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theetherealbloom · 1 day ago

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Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.��

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him.

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions.

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go.

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home.

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close.

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave.

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

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authorhjk1 · 1 month ago

Note

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6pTqflplBO/?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Sana/Jennie museum threesome

The Roman Goddess (part III)

(Minatozaki Sana X Jennie X Male Reader)

"Stop playing hard to get, Mars."

Venus' mischievous smile makes you lose your mind.

You knew it was a bad idea, when you saw the invitation to this event lying on the bed in your hotel room. And her note next to it explained why she wanted you here.

"I don't think we should do this."

You take a step back, surprised by your own self control.

"Y-Your husband is right there."

You whisper and point to the next room of the museum.

"Oh, forget about him, baby. I'm just here for that dick of yours."

You watch her looking down on you, before she reaches out to cup your crotch.

You can't do anything. Nothing to resist. Venus has always been something you can't walk away from. Something that draws you in. And that purple dress she is wearing makes your head spin, everytime you look at her. It fits her body perfectly, hugging her curves tightly.

A satisfied smile plays around Venus' lips, when she sees you glancing at her cleavage.

"You see? We're meant for each other. My body is yours. And yours is mine."

She steps closer. You close your eyes, still feeling her hand on your clothed cock. She places her tongue on your cheekbone and gives your cheek a long lick upwards, until she reaches your ear. Her purpose is clear. Destroy your silent resistance. Let yourself go. Give in.

"Your cock. It belongs in my pussy. As deep as it can go."

You flinch when Venus bites your earlobe. She is way more aggressive than she used to be. But then again, she is used to getting what she wants.

"And I'm not leaving this museum, until you tear this dress off me and fuck me like you mean it."

Your eyes shoot open when you hear high heels click on the stone floor. Someone is walking towards the two of you. Venus takes two steps back and pretends to read the information plate of the glass case on your left. You quickly hide your erection with the brochure you've held onto until now.

When the woman finally rounds the corner, you almost roll your eyes. What in the world? What the fuck is going on?

Her blue dress is barely a dress. More like a tunic. A very revealing one. You can see most of her slender legs and her tummy. The former is decorated with some body jewelry, which catches your eye. You notice you're staring, when she speaks up.

"I didn't expect you to see here."

Venus turns around.

"Oh, hey you."

She gives the new woman a big smile, but you can tell it's not genuine. Venus hesitates for a moment, but decides to properly greet the other woman. The two of them meet in the middle of the room. You can sense the awkwardness in the air as they give each other a hug. It looks forced and delicate, almost as if both of them are afraid the other might shatter into pieces, if they squeeze too hard.

You take a deep breath, glad you aren't the center of Venus' attention at the moment. Turning around, you try to ignore the two women and regain your composure. The glass case behind you showcases a trident and a net. You read the small plate that is placed next to the case.

The Retiarius, one of the most iconic gladiators of ancient Rome, fought using a trident (tridens) and a net (rete). Unlike his heavily armored counterparts, the Retiarius relied on speed and agility.

"How is your husband doing? You always talk about how he is working all the time."

"He is doing just fine. If I remember correctly, you ended things with your boyfriend? Tell me all about that."

Equipped with minimal armor—typically a shoulder guard (galerus) for protection—he would attempt to ensnare his opponent with the net before striking with the trident. This lightweight approach contrasted sharply with the heavily armed Secutor, creating a dramatic spectacle of skill versus strength.

"You know how guys are. Lazy idiots, who only think about sex. Especially when they see a woman like me. Believe it or not, I had one of his best friends on my doorstep an hour after I ended things with him."

"I can only imagine. My husband is a loyal, loving man. He gives me the world. I hope you'll find someone like that someday as well."

The weapons displayed here are replicas of those used in the grand arenas of Capua, a renowned training center for gladiators.

You move onto the next exhibit, while you hear the two women talk in the background. It's obvious they don't like each other. They're just bragging about how everyone loves them and how beautiful they are. You do have to admit that they're both gorgeous, but their characters seem flawed, to say the least.

Now standing in front of a mosaic, you get a glimpse of what a fully filled arena must've looked like in its full glory.

This intricate mosaic from the arena in Capua illustrates the staged reenactment of the Battle of Zama, the decisive confrontation of the Second Punic War fought in 202 BCE. In this spectacle, captured Punic warriors were forced to relive their defeat, facing off against Roman-trained gladiators representing the legions of Scipio Africanus.

"By the way, I love that dress of yours. I don't think I'd dare to show off this much skin, but it really fits your style."

"Thanks. Oh, but I love yours as well. Did your husband buy it for you? His taste is really something."

The Punic fighters are depicted with their characteristic long spears (hasta), curved swords (falcata), and round shields (caetra), emulating the Carthaginian infantry. Some are shown as Numidian allies, wielding javelins (pilum) and riding light horses, mirroring the diverse forces of Hannibal’s army.

"You know, I'd love to catch up with you some more, but my husband already mentioned earlier that he would love me to accompany him to the arena. But I'm sure we will have a chance to resume this pleasant conversation."

"Of course, dear. You're a loving and loyal wife. You always put his needs over yours."

Their opponents, dressed in Roman-style armor, carry gladii (short swords) and rectangular scuta (shields), symbolizing the disciplined Roman formations that triumphed at Zama. Such events were designed not only as entertainment but as a display of Roman supremacy, reminding the spectators of Rome's victory over one of its greatest adversaries.

You let out a deep breath as you hear Venus exit the room. You already felt bad, because you slept with a married woman. And while your carnal desires have kept you under their control so far, you finally have the courage to stop. You don't want to do it here. Not with her husband in the next room. That's not just morally wrong, but also stupid and dangerous.

You decide to ignore the other woman. She's probably doing the same with you. You reach another, smaller glass case. A figure of Venus inside. You can't help but glance at your own personal Venus through the door in the other room. For a moment, your eyes are glued to her backside, which is tightly wrapped by her dress. But you quickly avert your eyes again, hoping no one caught you. You decide on studying the description of the small figure, waiting for the other woman to finally leave the room.

The goddess Venus, revered as the deity of love, beauty, and fertility, held a special connection with the gladiators of Capua. In Roman culture, Venus was also associated with victory and fortune, making her a significant figure for gladiators who sought her favor before entering the arena. It was believed that invoking Venus’ blessings could turn the tide of combat, granting strength, agility, and the favor of the audience.

"Interesting."

You mumble as you take out your pen. This could make for a great part of your book. The first one featured the Roman legions. The second one was centered around Roman naval warfare. And this third one was supposed to be more about politics, while highlighting the character of a cunning, but charming woman.

Thank to Venus, you've already made great progress. "The Roman goddess", your third book, is almost finished by now. And it seems like you just found the best way to start your fourth book. Very ambitious, since you haven't completed the third one yet. But you know that this could lead you to even more fame. And money. For a moment, you wonder if you could ever reach the same level as Venus' husband. Through writing? Not likely. But it's going well so far.

The idea alone already makes your fingers itchy. You want to go home and continue to write. And you know now, your fourth book will be about gladiators. As you take notes on the museum's brochure, you are already planning out the first ideas for a plot.

You loose yourself in your thoughts, whispering along as you keep on reading the description of the small figure.

In Capua, one of the most renowned gladiatorial training centers of the Roman world, shrines and offerings to Venus were common, especially among gladiators who wished to honor the goddess in the hope of survival and success. The connection between Freya and the gladiators-

"What the fuck happened here?"

You say out loud, starring at the small text.

"Are you okay?"

You jump. The woman who talked to Venus is standing right behind you.

"Yeah, sorry."

You turn back around.

"Is something wrong?"

"Kinda..."

You hesitate. She sounds kinda bored and you don't want to make it worse by letting your history addiction shine through. But what's the worst that can happen?

"Here."

You point at the description.

"For some reason someone switched the names of Venus and Freya."

"And who is that?"

"Well, Venus is this one."

You point at the statue and have to force yourself to not look into the next room.

"And Freya is basically her Nordic equivalent."

"Isn't this the goddess of love or something?"

"Yes, you're correct. She's also responsible for marriage and the spring."

"You seem to know what you're talking about."

The woman next to you crosses her arms in front of her chest as she looks down at the figure of Venus.

"A little. My specialty is Roman and Greek history, but I know a thing or two about other civilizations as well."

"Are you a history teacher or something?"

"An author."

It still feels odd to say that. But you're realizing that you aren't as nervous as you should be. This woman is gorgeous, stunning. And yet, you don't really think about that and just see her as a normal person. Maybe because you spent a lot of time with Venus?

"Are you famous?"

"I wouldn't say so. Not really."

"Too bad. It would've explained why she sleeps with you."

You almost have a heart attack.

"W-What?"

You cross your fingers that she isn't talking about Venus. Not possible. You've never seen her before, so how would she have seen you? And you are sure that Venus didn't say anything either. Right?

You feel your heart beating faster, while your body seems like it's frozen. You wait for her to keep talking.

"Did you never see her taking pictures of you or something?"

You slowly shake your head.

"No... Did she?"

"There's an mobile app for women like us."

She pauses for a moment.

"Rich, famous women. Who are either married or single."

"Ah...."

"The app is used to share our sexual adventures with each other. And recommend people, based on where you are. For example, you told her that you'd be in Italy for a while. How do I know that? I checked the app. She put a picture of you in there. What you're good at, that you're fine with keeping secrets and that you're currently in Italy. And your number as well."

