A collection of one-shots featuring various Pedro Pascal characters. Including: Din Djarin, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Pike, Dave York, Javi Gutierrez, Oberyn Martell, Jack "Whiskey" Daniels, and Max Phillips. Most contain expl...
summary: It isn't until you're in his home that you learn it's General Marcus Acacius who's summoned you for your services—you're not sure why he did, when the other courtesans standing beside you, hoping to be chosen by him, have bodies that look nothing like yours.
rating:E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, explicit smut, plus size reader, courtesan reader, age gap (reader is of legal age in today's standards), takes place pre-Gladiator 2, dommy Marcus Acacius (loves giving orders), he's a tiny bit possessive, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, rough sex, backshots, woman on top, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, breast worship, hair pulling (m receiving), slight breeding kink, (1) pussy slap, dirty talk, spanking, spit mention, some biting, Marcus loves titties, with hair like that he wants it pulled, I did way too much research on ancient Romans)
word count: 4.8k+
a/n: The trailer got me.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was the marble bust atop a pedestal that revealed whose home you were in. The opulence of the domus' atrium, with its four tall marble columns surrounding the impluvium's shallow, sunken pool in the middle of the room and the compluvium's opening in the ceiling above it, allowing the moon's light to filter in, told you whoever lived here had notoriety—then you saw the face carved out of stone, recognizing the curls and strong nose you'd only ever seen as he was paraded past you down the street in honor of his latest victory, and you knew.
General Marcus Acacius is a man feared by many for his ferocity and skills in battle. It's been said Mars, the God of War, blessed his birth, while others believe his bloodline is descended from the God himself. What you know to be true is he's a gifted General that the Emperors and Gods have smiled upon, and in his presence, an intimidating figure you didn't dare look at unless you were addressed.
There are four women standing to your right, all of you younger than him, naked, and courtesans of the highest standard—well-educated and well-versed in politics along with the pleasures of the body—and highly sought out by society's elite.
Marcus is at the opposite end, silently making his way down the line with what you can only assume is a scrutinizing eye, and you fear there's been a mistake that you're here—the other courtesans are all built similarly with small breasts, flattened stomachs and thinner waists than yours, whereas you're curvier, and have more meat on your bones, with your bigger chest, soft noticeable belly, and grabbable hips. Clearly, he requested a particular type of woman, and it doesn't appear you're it. Staring down at the tiled floor seems better than seeing the disappointment on his face when he gets to you.
His sandaled feet come into view as he stands before you, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your bare body—golden snake bracelets coil around each of your upper arms, and at the unexpected gentle touch of his fingertips to one, you flinch.
