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webcamnibal · 5 months ago

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So my dark marcus request is he is travelling to the front and he wanders away from his men to find a small lake. He sees a young woman bathing there and she seems to be so innocent about being alone with a strange man when he makes his presence known. She isnt afraid because she knows roman soldiers are only passing by. Little does she know this roman soldier is in need of some comfort so he joins her in the water and noncons her. After it all he leaves her and thanks her for her service to the empire 😩

I hope you'll have fun with writing if you decide to do it! Thank you for your time 💚

ooooh loved the request! changed it a tad bit, but i hope you like it!

Nymph

Warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, rough, virginity loss, unprotected piv, creampie, manhandling, mean acacius

Pairings: Dark! Marcus Acacius x Reader

The filth of war never scrubbed off all the way; it clung to the General’s skin, underneath his nails and behind his ears. No matter how hard he rubbed.

That is what drove him to wander off, displeased at the way his men played nonchalantly down the river; a new battalion, certainly, young minds untainted by the horrors of war.

Oh he could envy them.

The flicker of innocence in their eyes, their bodies unmarked, their wish for greatness. Their ambition was about to be crushed, he knew that. And in a way, he lusted for it too.

The leaves crunched beneath his sandals, his armor weighting into aging, aching muscles and he followed the stream. A hand tensed around the hilt of his sword when he heard it, a sound that he hadn’t heard in a long time.

A faint giggle hidden behind the trees, the rustle of a heavy stream almost engulfing it. He felt his tired muscles scrunch into a frown, no one would dare to be in this place when the Roman army went by, so why was he hearing such innocent, bashful noises?

His steps became slower, agile as he rounded the tree. A simmering waterfall glistened under the sun, and at the place where the water met its fate, where it splashed white, you rose from the pool, giggling at the heavy stream.

He felt his mouth grow wet at the sight, momentarily relief casted over him as he took you in. How your hair dripped over your bare figure, how your skin, unscathed, basked in the pleasure of the steam, your eyes fluttering shut with delight, everything he could take.

How long had it been since he had been with a woman?

But you were far from that, you were an entity- perhaps a gift from the gods. For all his sacrifice, for all the blood he spilled for the sake of Ares.

Or was he being doomed to be another Actaeon?

Nevertheless, he felt something stir beneath his tunic, blurring every sense he could possibly have. A cough growled at his throat, and you finally casted your eyes on him with a small gasp.

Like a deer caught in the middle of a valley, unprotected and defenseless. His teeth almost bared at your distraught.

Acacius stood transfixed, his battle-weary eyes wide with wonder as he took in the breathtaking sight before him. You emerged from the shimmering waters, rivulets of water cascading down your nubile, unblemished skin. You were utterly, breathtakingly naked, your lithe body glistening in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves above.

He drank in every curve and contour, from the graceful arch of your neck to the gentle swell of your breasts, the rosy peaks still taut from the chill of the water. His gaze roamed lower, over the dip of your waist and the soft, rounded flare of your hips, the gentle curves of your thighs. Every inch of you was a testament to the unspoiled beauty of youth and innocence.

Marcus felt a stirring within his chest, a long-dormant sensation he had not felt in years. It was a mix of awe, admiration, and a flicker of something more primal, more carnal. He knew he should look away, should give you the privacy and respect you deserved, but he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes from the vision of loveliness before him.

You dared to ask, after carefully examining his stature; "Are you with the Roman Army?"

Marcus started slightly at the sound of your voice, having been so lost in admiration that he had momentarily forgotten himself. He looked down at his armor, the bronze and leather plates that had become a second skin to him over the years of service. The once-polished surface was now dulled and pitted, bearing the scars of countless battles and the unwashed filth of war.

He met your gaze, his eyes dark and haunted as he replied. "Aye, I am Marcus Acacius, a general in the service of Rome. I have led my men on many campaigns, fighting to expand the glory and influence of the empire."

He paused, a shadow of something akin to regret or perhaps sorrow flickering across his face. "But tell me, sweet maiden, what brings a creature of such rare beauty to a place such as this, so close to the path of an army on the march? Surely you know not the dangers that lurk in the shadows of war?"