"She gave everyone my number and a picture?"

"Yeah."

You feel a little used. Venus seemed to value privacy so much. So why did she just violate yours?

"I also know that the two of you are playing a little game. You call her Venus. And you're Mars, right?"

You slowly nod your head. It finally dawns on you in which direction this is gonna go.

"I want in."

"What?"

"I want to take what's hers. Make Venus jealous and show her that you like my pussy more than hers."

When she says Venus' name, it almost sounds like an insult.

"Do I have a choice?"

The woman in blue shakes her head, while giving you a mocking smile.

"You don't."

You look at her, then look back towards the room Venus went to, and then look back at her.

"Okay....What do you want to do? A hotel? Or-"

"Shut it."

You're surprised by her rudeness.

"We are going somewhere where she can see us. Got it?"

"S-Sure."

"Oh and we need a name for me too. I want one just as good as hers."

You instinctively glance at the description of the figure.

"Freya?"

You see a smile playing around her lips.

"Sounds good."

"I don't think we should be here. This isn't just against museum rules, but also inappropriate."

"Zip it. I do what I want."

You sigh as she leads you into the sunlight. It seems like someone really paid the museum a lot of money to host this event. Which makes sense, since everyone here seems to be rich. The museum staff has placed a purple sun blind over the imperial box. From here, you have great view of the whole arena.

Of course it isn't in its original state, but it looks fabulous nonetheless. Which makes sense, since it's the second largest amphitheater of the Roman Empire. In the middle, where the gladiators have fought thousands of years ago, the museum has set up tables and chairs, a large buffet and even a small dance floor.

You feel odd, overlooking this beautiful scenery. Not just because you have a gorgeous woman lean over the balustrade right in front of you, but also because it feels wrong. This was once a place of blood and death. People died down there and yet these rich people treat it as some fancy place for a party.

"There she is."

Freya nods towards Venus, who is standing near the buffet. You can spot her easily. She is the most beautiful woman down there. You can't keep your eyes off that beautiful body.

You know her husband has to be there somewhere, but you can't tell who it is. And you're not even sure if you want to know. After all-

"What are you waiting for?"

You look over the bent over woman in front of you. Venus has so much control over you, you almost forgot about Freya. But now, you can see how beautiful she is as well. How sexy, how gorgeous. Just as much a goddess as Venus is. Same but different.

"Kneel for me and make yourself useful."

You hesitate. Venus wasn't really this commanding. But in the end, you don't care. As long as it means you are able to have sex with a woman like her.

You feel the naked stone on your knees. Reaching forward, you slowly lift up Freya's dress. Her blue underwear matches the dress. You lean in and give the back of her thighs kisses. You taste her skin, making sure you take your time as you carefully make your way upwards. When you eventually meet her clothed core, you plant a kiss on the fabric.

Freya's legs open a little wider, but you change directions. You lick and kiss her cheeks, giving them an occasional bite or two.

"That feels good..."

You continue, until you feel like she is starting to get impatient. Pulling at her panties, you watch them slowly glide down her smooth legs.

Licking your lips, you stare at her exposed pussy. It's a little darker than Venus', but not less beautiful. You lean in. One slow lick from the bottom to the top. It makes her hum in appreciation. You reach for her cheeks to pull them apart a little further. Taking in Freya's scent, you begin to feast on her pussy, while the rich people feast on the buffet in the arena.

You quickly notice that Freya isn't as wet as Venus is. It takes you a while to finally have her dripping. But for some reason, that just makes it taste even better. You lick along her folds, part them with your tongue, dive in deep. And then you retreat, circle around her outer lips, dip down to let your tongue flick against her clit. And then you start from the beginning once more.

Throughout your delicious meal, Freya has stayed mostly quiet. An appreciative moan here and there, a slight gasp, whenever you try something new. You can really see how the two women differ from each other.

As you keep going, you notice how Freya likes it when you use your hands on her ass from time to time. Pull her cheeks apart a little, slightly dig your fingers into them, squeezing them. You feel how she slowly becomes hotter, how her body's temperature starts to rise. She starts to move back a little as more pleasure rushes through her system.

Making your final move, you take her clit into your mouth. You suck on it, making her squirm for a moment. And then, a deep moan leaves her body. She shakes in front of you, your hands on her ass and hers on the balustrade keep her standing. More of her juices leave her pussy, which you taste as you dive back in during her high.

When you finally move away from her, you take a look at her now glistening folds once more. But when you're about to stand up, you feel one of her hands pushing your head back down.

"What makes you think you're done?"

You're surprised she wants more. You would've loved to feel her lips, or her pussy on your cock. But you decide to follow her lead. Maybe you'll get even more out of this.

"That's a good boy."

You hear her sigh when you place your lips on hers once more. Closing your eyes, you enjoy her taste. The moment is short lived, when you hear your phone's ringtone.

"Answer it."

Freya's voice is laced with mischievous intent.

You quickly realize why. She must've seen how Venus took out her phone and is now calling you.

"Hello?"

"Are you hiding from me?"

"I'm-"

You get interrupted by Freya, who pulls your face toward her core.

"I'm not."

You resume your meal, while Venus talks on the other end of the line.

"Good. I'm really horny right now. And I need you."

"I'm not sure if we should do it here. Your husband-"

"Oh, don't worry. He won't catch us, I promise."

"I don't-"

"It's gonna be quick."

Freya lets out a sigh as your tongue swipes upwards a little too high, coming dangerously close to her other hole. You bite your lip for a second, hoping Venus didn't hear that.

"I'll reward you."

Seems like Venus took your silence as indecisiveness.

"I'm going to head to your hotel room after this event. My body will be yours tonight."

You almost let out a groan into Freya's pussy.

"Is there anything you would prefer me in?"

You feel the other woman's hand on the back of your head again, urging you on to keep eating her out.

"A specific dress? Lingerie? Nothing?"

You close your eyes, trying to stay strong. At the same time, you keep you face buried between Freya's legs.

"Yes, that feels good."

Her moan is way louder than all the other ones.

"Mars, what's going on?"

You realize that she did it on purpose.

Freya now reaches for your phone.

"Keep going."

She takes and places it on her ear.

"Hello, darling?"

You don't hear what Venus is saying. You let out a sigh, but resume your work. You kinda feel like you betrayed her. But the again, you aren't in a relationship. She is even married to someone else.

"Oh, I bet he's loving dessert right now."

You hear Freya's breath hitch as you let your tongue circle around her clit once more.

"Oh damn, you really weren't lying. He is gonna make me cum again."

You double your efforts at her words. The damage is done already. Might as well finish the job.

"Don't get all possessive, honey. I'm sure he won't mind sleeping with you tonight."

"Really? And what are you gonna do about it?"

You feel how Freya is getting closer again. This bantering with Venus is probably getting her off even more.

"What makes you think you're a better fuck than me?"

"Oh, I'm so up for that. I'm gonna show you how much better I am."

You suck on Freya's clit once more. And the climax of her conversation and you work suddenly make her cum again.

"Oh, fuck!"

Once she calms down, Freya speaks again.

"That was amazing. Where we are? Just look up."

You notice how a second later the call ends. Freya turns around and gives you your phone back.

"While we wait for Venus, why don't you show me what you got there?"

She reaches for your belt and starts to undress you. When your pants and boxers fall onto the stone floor, Freya wraps her fingers around your cock.

"It's always hard to tell someone's size without properly measuring it, but I feel like Venus underestimated you."

She stands in front of you, while she begins to stroke your length. You can't help but reach out to feel more of her body. You place your hand on her naked waist.

"You like me, don't you?"

It's probably for the best, if you don't answer. So you stay silent, your eyes slowly wandering from her waist to her clothed tits. And your hands soon follow.

"You probably thought she was a goddess when you first saw her, huh? That's why you play this little game. But trust me, she is no better than I am."

Her confident smirk makes you realize that she genuinely thinks she is better than Venus. She isn't just saying that to make you choose her.

"Maybe we should start without her."

You watch how Freya's hand leaves your cock. She sticks out her tongue and licks her own palm. Then, she places her wet hand around your length again.

"Come on. Make everyone watch."

She turns around again. And like before, Freya bends over the stone balustrade.

You hold your breath for a moment. You really must be lucky if you get to have sex with her. But, if Venus is about to join the two of you, this might turn into the best day of your life.

Stepping behind her, you align yourself with her pussy. Your tip grazes her lips. When you push inside, you hear her let out a sigh.

"No wonder she doesn't want to share you."

Your hands are on her waist. You feel that waist chain between your fingers. But that's by far not the best thing you're feeling right now. Her tight cunt is nicely wrapped around your cock, keeping you inside as you attempt to back up.

When you start to properly fuck her, you already hear the sounds of someone walking behind you. It's still a little further away, but it's growing closer. You decide that this the best moment to make use of Freya's pussy as much as possible. You don't know what might happen next.

"Fuck, right there."

She moans when you fuck her harder. Soon, you place one of your hands on her clothed tits, while the other stays on her waist. You take her from behind, enjoying her body to the fullest. As every thrust leads you deeper and deeper inside, you start to forget all about the world around you. Her tight grip on your cock is all that matters right now. Your thrusts become faster. And the sound of your hips meeting her ass becomes louder.

"The two of you started without me?"

You quickly turn your head. Venus is standing behind you, a pout on her lips. Your eyes immediately roam her body. Her beauty and Freya's pussy around your cock make your head spin.

