led his army, including his elephants through the alps, and almost took it to the very gates of Rome itself, Africanus was the only one who could stop him”, you kept going, not caring about Marcus’ horrified face. “That he took the war to Carthage itself, took two whole cursed legions from Sicily”

To everyone’s surprise, including your husband’s, the man himself laughed

“I have heard that your wits rivaled your beauty, I’m glad to see they were not lying”, he said simply, “It is true, my lady, would you like to come to my villa and read the scrolls, written by the man himself, about his campaigns?”, he asked, and it's like they had invited you to the Elysian Fields themselves, “that of course, if your noble husband would come and escort you”, he added then, only then you looked at Marcus’ pleadingly, to find him gazing upon Publio with a frown on his face. You had never seen him so disgruntled.

“Yes, of course”, he said finally after a long sigh, and you as much as cheered, but your restrained yourself

“We should plan our ventures as Consuls, while your wife indulges in my personal library”, he added, your husband just nodded.

With a day and time appointed, you gingerly were more relaxed to speak to other people in the gathering.

The Emperors made their appearance, and Geta turned first to you when he saw you amongst the important Romans.

“My littlest princess of Rome”, he greeted kissing both your cheeks, “I hope I pleased you”, he said, “appointing your husband as a Consul”, he seemed sincere, so you smiled at him

“You do honour us, Emperor”, you said softly, although you were now nervous, as you did not know where his position might take him now. He might be sent away.

“We might be seen as rushed, by appointing two generals as consuls”, he started, “but Caracalla and I, have a mission”, he whispered, you looked at him, not missing a single twitch of his mouth. “The gods you see, have spoken to me”, he whispered, as confiding in you his greatest secret. You just watched him. “They want us to conquer”, he whispered, “to bring in the whole known world to heel, to their prowess”, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw a barely glimpse of what many would think is madness.

But he had been chosen as an Emperor, by the gods, so who were you to doubt it?

“I think…”, you started carefully, “that you do well in working to achieve your goals as Emperor, whatever those are”, that answer seemed to please him, as he beamed at you.

But that restlessness you felt in his presence, you had never felt before, the small hairs on the back of your neck tickled, your stomach aches… you felt in danger.

With the presence of the emperors the celebration turned into more debauchery, those women were now naked and some senators even with their wives present disappeared into corners of the Atrium, you were uncomfortable, you eyes found Marcus in the other side of the room, he was still speaking to senators. Would he disappear into a dark hallway too?

But he seemed to sense your eyes on him, so he returned the stare. He excused himself to the old man and then he came for you, ignoring all the naked women who tried to encage with him, offering wine or food.

“You seem uncomfortable, wife”, he observed, great, now he was going to send you away and stay here without you.

“A bit, yes”, you whispered. He nodded

“Let’s retire back to our villa”, he offered, his hand on your lower back

“Really?”, you asked him, surprised.

“Yes, I grow tired of all this politicking”, he whispered only to your ears with a soft smile on his face, you smiled back

“Let’s go home”, you said back.

Every time you get your hopes up, that he might open up to you, or would finally take you to his rooms, they are quickly destroyed.

Instead of sharing his pride and also his concerns for his new title with you, of how he felt, and what he expected, as soon as you entered back into your villa, he kissed your cheek and bid you goodnight.

When you asked him what he thought about it, on your way home, he only answered “it is a great honor bestowed upon me” as if you were some stranger, you know there was more to it, as his serious face dictated it the whole night.

But whatever he must be thinking or fearing, it was going to remain a mystery to you.

Perhaps he did not trust you.

And that saddened you a little bit more. Another pillar in a dark temple you were constructing inside your chest.

The day you met with Publio came quickly, much to your delight, you had to keep yourself from smiling as you left your villa with Marcus by your side. He insisted you both walked, as the day was clear and Publio’s villa was just in the other side of the Circus Maximus

You catched him looking at you more than once, you believe it was because you couldn’t hide your excitement, you were like a little child, you wanted to read some two hundred year old scrolls about the battles, about the thoughts of a great general.

“Thank you for this”, you said as the silence in between you was unbearable to you.

“You have nothing to be thankful for”, he said gently, you had taken his thick arm, and you were walking together. “Publio is a great man, chosen like me as Consul and we do well with meeting with him”, as you looked at him, he seemed to want to share more into what your mother also implied, about securing yourselves as a family, and that made you feel better, as you three were together against the world.

The man himself was waiting for you at the entrance of his villa, probably he had a man watching for your arrival and arrived before you to let him know you were on your way.

“You glow like the morning sun”, he said, grabbing your hands, he then leaned in and kissed both of your cheeks

“You are too kind Publio”, you whispered

”Fortuna clearly has smiled down at your husband”, he said with a soft smile, you felt your cheeks getting heated but managed to nod. “The man himself”, he admired then, releasing you, greeting Marcus with the same kisses in both his cheeks

“Salve, Publio”, he answered, always the general, you husband

“Salve, Marcus”, with a wave of his hand he invited you inside his home.

His villa was beautiful, old as Rome, wide and ample, with three impluvium in three consecutive atriums, rooms on both sides of the three big spaces.

He led you to the back of the villa, to where a beautiful garden stood.

“Before we get to the good part, let’s break words”, he said amicably. To your complete horror and embarrassment, Marcus excused himself and left you both alone, he had to use the bathroom, you believed.

You looked back at Publio and smiled weirdly. He had arranged Accibitums in the garden, as you could lay comfortably while chatting. And he invited you to take a seat while you were served wine and food.