His voice was low and gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something more, a hint of a warning. He could not help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards you, a desire to shield your innocence from the horrors he had witnessed and the darkness that clung to his own soul like a shroud.

"I live close," You mutter discreetly, cheeks tinting at the sweetness of his voice. "I think I will leave-"

Your body moves quickly, agile in youth, and you step into the grassy ground in search of your clothes. Marcus's eyes darkened as he watched you move to leave, a flicker of something primal and hungry sparking in their depths. The way your wet skin glistened in the dappled light as you stepped from the water, the gentle sway of your hips as you walked, ignited a long-denied urge within him. He felt a surge of possessiveness, a desire to claim and conquer the innocent beauty before him.

In a flash, he moved, his battle-hardened muscles propelling him forward with a speed that belied his aging frame. Before you could take more than a few steps, he was upon you, one calloused hand grasping your wrist in an iron grip. He pulled you back towards him, your naked body slamming against the cool, hard planes of his armored chest.

"Nay, sweet maiden," he growled, his voice low and rough with a newfound intensity. "You will not be leaving just yet. A rare prize such as yourself deserves to be savored, to be...appreciated by a man who knows how to handle a woman's charms."

His other hand, the one not holding your wrist, slid up the curve of your hip, his fingers splaying possessively over the soft, damp skin. He could feel you trembling against him, could sense the way your heart raced with a newfound fear. But there was something else there too, a flicker of something akin to excitement or anticipation, at least he choose to believe that. A brief respite for the atrocity he was wishing to partake in.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he murmured, "Stay with me, sweet one. Let me show you the pleasures and passions that a man like me can bring. I promise, I will make it a night you will never forget."

You struggled against his grip, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as a surge of panic clawed at your mind. You were no match for his strength and size, your slender frame a mere whisper against the hard, unyielding armor that encased him. As you looked up at his face, you could see the toll that war had taken on him, the deep lines etched into his skin and the haunted look in his eyes. Yet, beneath the weariness and the scars, you could still see the handsome man he must have been in his youth. Gods, that was still handsome as it was

His hand tightened around your wrist as he felt you struggle, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with a bruising force. You winced at the pain, your breath catching in your throat as you stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. He leaned in closer, his pepper and salt beard tickling your cheek, the rough texture a stark contrast to the smoothness of your own skin.

You could see the scar that marred his cheekbone, a jagged line that ran from his temple down to his jawline. It was a testament to the battles he had fought, the enemies he had faced. And now, it seemed, you were to be his enemy too.

His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours with a possessive, almost feral intensity. You could see the hunger there, the raw, primal desire that burned within him. And as you gazed into those eyes, you knew with a sickening certainty that you were in grave danger. With a swift motion, he spun you on the heels of your feet.

He pressed himself against your back, pinning you in place with his solid weight. His hand slid from your wrist to your shoulder, gripping it hard enough to leave bruises as he held you still. You could feel every contour of his armor, every hard plate and sharp edge, digging into your soft flesh.

His other hand, the one that had been pawing at your hip, slid up to your breast. He cupped the soft mound, his calloused palm roughly kneading your tender flesh. You gasped at the sudden contact, your body stiffening as he groped you. His fingers found your nipple, rolling and tugging at the sensitive peak until it hardened under his touch.

He groaned into your ear, his voice low and rough with lust. "What is it, sweet maiden? Have you never felt a man's touch before? Are you still untouched?"

His hips pressed forward, grinding his armored pelvis against your naked bottom. You could feel a hard bulge pressing against you, a sign of his growing arousal. Your eyes widened in shock and fear as the realization of his intentions sank in.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. "Do not worry, sweet one. I will show you the ways of a woman."

His hand on your shoulder slid down to your waist, gripping your hip with a bruising force as he pulled you harder against him. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, could sense the barely restrained power and hunger that radiated from his battle-hardened body.