"Why don't you join me? Venus?"

Freya says her name once more with an underlying emotion. But to your surprise, Venus walks closer. She captures your lips with hers, her hands on your chest. By now, you've stopped fucking Freya. Which she doesn't seem to like. The bent over woman moves her hips and you groan into Venus' mouth.

Venus breaks the kiss and whispers into your ear.

"Make sure your cum belongs to me."

She gives you a mischievous smile, before she backs away. Just like Freya, she bends over the balustrade. The two women are barely an arm's length apart from each other. But your view has suddenly improved immensely. Your eyes are glued to Venus' ass as you start to fuck Freya once more.

Your self control only lasts a second. You reach over to squeeze the cheek that is closest to you. Venus looks back at you, a satisfied grin on her face.

"Can't take your hands off me?"

You nod as you try to keep up the pace of your fucking. Freya has begun to moan again, this time a little louder. Her tight pussy is holding onto you as if she knew you're on the brink of jumping ship.

"Come on, Mars. It's not polite to leave a woman waiting."

You close your eyes. Count to three. When you reach three, you don't know if you should pull out or not. You count to three again. And again. And finally you feel yourself pulling out all the way. Freya's walls drag along your length and a long sigh leaves her lips.

Only now do you notice that she is breathing heavily. You decide you're kind enough to give her a break.

A moment later, you stand behind Venus. Your wet cock rests on the fabric of her dress as you squeeze her cheeks. She purrs like a cat in the sun, already getting wet by just your hands on her body.

As much as you love seeing her ass like that, you eventually realize the urge to bury yourself inside of her grows larger. You hike up her dress. No panties. If only her husband knew what a slutty wife he has. The already familiar sight of Venus' pussy doesn't give you time to hesitate. You quickly push inside. That familiar warmth closes down around your length immediately. Reaching forward, you take a hold of both of her naked shoulders. The way she is leaning over the balustrade probably enables everyone in the arena to look deep into her cleavage.

But she doesn't seem to care. Venus' moans are just as loud as Freya's as you start to fuck her as well. You can tell how much wetter she is. Her juices practically coating your cock.

"That's right. I promised you. You own my body tonight."

You groan in response. The urge to lean down and give her exposed back a bite is unusually strong. But you focus on fucking her harder. Her pussy basically asking for it. Her tight walls squeezing you, her juices making sure your thrusts are smooth.

Eventually, you make the mistake of looking to your left. Freya is still standing there, elbows on the balustrade, as she bites a nail while she watches. You can tell that she wants more. It takes you a while to muster enough self control, but then you manage to pull out of Venus. She gasps in surprise.

But before she can even turn her head, you already bury yourself inside Freya's tight and waiting cunt.

That's how you fuck them both for quite a while. You actually last way longer than you thought you would. The constant switching from one woman to the other gives you always a couple of seconds to breathe. After a while, the two of them learn how to live with it and sharing you becomes visibly easier.

You're fucking Venus right now, while Freya has moved a little closer, so you can finger her at the same time. You can't even count anymore how often you switched between them. But when you deliver one unusual deep thrust into Venus, you're suddenly very aware that you probably won't be able to switch again.

Your strength is starting to leave you as well. Freya seems to have noticed.

"You're gonna give us your cum now, right? Dump your load into our pussies, after you used them like you wanted to."

Her words don't slow your approaching orgasm down at all.

"Oh, yes. Fill me up."

Venus sighs as she feels your cock throbbing inside of her. You reach out to Freya, moving her closer. The two of them are now side by side, their asses touching. You try to count your thrusts, but it's in vein.

When you cum, you bite your lip in pleasure. Venus' pussy almost traps you inside of her as you shoot two streaks of cum inside. But after a short struggle, you finally manage to pull out. One long streak hits both their asses, before you're able to push into Freya one last time.

"Fuck, yes."

She sighs loudly as she feels your cum rush into her body.

The three of you are all out of breath and you almost collapse on top of Freya.

"You still haven't answered my question."

You look over to Venus. Her ass is covered in cum and you see how a long trail of it is already running down her right leg.

"How would you like me tonight?"

You think hard about this. You might never be able to see her again after tonight. Who knows where she is gonna be tomorrow.

"I want you to wear nothing, but two things."

She raises an eyebrow in question, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Heels and a choker."

Freya lets out a chuckle.

Venus gets off the balustrade. You notice how her arms are a little red. She kisses you again, while you're still inside the other woman.

"I'll be there at 10."

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #sana twice #sana minatozaki #sana smut #jennie smut #blackpink jennie #jennie

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multific · 4 days ago

Text

Long Live The Empress of Rome

Emperor Geta x Sorceress!Reader

Summary: You promised to keep him safe. It was part of your job as his wife. And in return, you received his heart and the power you always wanted.

A/N: This contains spoilers for the movie! This is also an AU fiction.

Ever since you were little you had powers.

One might think you were a Goddess. And they wouldn't be far off.

You could hear people's thoughts and control the elements.

Throughout your life, you have perfected these powers.

You hid them well from most people.

But you were unable to hide it from The Emperor.

While you were rather calm, a storm raged inside you. Behind your calm and collected demeanour, you were actually quite the opposite.

Emperor Geta was not like that.

He mostly pretended to be sane, but he truly had no reason to.

He and his brother led an empire that wasn't kind.

But you enjoyed it.

Sometimes, Rome was exactly how you felt on the side.

Rotten to the core.

You liked it.

And you liked the Emperors.

Mostly Emperor Geta.

Who was not shy about showing you just how much he liked you.

His interest in you was beyond interesting.

Of course, he was used to having women around, but you, you were different.

And soon, you became his biggest obsession.

A simple woman he thought you were, but your beauty and wit were undeniable.

It came to you as no surprise that he took a liking to you. What did surprise you, however, was that you also felt the same way.

It's not like you weren't interested in men before, and sometimes even women. But Geta was different.

So different from everyone.

You liked that.

He matched you perfectly.

He claimed you to be his wife the second time you met him.

Your wedding was just as grand as the crowning of the Emperors.

"My Beautiful Empress," he whispered as the priest declared you wife and husband in front of the Gods.

And so, you became the Empress to Emperor Geta.

Emperor Caracalla on the other hand was not as fond of you. He often claimed a dark and cold chill running down his spine whenever he saw you. Little did he know the truth.

Geta fell in love with you.

He liked your cold demeanour and your hidden rage.

He liked you for you.

Not your powers or beauty. Although beauty was a major factor in getting your hand in marriage.

Later on, he found out about your powers when you were attacked one night.

Even his soldiers couldn't stop the angry people who wanted nothing more than to kill.

Geta watched as you murdered them all, with a simple move of your finger all of them fell to the ground.

Your husband found out your true self.

"The Gods sent me a Goddess. A Goddess of my own, My Wife."

Rumours of a Dark Empress began to spread, but that is all they were in the eyes of most, rumours.

There you were, sitting next to him in the Colosseum.

Enjoying the blood and games.

Some gladiators were more promising than the next.

The Emperors enjoyed the games and so did you.

Macrinus sat right behind you, you heard whispers from his thoughts.

A plan.

A sinister plan to overthrow your husband and his brother.

But you smirked, knowing he was not aware of your full potential.

Macrinus truly thought you were going to be the easiest to take out from the bunch. He formed a very complicated plan for the overthrow of the Emperors while he hired men to kill you.

You slightly turned your head and offered him a look. He nodded his head, thinking you were praising him for his newest Gladiator.

You watched as the rhino ran into the wall, grabbing your husband's hand you turned to whisper into his ear.

"I wish to heal the animal."

"Whatever My Sweet Wife wishes." he kissed the back of your hand.

Even if you didn't like people, you loved animals.

After the games, you retrieved into your home, back to your room.

"Crimes are being committed against us. Right in front of our eyes," you said as Geta closed the door behind himself.

"What did you hear?"

"Macrinus has a plot. A sinister and twisted plot. He wishes to rule."

"Treason!"

"I will deal with him. Do not worry yourself with peasants like him, My Love."

"What would I do without you?"

"You would be beheaded." you smiled and he wanted to laugh but the seriousness of your tone changed his mind very fast.

"Will there be blood?" he asked, hope-filled in his voice.

You nodded, and his smile grew.

"Lots of blood. But not ours, nor your brother's."

"Long live the Empress," he said as he leaned in to kiss you, but just as he was about to, you spoke.

"Long live us," you replied before pulling him in for a kiss.

---

The next morning you woke up, and your husband was still asleep.

You headed to the balcony, taking in the smell of smoke.

You grabbed onto the railings, everyone's thoughts filled your mind, and you often found it to be overwhelming.

Hearing everyone's thoughts, some people were louder while others were quieter.

You weren't sure why that was, it was all you ever knew.

Geta's thoughts were usually silent, even his most wicked ones, you used to struggle to be able to read his thoughts until you gave up. It was rare but it did happen from time to time in the past.

You can sometimes hear words from him but not full sentences.

But you didn’t have to hear them to know what he was thinking.

A word you constantly heard was “Beautiful.”

Simple.

Kind.

You love him.

But even with powers like Gods, it could become too much to handle. In those moments, Geta was always there by your side.

As if he knew you needed some reassurance.

And this time was no different.

He soon pulled you close and hugged you from behind.

"Is My Wife happy?"

"I am." you truly were.

"What will you do with Macrinus?"