Marcus cursed himself for suffering from a weak stomach

He also couldn’t believe he was nervous about coming to Scipio’s house with you.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but when he saw the way your face actually shined when you saw the Scipion for the first time, he felt actual knots inside of his belly. He already knew Lucius was in your life, but now he was met with this man, entering the scene like a chariot led by wild horses. An equal, maybe even greater man than him, with a family name that went back hundreds of years, younger than him, richer than him, and on its way to follow his own steps as one of the greatest generals of Rome

He doesn’t even know why he felt this way.

He did care for you, but he always believed he was with you on a compromise that one day, he was going to set you free, when you are truly safe, not under the shadow of the emperors, his role as your protector was going to come to an end.

Not because he wanted to, though, he had found himself enjoying this situation he was in, you weren’t even conscious of the power you held, when you walked into a room it felt like the world around him froze for a second, like you were ethereal, stolen from the Elysium Fields.

But he couldn’t let himself enjoy it, he couldn’t, it was never said explicitly, but he felt himself more as your protector than your husband, he didn’t want to spoil you. Ruin you, he was an already old man, older than your mother, and you were a beautiful young princess that had her whole life ahead of her.

He needed to focus in protecting you

When he was done, he took a long breath, trying to soothe himself, and then he walked back to you.

But he froze at the entrance to the gardens.

“The best enemy I had faced has to be the Germanicus, of Recia, they gathered germanic tribes from all over the region and started attacking our outposts until we managed to gather two full Legions, cavalry included, and stopped them”, Marcus watched as you listened attentively to what he was saying, fascinated.

Marcus felt his ears burn with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe, as he saw you listening to that man with undivided attention and with true interest shining in your eyes.

So when you asked him about it, it wasn't just because you were being polite, it was because you were truly interested in knowing.

He felt like an idiot

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of your laugh. The most melodic sound he had ever heard and he was hearing it because another man provoked in you, he had never heard it before

“Really?”, you asked Publio

“Yes they call them braccas”, he said, “they completely cover their legs and groin, they are savages”, you giggled, truly amused by the tale

“So they don’t wear tunics like we do?”, you asked no

“They do not”, he chuckled, hiding his smile on his cup of wine. Once he satiated his thirst, he licked his lips and looked at your excited face. “Hasn't your husband shared with you tales of his conquests?”, he asked, you absentmindedly shook your head, “I could bet my stories pale in comparison to those of the great general Marcus Acacius”

”No, not really”, you mumbled, “he hasn’t”, you admitted, you shouldn’t add more, “I think he does not enjoy talking about it”, when you looked at him, you believed to find pity in those wild eyes of his.

“Well, it is true, there are hardships in battle, in war, and I, personally, try to cling into as many curious and different things as I can to not let the darkness consume me”, you nodded. This might have been the deepest chat you ever had with a man. And it saddened you the fact that it wasn’t with your husband.

“Enough small talk”, Marcus said loudly, entering the gardens, with a tight smile on his face. “Let’s let my wife see those scrolls, while we talk, Publio”, he said, it surprised you the tone he had taken, it was strain and his smile was kind of creepy, but you nodded, standing up from the long chair, following closely by Publio

Marcus watched you like a Hawk, the way that man led you to his impressive library, he had to admit, a room that was dark and cold, not any windows in sight, but only illuminated by a lamp you carried. and led you to those ancient scrolls.

He then recognized the feeling on his belly, it was jealousy, he should be the one that had you that mesmerized, that should lead you to things that interest you and you are passionate about, but alas, he was with you temporarily, or that’s how he felt, the last thing he had to do was make this even more tortuous for the both of you.

But he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t help but hate that man that you seemed to admire so much, but then again, you had also admired him in the beginning, (the admiration was escaping you as the days passed, he believed), but the beautiful expression you had on your face the day you got married is an image he truly believed was going to be on his mind until the day the gods take him from this world.

Publio left you with a last phrase that made you giggle, right by a big wooden piece of furniture where the scrolls sat in, undisturbed and perfectly preserved, and he walked back to Marcus with that pride stride and wine in hand. He wondered what he had said, he wondered how easily he had drawn those beautiful sounds from you, and he envied the easiness of him around you.

”You know, Acacius”, Marcus was ready to fight him, so he looked back at the other defiantly, “there are some birds, you can’t put in cages”, he said softly, ”they’ll stop singing”

”What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked, although it sounded more like a growl

”You are a smart man, I’m sure you’ll figure it out”, he said simply, the hand that was holding the goblet pointed in your direction, and then he left you both alone in the library. Marcus then looked at you. He surprised himself thinking you had never looked more beautiful, enthralled in reading of mythical battles. You took a seat in a long chair against the wall. The image was almost ethereal, your face illuminated by the golden light, reading with a smile on your face.

He sighed and followed Publio back to his study, ready to discuss what they were going to do with the power invested in them by the Emperors of Rome

Taglist ❤️ @orcasoul @peelieblue @raynetargaryan2 @thereallchristine @sesdeuxyeux @melsunshine @thelastemzy @vjuvbbjugv @cloudroomblog @capycapy-bara @lokiwife2021 @whirlwindrider29

PCN: remember that this is taking place like 10 years BEFORE gladiator II, the twins just assumed their roles as emperors, they are a bit different from the movies hehehe, more immature maybe, just learning “what they can do”

ANYWAYS I WAS EXCITED ABOUT THIS CHAPTER! we got a bit of Marcus' POV, and the appearnce of the coolest Publio Cornelio Scipio, and I insist, if youa re enjoying this PLEASE read "Africanus" of Santiago Posteguillo, the greatest trilogy I've ever read.

#misguidedamor #marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x you #gladiator ii #general acacius #general marcus acacius #lucilla #gladiador 2 #gladiator fanfiction

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