You fought back, as hard as you could, but you were no challenge for the man behind you. Tears prodded at your eyes, sobs bubbling in your throat. Your struggles only seemed to fuel his lust, your futile resistance igniting a dark hunger within him. He grunted, tightening his grip on you as you fought against him, pinning you even more firmly against the unyielding armor encasing his powerful body.

"Shh, shh, little one," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "Struggle all you like, but it will change nothing. Your innocence will be mine, one way or another."

He punctuated his words by thrusting his hips forward, grinding the hard bulge of his arousal against the cleft of your bottom. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of his armor and your own naked flesh, the promise of his desire burned into your skin.

His hand on your breast tightened, kneading and squeezing the soft globe roughly as he continued his assault. His fingers pinched and tugged at your nipple, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure-pain through your body. Tears spilled down your cheeks as the first sobs escaped your throat, your struggles growing weaker by the second.

He leaned in, his beard rasping against your cheek as he licked a hot, wet stripe up the column of your neck. You shuddered in revulsion, trying desperately to turn your face away from him. But he was too strong, holding you in place as he continued his relentless onslaught.

His other hand slid down from your hip, his fingers skimming over the curve of your bottom before dipping between your thighs. You gasped and tried to clench your legs together, but he forced them apart, his rough fingers finding the sensitive flesh of your most private place. He groaned in satisfaction as he felt the slick heat of your arousal, misinterpreting it as desire rather than the body's natural response to stimulation.

"See?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind resists."

He continued his relentless assault, his calloused fingers rubbing and circling your most sensitive spot with a skill that sent unwanted jolts of pleasure through your body. You squirmed and writhed beneath his touch, but you were no match for his strength and size. Your struggles only seemed to excite him more, his breathing growing heavier and more labored as he felt your slick arousal coating his fingers. He leaned in closer, his beard rasping against your cheek as he growled into your ear.

"That's it, sweet maiden. Let yourself feel the pleasure of a man's touch. Your body is responding so eagerly, so hungrily."

His hips pressed forward harder, the hard bulge of his arousal grinding insistently against your bottom. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of his armor, the promise of his desire burning into your flesh. Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body, your struggles growing weaker by the second.

He chuckled darkly, amused by your futile resistance. His fingers never ceased their circling, rubbing, stroking, pushing you towards a peak of unwanted pleasure that filled you with dread and revulsion.

You knew you were losing the battle, losing yourself to the overwhelming sensations and the dark hunger of the man who held you captive. And as your body began to betray you, trembling and aching with a pleasure you didn't want to feel, you realized with a sinking heart that he would have his way with you, no matter how much you resisted.

He abruptly removed his hand from between your thighs, leaving you trembling and aching with a confusing mix of fear and unwanted arousal. Before you could catch your breath, he was fumbling with the skirt of his tunic, his breathing heavy with impatience.

You felt the rough fabric of his tunic lift against your back, and then the hard, hot length of him pressed against your naked bottom. You gasped in fear, your body going rigid.

He gripped your hips hard, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he positioned himself. You could feel the thick head of his manhood prodding against your most private entrance, demanding entrance to your untouched depths. Tears streamed down your face as you braced yourself for the inevitable, your heart pounding in terror.

Panic and dread coiled in your gut as you felt him start to push forward, his thick shaft stretching your virgin folds. You cried out, a choked sob of fear and pain escaping your lips as he forced his way inside, body struggling to accommodate his invading length.

He grunted, a sound of dark satisfaction, as he hilted himself fully inside you. You could feel every inch of his thick, hard cock pulsing deep within your clenching walls, filling and stretching you in a way that was both painful and terrifying. Your body shook with great, wracking sobs as you were finally, brutally deflowered, your innocence shattered by the force of his lust.

You felt the sting of his cock piercing your walls as he rutted his hips, mind going into static as it attempted to shield you from the traumatic scene; his groans carving space into the membrane of your brain, as he begun to slowly jut his hips into you.

His voice was a low, guttural moan as he felt your walls clench and flutter around his invading length. "So fucking tight," he grunted, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust of his hips. "Like your little cunt was made just for my cock."