"I spoke with your brother, and warned him of the plan, I suspect he was too drunk to remember so I sent him a dream. I'm sure he understands, he usually does."

"And what about the Poet Gladiator?"

"Lucius? He claims he wants to free Rome." you turned around in his arms. "But Rome will never be free. During the games today, I have a special plan for the lost prince of Rome." you lifted your hand and ran it through his hair. "I'm sure you will like it."

And he did.

Killing four birds with one stone.

Lucius, his mother, Acacius and Macrinus.

What a delight it truly was.

Unfortunately, the tiger seemed too big of a task for the men, trying to save Lucilla.

A completely normal tiger at that... of course, you had no hand in the matter.

And Macrinus?

For being a traitor, his head was placed by the walls of Rome. Setting an example to all who dare even think about overthrowing the Emperors.

"My Love. My Beautiful Wife." as he stood in front of you, out on your balcony, the moon lit the night as you heard the people or Rome riot, all you could think of was how beautiful his eyes were.

As he looked at you with the most love.

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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geralt-of-baevia · 5 months ago

Text

Look What You Made Me Do

pairing: General Marcus Acacius x OFC (Hebe Seneca)

rating:explicit MDNI 18+

word count: 7.1k (it's a big one!)

summary: Hebe finds out her husband owes General Acacius a debt he can't pay, so the General takes her for an evening as payment instead.

warnings/tags: cuckhold, dom/sub, breathe play/choking, breast play, facial slap (nothing too harsh though), vaginal fingering, male receiving oral, big dick Marcus Acacius, female receiving oral, save a horse ride a general, ejaculating ON her, soft Marcus Acacius

a/n: alright, I saw that goddamn trailer, and this idea instantly popped into my head. i am waaaay too excited for gladiator II this fall. I've never written anything like this *ahem this filthy ahem* but I'm proud of it! There will more than likely be a part two as well!

oh and also, i TRIED my damnedest to write this from second person and I just couldn't do it. :P

I was awoken from my midmorning nap from banging on the front door. I threw my robe on myself and rushed out towards the noise. Once in the hallway, I saw two Roman guards standing at our door, more lined in perfect symmetry behind them. They stood tall and proud, their stature unwavering. My husband stood before them, looking small next to their towering figures. “Are you Octavius Seneca?” one of the soldiers asked. My husband nodded. “I am. What is this about?” The two soldiers each took a step outward. To my surprise, General Marcus Acacius walked out from behind them. He walked forward until he was almost nose to nose with my husband.

“I am done waiting Octavius,” he said, his tone stern and strong. I watched as my husband began to practically shake with fear. “G-General, I don’t have the money-” “I don’t want to hear it!” the General shouted.

My husband owed Acaicus money? I watched in horror he grabbed my husband by the collar, pulling him closer.

“You have had more than enough time to repay your debts, Octavius. Now, you will pay with more than just coin,” he growled menacingly. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized the danger my husband was in. I couldn't stand by and watch him be harmed. Summoning all the courage within me, I stepped forward. “Please, General Acacius, there must be another way to settle this debt,” I implored, my voice quivering but determined. The General's steely gaze turned towards me, and for a moment, I feared his wrath would be directed at me instead. But then, to my surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“And who might you be?” he asked, his tone softening ever so slightly.

“I am Hebe Seneca, wife of Octavius,” I stated, trying to keep my ground.

“Hebe?” he implored. He dropped my husband’s tunic and began to slowly stalk towards me. “Hebe was said to be Zeus and Hera’s most beautiful daughter.”

Once he finally made his way over to me, he stood before me, just close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin.

“You bear a fitting name, for you possess a beauty that rivals that of the goddess herself,” he remarked, his voice low and filled with an unexpected tenderness. "A woman of such beauty should not be tainted by the dealings of men like your husband."

I couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down my spine at his words, a mixture of fear and something else I dared not identify. General Acacius had a reputation for being ruthless, but in this moment, there was a glint of something else in his eyes.

"General, please," I began, not daring to look away from his piercing gaze. "There must be a way to resolve this without any violence."

He seemed to consider my words for a moment, his jaw clenched in contemplation. Finally, he straightened up and turned to face my husband, who looked bewildered by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. "Octavius Seneca," General Acacius spoke with authority. "You will repay your debts, but not with coin." My husband's eyes widened in confusion, but before he could respond, the General continued, “your debts will be repaid after I lay with your wife.” The room fell silent, the weight of the General's proposition hanging heavily in the air. My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to comprehend the severity of what he was suggesting. My husband's expression twisted in a mixture of shock and outrage, his fists clenching at his sides. A sense of thrill coursed through me, my mind buzzing with what he was proposing exactly. My head spun with excitement as I struggled to comprehend the seductive danger in his words. The General's gaze bore into mine, a mix of dominant need and alluring charm that sent shivers down my spine.

We were faced with a decision: either my husband's death, or submitting me to the general's desires. As my husband's property, I knew he would not spare his life for the sake of my pride and dignity.

“Y-Yes! Yes!” my husband shouted from behind Acacius. He turned around to look at him as he finished. “I agree! You may lay with my wife. Anything to preserve my life.”

My heart began to beat rapidly in my chest, the room beginning to spin. I fell to the couch, sitting and steadying myself as the full realization of what was to happen sunk in.

“Good,” General Acacius’ voice boomed out, “it is settled.”

My husband stood in front of me, looking as if he had aged a hundred years in the span of a few moments. My mind was still reeling. I could see the fear in his eyes, the regret that he had ever gotten himself into such a situation.

I knew I would never forgive him for this.

But there was also something in the air, a sense of danger, arousal, and desperation. A feeling that intoxicated me, even if it was terrifying. I bit down on my lip, trying to bring myself to focus on the situation at hand.

The General, on the other hand, seemed to have regained his composure. He seemed almost pleased with himself, like he had accomplished something he had wanted to do for a long time. I couldn't help but wonder what his motivations were, what he saw in me that made him feel this way.

My husband stood anxiously, waiting for the General to say something or perhaps give directions. General Acacius walked over to me again, this time standing closer to me.

“We shall see if you possess Hebe’s mercy and forgiveness, too,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“Yes General,” I replied, looking up at him. As our eyes met and locked, I couldn't help but feel a strange, electrifying connection. It was as if a current flowed between us, one that I couldn't resist.

General Acacius leaned down, his face close to mine, scenting the air around me as if trying to capture a memory. He whispered in my ear, "Tomorrow night, at the Temple of Aphrodite, with your husband. I will claim what is rightfully mine."

I felt a shiver run through me at his words, and I nodded slowly. The agreement was made, the deal was struck. General Acacius and his soldiers left, and I was left to process what had just transpired.

My husband sat across from me, silent and defeated, as I contemplated the gravity of the situation. What had once been a life of the domestic mundane, now seemed to be teetering on the edge of danger, lust, and a contract that threatened to change everything I knew.

As the sun went down, the streets of Rome were abuzz with people going about their daily routines. Octavius and I sat in silence on our couch, contemplating the deal we had made. The weight of our agreement weighed heavily on us as we each processed the gravity of the situation.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and arousal. I knew that tomorrow night, I would be with General Acacius.

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like to be with him. Would he be gentle or rough? What would his touch feel like in comparison to my husband’s, the only touch I’ve ever known.

As I lay there, thoughts and images flooded my mind. I saw us entwined, our bodies moving in perfect harmony, the General's strong, muscular arms holding me close. I could feel his lips on mine, his breath warm and sensual as he whispered filthy things in my ear. I could feel his body pressing against mine, the heat of his skin against my own, our hearts pounding in sync.

I was taken aback by the urge of desire I was now feeling, it taking place of the fear I had before. I could feel the wetness between my legs, the aching need for release. I wanted to feel his touch, to be claimed by the General.

I bit down on my lip, trying to will the thoughts out of my head. I shouldn’t be looking forward to this.

The next day, I woke up early, feeling a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. I knew that tonight was the night I would meet the General at the Temple. I spent the day filling my time with anything I could until the sun began to set, signaling it was time to leave.

I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of excitement, my body still betraying my mind. As I dressed I could feel my husband’s eyes on me, but I was too distracted to care. My thoughts were only consumed by that of General Acacius.

Soon after we left and headed in the direction of the temple. I kept my palla down over my face, too ashamed and nervous for anyone to see me walking to my inevitability. No one who passed me and my husband knew what we were doing, nor did they care. But I couldn’t help but feel judgemental eyes on me nonetheless.

Once we arrived to the temple, we entered quietly. I took my hood off of my head, laying it back atop my long scarlet hair. The temple was dimly lit, and the air was thick with anticipation. I could hear the soft whispers of the few other patrons, their breaths catching in their throats as if they sensed the impending encounter.

As we entered the small sanctuary, I saw the General at the other side of the room in front of the altar. Standing tall and proud, his eyes glinting with desire. He was a sight to behold, his muscles rippling beneath his tunic. He was a man of power and command, and the attention he drew to himself, even in an empty room, was undeniable.

My husband stayed by my side, standing quietly as he watched the General's every move. He was a mere shadow compared to the General's commanding presence, his anxiety and fear palpable.

The General's eyes met mine, and his gaze was intense, almost threatening. It was as if he was looking deep into my soul, seeing things that no one else could. For the briefest moment, I was afraid of what he might discover, how I wanted what was about to happen. How I wanted to see what he could do, what he would make me feel.