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying in vain to block out the sound of his voice, the feeling of his body moving over and inside yours. Tears leaked from the corners of your tightly clenched eyelids as you felt him swell even thicker inside you, stretching your tender flesh to its limit.

Each drag of his hips sent fresh bolts of pain and unwanted sensation coursing through your nerves, your untrained body struggling to make sense of the brutal claiming. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick shaft as it plunged in and out of your once pristine depths, painting your insides with his lustful essence.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he panted harshly. "That's it, little maiden. Take my cock, take every fucking inch. Your little virgin cunt feels so good squeezing me, like it's milking my cock for all it's worth."

His hand slid around your hip to your stomach, pressing against you as if he could feel his own length moving inside you. You shuddered in revulsion, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere but in this moment, anywhere but impaled on the cock of your brutal attacker.

But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from the relentless thrusts and the pain that radiated through your core. All you could do was endure, with tightly clenched eyes and teeth, as he used your body for his own sick pleasure, defiling your innocence and shattering your world.

You felt him stir inside you, cock throbbing with need as he pushed you down on his length; your feet barely touched the ground as he had lifted you in his tight grip.

You let out a choked cry of pain and protest as he hilting inside you with a single, brutal thrust. Your back arched, your nails digging into his armor as you tried in vain to push yourself away from him. But he was too strong, too powerful, and you were helpless to stop him as he began to rut into you with wild abandon.

He growled, his voice strained with lust and pleasure. "I can feel every inch of your cunt squeezing my cock, like you never want to let it go."

He started to thrust harder, faster, the wet sounds of your defilement filling the air as he used your body with a bruising, punishing force. Your smaller frame bounced and jostled with each slam of his hips, your breasts swaying and jiggling obscenely with the force of his lust.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your neck, the scrape of his beard against your skin as he panted and grunted with each thrust. Tears streamed down your face, your sobs echoing in the room as you were forced to endure the brutal, relentless pounding of your innocence.

His hand slid down to grip your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh hard enough to leave vivid finger-shaped bruises. He used the grip to pull you harder onto his cock, impaling you over and over again on his thick, throbbing shaft as he chased his own selfish pleasure.

With a final, brutal thrust and a guttural roar of completion, he hilted himself deep inside your ravaged core. You felt a searing, scalding heat as he began to unleash his seed, his thick cock pulsing and jerking as it pumped stream after stream of his essence deep into your once pristine womb.

You shuddered and sobbed, your body convulsing with the unwanted sensation of his release flooding your insides. The feeling of his hot, sticky seed filling you up was almost as violating as the act of violence itself, marking you irrevocably as his conquest.

He held you tightly against him, pinning you down onto his still-throbbing length as he rode out the waves of his climax. His breathing was heavy and labored, his heart pounding against your back as he basked in the afterglow of his brutal claiming.

You could only whimper and shake, your body going limp and pliant in his bruising grip. Tears and drool mingled on your face, your mind struggling to cope with the trauma and violation of your innocence. You knew, with a sinking, shattered sense of despair, that you would never be the same. Your purity, your virtue, had been stolen from you, replaced by the brutal, painful knowledge of your defilement.

As suddenly as he had grabbed you, he released his bruising grip, allowing your limp and trembling body to crumple to the floor. You collapsed in a heap, your bare skin hitting the cold, hard ground as you struggled to catch your breath and gather your scattered wits.

Pain radiated through your battered body, your hips and thighs screaming from the brutal treatment they had endured. Tears continued to flow down your cheeks as you curled in on yourself, instinctively trying to make yourself small and unseen. The sticky, unpleasant feel of his release trickled down your thighs, a sickening reminder.

He stepped back, tucking himself back into his breeches with a satisfied grunt. He loomed over your broken form, looking down at you with a cruel, mocking smile. In that moment, you saw the true extent of your helplessness and vulnerability, at the mercy of a man who had taken what he wanted without a shred of remorse or compassion.

With a ghost of a grin, he turns into his heel, not without uttering crass, defeaning words. "Thank you for your service to the Roman Empire."

The filth of war would never scrub off, but at least you were tainted, too.

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