As we approached him, the General held out his hand, and I tentatively took it. His touch was firm and strong, his grip unyielding. It sent a shiver down my spine, a feeling of both dread and excitement.

“Now, just laying with you is not all that will be happening tonight,” he stated. He pulled lightly on my hand, leading me towards the altar. My heart began to pound in my chest, wondering what he had in store for us. He walked me up to the altar, before effortlessly picking me up by the waist and sitting me down on it. I watched as he then brought over a chair and sat it down a mere few feet away, facing me.

“Come Octavius, take a seat,” the General called, his voice now booming and commandeering. My husband’s eyes widened as he slowly made his way over, walking up the steps to the altar cautiously. As he sat down in the chair, the General picked up rope from the floor and quickly began tying him to it.

He bound his hands and feet tightly, making sure there was no chance of escape. Octavius' face was a mix of fear and confusion, but the General didn't seem to pay much heed to his emotions. He simply looked at me, his eyes burning into mine, as if daring me to back out of the deal we had made.

As I sat there, frozen in place, I felt a strange sense of liberation. General Acacius had taken control, and there was no going back now. I could feel the excitement building inside me, mixed with an inexplicable sense of power.

"Now, my pet," he said, his voice low and seductive, "Tonight, you will be mine. You will submit to me, and you will enjoy it."

I bit down on my lip, trying to resist the desire that was bubbling up inside me. But the more he spoke, the more I found myself leaning towards him, desperate for his touch. I looked into his dark and intense eyes, nodding in agreement.

He promptly began to unfasten my tunic, my heart now threatening to beat out of my chest. I had never been with anyone besides my husband, and now, here I was, about to be intimate with another man. But the need for this experience, for this control and desire, was building within me, making me more eager with every passing second.

The General's strong, capable hands moved with a practiced ease, sliding over my skin as he removed the garment. I felt a shiver run through me as he exposed my breasts, their sensitivity heightened by anticipation.

His eyes flashed as he took them in before reaching forward and grabbing them greedily. I let out a stifled moan as he continued, a newfound arousal building within me. I had never felt this way before – so powerless, yet so aroused.

He reached up with a hand and wrapped his thick fingers around my neck, applying just enough pressure to make me feel completely under his control. I whimpered, my body shivering under his touch. The more he controlled me, the more I seemed to crave his dominance.

He leaned in, his hot breath washing over me as he whispered, "You are mine, and there is nothing you can do to change that."

I nodded as best I could, looking at him through pleading, submissive eyes. He released my neck before giving my cheek a hearty slap, my skin stinging in the aftermath. His eyes pierced into mine, and I could see the raw hunger and desire in his gaze. With one quick motion, he pulled me towards him, my mouth now open to his.

Our tongues met, and I allowed myself to be swept away by the passion that now consumed us. I wrapped my legs around his middle, holding him close, our bodies now fully entwined. I could feel his erection through his tunic, hard and ready for me. My own desire surged within me, and my hands grabbed at him anywhere I could. He reached around and grabbed a fistful of my curly hair, pulling me away from him.

He took a step back, and began to undress, undoing his belt first and letting it fall to the floor. My eyes never left him as he peeled off his robes, his massive erection springing free. It was imposing, a sight I had never seen before. It was even larger and more impressive than I had imagined. My cunt throbbed at the thought of what was to come.

“Now, a rule,” he started, closing the space between us again, "you will address me as 'General'.” His voice was rough and commanding. I took a moment to catch my breath before responding.

“Yes, General.”

I watched with capacious eyes as his fingers trailed down my chest, over my stomach, and then slid between my legs. I gasped, my body tense with anticipation, but I spread my legs out wider for him. His fingers brushed against my wetness, making my whole body tremble.

"You are so wet for me already, my pet," he growled, his voice low and seductive. He moved close, his lips brushing my ear. “And to think I thought you were going to hate this. But don’t worry, my minx, your little secret is safe with me. I won’t tell your husband how much you’re going to enjoy this.”

My husband. Somehow I had been so enraptured by General Acacius that I had completely forgotten about my husband sitting tied up behind him.

“Is all understood?” he asked, pulling back to look me deep in the eyes once more. I nodded, chewing at my bottom lip.

Without further warning, he reached down and grabbed my hips roughly, pulling me against his erection. I gasped, my body responding to him. His hand moved lower, thumb brushing against my wet folds as he spoke.

“Tonight, we will explore every single inch of each other's bodies. No part will be left untouched.” I shuddered, my heart pounding with anticipation.

The General's hand continued to roam my body, taking his time to explore every curve and slope. As his fingers drifted further south, they dipped between my legs again, teasing me on the outside but avoiding the sensitive area that craved his touch. I whimpered, yearning for him to touch me where I desired most.

"And you will beg for it," he said with a wicked smile. "But first, we must ensure that your husband is comfortable. He has done me a great service in escorting you here."

With that, he turned his attention to Octavius, who was still securely tied to the chair. I was left open and exposed, wanting more. General Acacius walked over, his large, muscular frame imposing and dominant. He reached down and grabbed one of the ropes tying Octavius's hands. He pulled it tighter and yanked it towards him, causing Octavius's wrists to pop painfully. Octavius whimpered in submission.

His other hand cupped Octavius's chin and lifted his head up to face him. His eyes were fierce and dominating. "Understand this, Octavius, I will claim her, and she will crave no man other than me after this. You will always pale in comparison to me. You have done good on keeping your word to me, now it is time for you to watch and learn the proper way to please your wife."

Octavius nodded, tears in his eyes. I should be terrified. I shouldn’t want this.

General Acaicus stalked back over to me, his cock still standing tall and to attention. He climbed onto the altar, settling down behind me. I could feel his erection pressing into the small of my back as he got closer, the heat of his body threatening to envelop me and swallow me up.

He reached his hands around me and grabbed again at my breasts, massaging them. I couldn’t help but lean back against him, closing my eyes, letting him enwrap me completely.

“I knew you were a lucky man Octavius, but I didn’t realize just how lucky you were,” General Acacius stated to my husband. I opened my eyes and looked at Octavius, his jaw slack as he watched the General grope me. I tried my best to play off that I wasn’t enjoying it, but I knew I was doing a terrible job.

His hands trailed down my body, resting on my thighs and spreading my legs out even wider. I felt completely exposed, and the thought of my husband watching me like this sent a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal coursing through me.

“Keep your eyes on your wife, Octavius," he ordered loudly, and my husband obeyed, his eyes never leaving me as General Acacius began to explore my body.

His fingers brushed against my folds once more, teasing me, building up the anticipation. I whimpered, desperate for more. Every inch of my body was screaming for him, and I did my best to keep it contained.

"Are you ready to be claimed?" the General asked, his voice low and seductive, "Are you ready to give yourself to me completely?"

I nodded, my heart pounding with desire. I wanted him inside me, wanted to feel him take control of my body.

"Then beg me," he demanded.

I bit my lip, trying to find the words. "P-please, General, claim me. Make me yours."

"Dear wife," Octavius whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. I could see the pain in his eyes of having to watch. But I was his to lose, and General Acacius was taking me.

The feeling of his fingers brushing against me, teasing me, brought me back from my thoughts and I whimpered in need. My breath caught in my throat as he finally touched me, sliding two fingers inside my wet folds. I cried out, his immense fingers filling me up. His free hand reached up to my throat, his digits wrapping around my neck once more. As he tightened his grip, my pussy tightened around his fingers. He chuckled softly.

He spoke quietly, his breath tickling my ear. "Looks like someone enjoys a little rough handling."

"Yes, General," I moaned, my voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

He drove his fingers deeper, hitting a spot that made me arch my back, my eyes rolling back in pleasure. His hand tightened around my throat, and I gasped for air, his fingers continuing to work their magic inside me. My thoughts were a jumbled mess of desire and fear, my body trembling with anticipation.

"You will belong to me alone, Hebe," the General growled, his voice thick with lust. "And no man will ever touch you as I will."

I nodded, my heart pounding with desire and a hint of fear at the thought of Octavius hearing our intimate, hushed conversation. How would he feel knowing his wife was a whore?

General Acacius pulled out his fingers, leaving my pussy damp and throbbing, my knees weak. I wanted him, needed him. I turned my head and watched as he got down from the altar, making his way back over to me.

Without a word, he grabbed a fistful of the back of my hair, pulling me down to join him on the floor. As my bare feet hit the cool marble, I continued down onto my knees before him. I looked up at him through my eyelashes as he let go of my hair. He grabbed the base of his cock, taking half a step closer and holding himself up to my lips.

“Suck,” he commanded, his voice low and full of power. I hesitated for only a split second before opening my mouth and closing my lips around the head of his cock. As I took him in more, I began sucking and licking, savoring the salty taste of his skin.

His hands went to the back of my head, guiding my movements, and I obeyed, taking him deeper into my mouth with each thrust. General Acacius groaned with pleasure, his hips swaying gently with my movements.

I continued to suck and lick him, my tongue tracing the veins and the head of his cock. He silently guided me, telling me what to do, how to please him. I was now his, and I would do anything to make him feel good.

"That's it, Hebe, take me in," he moaned, his eyes locked with mine. I could see the desire and possession shining in his gaze. As my head bobbed back and forth, something took over him like a fervor. He moved his hands to either side of my head, firmly holding me still as he began to fuck into my mouth.

I couldn’t help but choke a little as he started thrusting, the force of his hips driving his cock deeper and deeper into my throat. I coughed and spluttered, trying to catch my breath while he continued his violent assault on my mouth and throat.

“Look at how well your wife takes my cock, Octavius. I would say you taught her well, but I know you didn’t.”

His eyes never left me, and he knew exactly what he was doing to me. I looked up at him through tear filled eyes as he choked me with his enormous cock, Octavius watching helplessly. I could tell he was intensely jealous and I knew it was exactly what General Acacius wanted. To make me his and create a divide between us.

This was better than any amount of coin to him.

He pulled back out of me, but quickly captured my jaw in his strong hand.

“Stick out your tongue,” he told me. I did as I was told and stuck my tongue out, not knowing what he was planning. He tightened his grip on my jaw and spit into my mouth, saliva dripping down his chin, his eyes never leaving me.

“Good girl.”

My pussy was throbbing with want, dripping down onto my thighs.

General Acacius smirked as he heard the disdain in Octavius' groan, knowing full well that he had won.

I closed my eyes as he began to fuck into my mouth again, and took a deep breath as I tried to stop choking. I wanted him to dominate me, to take me completely, to own me.

He finally stopped, pulling his cock out free from my mouth, a trail of saliva and precum dripping down my chin. I gasped for air, trying to fill my lungs while I had the chance. I looked up, still on my knees before him, my eyes pleading.

He smirked down at me, his eyes glinting with satisfaction and possession. He took a step back, giving me a moment to catch my breath. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. As I sat there, trying to regain my composure, I felt the cool marble beneath me, my knees trembling. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions - excitement, fear, desire, and, most importantly, a feeling of being truly and utterly owned.

He had taken me, owned me in a way that no man had ever done before, not even my husband.

General Acacius reached down, grabbing the back of my hair again. Before I could react, he pulled me up to my feet. My legs felt like jelly, and I stumbled slightly, but he kept a firm grip on me. He led me over to right in front of Octavius. He had one more trick up his sleeve, and he intended to ensure Octavius knew that he was in complete control.

He pushed me down onto the cold marble floor, my legs splayed wide apart, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. His gaze burned into Octavius, daring him to say anything as he got to his knees and began to position himself between my legs.

My husband gulped, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. He knew that he could do nothing but watch as his wife was taken by the General in a way he never could. I felt as he dipped his fingers into my cunt, collecting wetness on his fingers before holding them up.

“Do you see this? Do you see how wet your wife is for me? She’s never been this wet for you before, has she?” he asked Octavius, emphasizing his slick covered fingers.

I looked up just in time for my husband to shake his head. The General tsked at him, giving him a look full of disappointment.

“And after this, she never will,” he stated simply. My mouth fell slack as I watched him suck his fingers clean of my juices, moaning around his digits as his eyes closed and face screwed up. He pulled them out with a pop.

“Here I was about to claim you before fulfilling my responsibilities towards you. You taste much too good for me to pass up that.”

I looked at him confused. He grabbed the same fistful of my hair and brought me back to my feet. My heart sank a little into my stomach as he brought me over to Octavius and forced me down to sit on his lap. I watched in aroused shock as he spread my legs out, hooking my knees on my husband’s tied up fists.

The General got down on his knees before us.

"You're going to watch," he growled, his tone unyielding. "You're going to watch as I take your wife, right here in this temple, in front of Aphrodite herself. You're going to swallow your pride and accept the fact that you're no longer a man, but a mere pawn in my game."

Octavius' eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and humiliation, but he made no attempt to fight back or protest. He simply watched as General Acacius moved his face closer to my throbbing, desperate pussy.

He leaned in and swiped his tongue up my slit. It was like nothing else I had felt before, and I couldn’t help but cry out at the contact. I looked down at the General, his eyes meeting mine. He searched them for a moment before finding his answer.

“…your husband has never done this before…has he?” he inquired. My eyes widened and I shook my head no. The General tsked again, shaking his head before changing his steely gaze to my husband.

“You see, Octavius, your wife has been denied the touch of a true master, and it’s time she knows the pleasures that she has been missing out on all these years."

My heart skipped a beat as I felt his tongue begin to explore my folds, his touch sending waves of pleasure surging through me. I could feel my husband’s discomfort and jealousy, but I was too caught up in the sensation of the General's expert tongue to care. As he continued to lap away at my cunt, I couldn’t help but feel that I was becoming more and more his, being dominated by him in ways I never imagined possible.

I couldn’t help but cling to my husband, moaning as the General began to suck on my clit.

“Tell him how much you’re enjoying this, how your husband could never make you feel this way, or I’ll stop.”

I looked down at him just in time to watch him slap my wet pussy. I whimpered in response, but my pussy began to throb again.

“Your tongue feels so good,” I said, quietly.

“Louder.”

“I love the feeling of your tongue in my cunt,” I stated loudly. He smirked and began licking between my folds again, it aching and begging for release.

“God, you make me feel so fucking good General,” I started, speaking between moans, “My husband could never make me feel this good. His mouth could never compare to yours.”

As his tongue circled around my clit, all I could do was cry out in pleasure. My fingers instinctively reached down and tangled in his curly hair, giving me leverage to move against his face. I wasn't sure if this was breaking any rules, but my body couldn't resist its primal urges.

General Acacius hummed a low sound of praise, his eyes never leaving my face as he continued to lap at my delicate folds. I felt a surge of arousal in that moment, knowing that I was pleasing him, that I was experiencing an intensity I had never known before. My husband sat silent and still beneath me, his eyes wide with a mixture of jealousy and orgasmic envy.

The General's fingers slipped back inside me, stretching and teasing me as if he was preparing me for his entrance. His fingers were big and skilled, moving in and out of me with a rhythm that sent shivers down my spine. I moaned loudly, my voice echoing through the temple.

He smirked up at me, his eyes burning with lust and possession. “Do you want me to pleasure you, to make you reach the peak of ecstasy like never before?”

"Yes!" I practically sobbed, my hips bucking of their own accord. The feeling of his fingers inside me, teasing and stretching, was intoxicating.

General Acacius nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Then you must obey me."

I could feel my orgasm building, the waves of pleasure crashing over me like a tidal wave. "I will obey," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He pulled his fingers out of me without any warning, making me whimper loudly in protest. "Tell me, does your husband have any control over you now?"

"No," I panted, my hips still writhing in need. "You do."

“That’s what I thought.”

Hastily General Acacius lifted me up from my seat on my husband’s lap, bringing me back over to the altar where we had started this precarious ordeal. He helped me get up onto the cold marble slab, my body trembling with a mixture of arousal and nerves. My husband looked on, a mixture of anger and lust simmering in his eyes.

I watched as the General laid down and pulled me on top of him, positioning me to straddle his thick thighs.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Now, show your husband what he has lost.”

As if in a trance, I slowly moved up so that I could lower myself onto his hard cock, feeling the resistance as I stretched to accommodate his girth. I cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

The room seemed to warp around us, time itself seeming to slow, as if the very air itself was witnessing our union. I could feel every vein, every ridge of General Acacius's cock as it filled me completely.

The General's hand slipped under my neck, supporting it as he thrust into me, causing me to gasp and cry out again. "That's it, take me, show him what he's missing."

My eyes met Octavius', his expression full of awe and desire. The General's eyes never left mine, guiding me, urging me on.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he moaned, his fingers digging into my neck as he began to move. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through me, combined with a hint of pain that only added to the intensity. I arched my back, raising my chest to meet the General's lips, his tongue flicking against my nipple.

I could feel my orgasm building once more, the tension rising, as General Acacius continued to fuck me mercilessly. The rhythm was relentless, and I knew my husband could see the looks of ecstasy and submission on my face.

"That's right," General Acacius hissed, his voice growing hoarse as our passion consumed him. "You belong to me now. Your body, your desire, they all belong to me."

"Yes," I moaned, my voice strained. "Yes, I am yours."

The General's eyes flashed with satisfaction as he increased his pace, slamming into me with more force now. I cried out, my body shaking as the orgasm I had been craving finally washed over me. My hips bucked wildly, my nails digging into the General's shoulders as I screamed in pleasure.

Instead of stopping, my orgasm only egged him on more. The room became filled only with the sounds of our bodies moving together, the wet slap of skin against skin, and my cries. Before I had time to fully come down from my orgasm, I began crawling towards another.

"Yes, that's it," the General groaned, “come around my cock again.”

With just a simple command from him, my body complied without hesitation, the intensity of my second orgasm almost blinding me. The world shifted, and I knew, in that moment, that I had become someone else; someone now enslaved to General Acacius, completely unable to resist his touch.

The General's thrusts grew more urgent, and I could feel his cock pulsating inside me, each contraction sending me further into his grasp. My husband, unable to take it anymore, fought against his restrains to no avail, his anger and frustration consuming him.

"Stop!" he roared, "She's mine, you don't get to take her like this!"

General Acacius laughed darkly, his eyes never leaving mine as he pulled me off his cock, and setting me back down on his thighs. My body was limp from the ecstasy, my mind foggy from the rush of emotions.

"You see, Octavius," the General began as he addressed my husband, "I have been triumphant tonight. You have lost your wife to me, body and soul. The power dynamics have shifted, and I am now the one who rules over her."

My husband seethed, but his words were trapped in his throat. He knew that he had lost, and there was no turning back now.

As for me, my mind and body were still reeling from the intense experience. I felt less like a wife or a lover and more like General Acacius's possession, an object to be used and pleasured at his discretion. It was both thrilling and terrifying.

General Acacius looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and desire. He helped me down off of the altar, guiding me over to my husband.

Willingly this time, I got down on my knees in front of General Acacius, much to Octavius’s dismay.

"Now, my dear Hebe, we must make sure your husband sees that I claim you properly,” he said, looking down at me, his jaw slack with lust.

I sat back on my heels looking up at my new master with wide eyes. His words sent shock waves down my spine, as I realized the implications of what he had just said. He wanted to assert his dominance over me, in front of my own husband.

"Yes, General," I replied softly, my voice trembling as I sought his approval. He smiled down at me, and then turned to Octavius, who glared at us from his restraints.

I watched with wild eyes as he wrapped a hand around his pulsating cock and began to stroke it. I breathed out a moan as I watched, anticipating what was to come.

"Will you release on me, General?" I asked, nibbling on my lower lip. His eyebrows lifted in shock, his expression transforming into one of pleasure. He nodded in response, apparently unable to get the words past his lips.

His pace on his cock sped up, eyes transfixed on me. I reached down and grabbed my breasts. I began to play with them as I looked back up at him, his face completely transfixed with lust.

"Yes, Hebe," General Acacius breathed, his voice thick and insistent. "You. Are. Mine."

With this declaration, he burst, releasing his seed all over my chest and face. The sheer volume of it was incredible, and it glistened in the dim temple light.

I couldn't help but feel a thrill of arousal as I watched the General's release. I felt a strange sense of triumph, too. I was the one who had made him lose control, who had made him submit to his own desires.

"Untie him," the General commanded, his voice holding a hint of dominance that I found incredibly erotic.

Without hesitation I went over to my husband and tugged at his restraints, my muscles weak and sore. Once my husband was freed he glared at General Acacius, a mixture of anger and desire in his eyes. "You can't do this to me," he said, his voice shaking with rage.

The General simply smiled. "Oh, but I can. And I did."

I watched as he beckoned my husband closer, and he slowly approached, his face a mixture of shock and betrayal. He beckoned me over with his other hand, his expression softer towards me. Once over to them, General Acacius reached out and grabbed the back of Octavius's neck, pulling his face close into mine.

"Kiss her," he ordered, his voice deep and commanding. I was still covered in his seed, my lips included.

Octavius hesitated for a moment, his face a perfect picture of conflict. But then he leaned in and reluctantly pressed his lips against mine, his tongue probing deeply and swirling the seedy taste of General Acacius around my mouth. I could sense the betrayal in his kiss. And as he continued to kiss me, I couldn't help but despise it. All I wanted was the General's kiss, craving it with every fiber of my being.

"Control yourself," the General warned. "Show her who the real man is, and prove to her that you are worthy of her respect."

Octavius released me and turned toward General Acacius, his eyes blazing with determination. "You have no idea what you've done," he growled. "But this ends now."

He turned on his heel and bolted for the door we had entered through, leaving me with General Acacius naked and used.

The General watched my husband leave, his expression dark and intense. "You did the right thing," he said softly, "but now it's time to get cleaned up."

I looked down at myself, still covered in his release, feeling slightly embarrassed and vulnerable. I tried to wipe it off, but it was too much for me to handle alone. That's when the General stepped forward, his eyes soft and gentle now.

"Let me help you," he offered, his voice filled with tenderness.

I nodded, feeling both grateful and aroused by his willingness to care for me in this intimate way. He carefully scooped up some water from one of the basins nearby and began washing me, his hands gentle and steady.

As he cleaned me, I couldn't help but feel closer to him than before. It was a strange sensation, given the intensity of our passions and the taboo nature of our position.

Gently he helped me put my tunic back on, wrapping my palla around me skillfully. Once I was dressed, he captured my face in his hands. His eyes bore deep into mine, his face gentle and caring. I would have never expected this side of him, but I was completely enamored by it.

"You did well, Hebe," he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. "You are a true conqueror in your own right."

I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his praise, and a tinge of sadness at the thought of leaving his side.

"What's next?" I asked, a hint of trepidation in my voice.

General Acacius smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief and desire.

“Whatever we want, Hebe,” he told me, “I promise you this: You are mine now, and I will protect you at all costs."

#marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x female reader #pedro pascal #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator ii #gladiator fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fanfiction #pedrostories

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no-144444 · 18 hours ago

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wingman paul- c.leclerc

summary: charles leclerc takes a liking to you at your brothers movie premiere... paul makes it happen!

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! mescal! reader

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Did you want to go to the Gladiator 2 premiere? No, not really. Was Paul forcing you to anyways? Yes, very much so.

Being his sister (and emotional support person), he always brought you on set, to premieres, and anywhere else. That was usually fine. The rest of his projects' premieres had either been in the Lighthouse (your favourite cinema in Dublin), or small enough that you wouldn’t get too overwhelmed. You were famous in your own right, following after your sister and writing music. You didn’t go on stage, but you’d garnered over 10 million listeners, and your album had just been nominated for a grammy, though you had no intention of going. It’s not that you were scared or shy, you were just entirely uninterested in going out in public as a ‘public figure’. It stressed you out, having people know who you are in such detail, so you just kept to yourself. You had no public social media accounts, you didn’t allow your label to post about you unless it was about the music, and you only let Paul or Nell drag you out in public for one of their events. You liked it that way, it was comfortable.

“I’m going to go say hi to some people, you just wait here, yeah?” Paul explained as you two entered the theatre. It was huge, and every celebrity or influencer in the world must’ve been there. You nodded as he walked off and allowed yourself to fade into the background, people-watching as time passed. You noticed the beautiful architecture of the building, the way the celebrities around you mingled, the way-

“Hello.”

You whipped your head around, startled, only to be met with a face you knew quite well. “Jesus, Charles, you scared me,” you chuckled. He blushed slightly as you turned around properly to greet him. “Hi.”

“How are you?” he asked, joining you in your secluded corner.

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

“I am very good,” he smiled, showing off his dimples. “I thought you didn’t like events.”

“I don’t, Paul just asked me to come,” you explained. “My mam would’ve killed me if I didn’t go, so here I am.”

He nodded, understanding. “I tried to find you online, but… you are not a fan of that either?”

You chuckled. “No, not really. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, it is ok. I just… wanted to talk more. You are very interesting to me,” he smiled.

“Well, thank you for the glowing review,” you chuckled. “Are you enjoying the evening so far?”

“I am enjoying it a lot more with you here,” he smiled. “But yes, I only watched the first one a few days ago and I thought it was very good, so I am excited to see how this one compares.”

“You’re sure a charmer,” you chuckled. “I hope you enjoy the film. Where are you sitting?”

“Beside Carlos?” he shrugged, an awkward smile on his face. “Carlos knows, but I don’t know where Carlos is.”

You laughed. “Are you always this disorganised?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” he winked at you and the lights started going down, you just offered him to sit next to you, hoping that Nell wouldn’t mind.

You two sat together, enjoying the movie as the night went on, and after you found yourselves at the bar, still chatting. He walked off to find Carlos at one point, looking back with a smile as he waved, promising to come back soon.

“When are you going to realise he’s trying to flirt with you?” Paul laughed. Your face was bright red and your jaw dropped.

You gently (roughly) hit his chest and scoffed. “Shut the fuck up. He is not.”

Paul laughed. “He’s totally into you! Come on, go out with him, please! I want free tickets to Grand Prixs!”

You rolled your eyes as he giggled, and then startled when you bumped straight back into Charles. “Fuck, sorry-” you started apologising but he just shook his head.

“All good,” he smiled.

Paul silently slipped away with a wink, and you were faced with Charles, once again.

“Hi,” you breathed out.

“Hi,” he chuckled, his dimples on full show. “He was right, you know.”

“About what?” you questioned.

“I am flirting with you-or, at least trying to,” he blushed slightly.

“Oh,” you nodded, unsure what to do in a situation where someone was as brazen and blunt. “Right.”

He laughed. “Can I take you out sometime?”

You stared at him, total deer in headlights, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah, sounds grand. Thank you.”

You internally smacked yourself in the face for that. But he just laughed, unfazed by your awkward demeanour.

“Great!” he smiled bashfully. “When are you free?”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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fallenneziah · 2 months ago

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hello!!! Sorry to bother or bother you, but I was wondering if you could tell me Tmnt Bayverser's reaction to a reader doing parkour? like they are very good at it, but as no one is perfect sometimes they end up with some marks on their bodyfor example, the reader reaches out to greet Bumblebee and the Optimus eyes fixate on the purple bruise on the reader's skin

Optimus: You're running again, aren't you?

reader: yes!!! I broke my record!!

At first I was a tiny bit confused since you seemed to reference Ninja Turtles but then you brought up transformers... So I'm assuming you want Transformers. Thanks for the asks anon, I apologize for this being stuck in my drafts for so long. 😓

Transformers x Reader who does Parkour.

I'd like to think that they aren't that new to the concept. Thri seeking, tricks, jumping around on things and still doing it even after getting hurt.

I'm sure other than the very extreme gladiator pit and other training arenas that they had things like that on Cybertron.

Although you are different from them, so Optimus doesn't totally understand why you would do something that would cause you pain.

When he saw your bruises and callouses when meeting you he was curious.

He bent down, looking at you, scanning you. Then he introduced himself. "My name is Optimus Prime," you do your best to shake his hand, holding onto his finger. That's when he noticed a bruise on your bicep.

He hummed thoughtfully. "You're injured." You looked down and chuckle. "No, I'm not, I'm actually just a sporty person. The bruises are normal."

"Do you need medical examination?"

"Nah, I'll be alright." You smile at him, and Optimus nods.

Overtime of your friendship with the team they come to understand more of what you do. Bumblebee will drive with you to the outdoor climbing park so he can watch you from some feet away as you do your thing.

He used to be something of a parkour artist on Cybertron as well I would think. But they did become much more concerned for you.

You returned to base early, huffing and puffing, covered in sweat when you saw Optimus, his attention stolen by your state. "Y/n, I'd wondered if you'd disappeared. Are you alright??"

You nodded, bending down and settling your hands on your knees. "I'm good, big guy- phew- oh man that was fun."

Optimus raised an optic ridge and approached, kneeling down to you again. "You've been running again then?" You nod, leaning against his hand that he offers so you can relax. When you grab on he notices a few setting bruises.

"Seems you've been busy."

"I had to break my record." You pant, looking up at him with an electrifying smile.

Optimus firmly nods, hearing the sound of bumblebee coming over, noticing you. His radio going off with a "Hallelujah everybody!"

You chuckle breathlessly and smile. "Hey 'Bee! I broke my record!!"

Bumblebee revs his engine and bends down next to Optimus, who leans you back up and steps back for some space.

"Oh yeah 'Bee." You showed him your watch, which had recorded your time. "Look at that 😄"

Bumblebee whirred loudly, giving you a fist bump.

He noticed the bruises, whining softly, checking them. "Oh they aren't too bad 'Bee. I'm just a little banged up."

Your way of explaining bruises to the team had been it's essentially buffering, the dent stays for a bit until your body buffers it out.

'Bee nodded, gently patting your head.

Now, If Ratchet ever saw your injuries you know he's be ready to lecture you. Telling you how humans are inherently stupid for getting themselves hurt all the time. Unless you point out how they fight and get hurt all the time... Then he'll shut up and just look you over.

He doesn't dislike you, he cares for you and your fragile human body very much.

Overtime they get used to you coming back with minor injuries like bruises. Bumblebee even gets into how big can the bruise get?? And you entertain the idea while the others just... Watch in disbelief of you two.

And then one day you come back with a little more than a bruise. Bumblebee came to pick you up, whirring when he saw the wrist guard you were wearing.

"It's ok 'Bee, just a sprain."

'Bee whirred his engine. and on the way back to their little hideout you told him what a sprain was.

Yeah, don't even get me started on what happened when Optimus saw that. Sauntering into base without a fully functioning hand!? Off to Ratchet!

"Y/n, you need to be more careful." Optimus said while leading you to Ratchet.

"I know, but we've got medical tools to help me heal Optimus, it's not like I'm dying." You teased.

He shot you a look, a brief note of frustration, before resting his expression again. "I am still going to let Ratchet look at you."

You gulped. Aw man...

When Optimus brought you in, Ratchet reacted how you can expect. He crossed his arms and took a look at your hand. "You aren't being careful." He said firmly.

"I am-"

"No more running, even after you heal." He said firmly.

"Yeah, well you can't ban me." You also crossed your arms.

Optimus sighed softly, giving his old friend a look. They didn't understand, but hey, if you wanted to do it, they couldn't stop you. They just worried when you got hurt.

#transformers x reader #transformers #optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #maccadam #I feel like this is underwelming but im revisiting it after who knows how long #transformers fic #transformers ficlet

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myownwholewildworld · 8 days ago

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flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo (a "per aspera ad astra" drabble)

main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: marcus acacius x emperor's daughter!reader. summary: for death was not the end, but the beginning. a/n: to whoever is reading this... I'M TRULY SORRY, okay?? 😭 i am a sucker for happy endings, but sometimes the heart wants what the heart needs. forgive me, please. comments, likes and reblogs are really appreciated! <3 warnings: mdni. full on ANGST. everyone dies. you've been warned. w/c: ~1.5k

Laid on his back, Marcus Justus Acacius’s life was a thin thread, just a moment away from being cut by the Parcae. It coiled and it stretched between their bony fingers, testing its resistance, its adaptability, its flexibility and elasticity. He could feel them toying with him, just another soul waiting to be reaped.

The sand beneath felt wet, his own blood pooling underneath him like a warm blanket beckoning him to go to sleep. But he couldn’t, not yet, not until he knew you’d be safe, away from harm. He was buying you time, his death an entertainment for Traianus, a loitering distraction so your father wouldn’t realise you were not in the Colosseum’s Cubiculum, watching him die.

He had ensured that the last of his loyal men took you away at dawn. Far from this forsaken city and its bloody claws, from your father’s thirst for revenge. Rome was nothing but the vestige of a forgotten promise and its Emperor was a ghoul who would stop at nothing when bereft.

Exhausted, he mentally scanned his body, weighing his options. His back hurt like hell; breathing felt like fire burning his insides; a piercing pain drilling his left temple from an almost final blow; his right fingers dislocated along with his shoulder which had popped out of its socket. And the injury right under his blood-soaked breastplate, where his torso met his hip, kept on gushing, no matter how hard he pressed the wound.

Marcus felt his life, his breath, slipping away. He was completely spent, having been in the arena for the last hour, fighting for his life like a wild animal. But the stamina, the adrenaline that fuelled him, was running out. His time was running out, one he hoped you gained — a fair exchange, one he would gladly comply to.

After duelling with opponents and animals alike, he felt clumsy, his limbs unresponsive. He was the last man standing but knew better than thinking the Emperor would grant him freedom. This was just a farce, a way of torturing him in his final moments. A lesson to others: not even an acclaimed, well-loved General was immune to Traianus’ rage.

Marcus heard a metallic, creaking sound, the gate ascending to present his next foe.

Almost choking on his own blood, his left fingers wrapped around the hilt of his gladius, and slowly turned to his side — his bloody saliva dripping off the corner of his mouth onto the dusty ground. Sticking the pointy side of the blade into the sand, he used it as leverage to stand up, his knees trembling like a newborn foal.

Two men approached him slowly, full, impenetrable armour on. One with a sword, another with a spear. Drawing a deep breath in, which caused havoc in his strained lungs, Marcus swung his own gladius in a perfect circle, then bent his knees ever so slightly to stand his ground.

Even through the pain, the fatigue and the heartache, he fought to death. The gladiator with the sword fell to his knees before his head dramatically rolled off his shoulders with ease. Marcus rotated on his heels to face his last rival; gladius tightly gripped at the ready.

“Libertas! Libertas! Libertas! (Freedom)” chanted the crowd, asking for his release.

The loud mantra was deafening and soothing at the same time. It wrapped around his achy body, knowing that even though Rome was savage, its citizens were not. A chink of hope, rather small but present. They saw the injustice unfolding in front of them, how cruel and vicious the Emperor was.

Perhaps his death would become more than just a distraction or a lesson. Perhaps it would be a wakeup call. And if so, his destiny would be fulfilled.

A sudden silence befell the Colosseum, the chanting dying off and transforming into pitiful gasps.

Marcus stopped on his tracks, catching a glimpse of the crowd — hands hovering over mouths in disbelief, faces ridden with teary, widened eyes. Then shrieking cries filling the air, pleas for mercy.

Something dark and heavy sunk to his stomach, impending dread and anxious nerves consuming him as he turned around to face the Imperial Box.

You had not been able to escape at dawn as he had planned, you were right there. Precious and beautiful and determined.

You were standing proud and mighty — a flowy, white dress hugging the hourglass figure he loved most, and golden ornaments amplifying your raw beauty. Your father was right behind you and only when the sun reflected off the blade he was holding to your neck, did Marcus react.

He lunged forward, his last enemy forgotten — heart beating wildly against his ribcage, throat closing off as tears welled up and blurred his vision. Marcus threw his gladius to the side, coming down to his knees in front of the loge.

If begging would save you, he would do it loudly and unashamedly — Marcus would drag himself over the embers of hell, set all his dignity aside, exclusively for you.

“Please, Your Imperial Highness. I beg of you. Spare her life and I’ll gladly give mine,” he screamed at the top of his lungs, his grievous voice floating above the gut-wrenching cries of the crowd.

This could not be happening. Not you, the most innocent, kind soul Rome had ever seen — that he had ever seen. His love, his devotion for you had brought you here. He could make peace with dying for you, for your freedom — but with this? Not with this senseless, revengeful death.

His eyes were transfixed on you, widened with fear, with sorrow. Asking for your forgiveness. He was sorry he couldn’t do more, he couldn’t save you.

You gifted him with a weak smile before mouthing an “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered silently, desperately. Hoping his breathless confession would reach you.

Your father’s hand moved along your neck, slitting your throat.

When Marcus saw a river of red staining the front of your white dress, his body and mind just went numb, tears falling unbeknownst to him.

He’d failed. It was over. It felt like if it had been his own hand slashing your neck. Because it probably had been.

Still on his knees, he sat back on his heels, his shoulders sloping down as all purpose left him. Marcus was empty, devoid of emotion, unable to feel. A carcass of someone he was but no longer existed. There was no reason to fight, to remain on this earthly plane.

He’d rather meet you on the other side than living a purposeless, unsavoury life. He’d welcome death like an old friend and would hope for your warm embrace before embarking onto your next adventure together.

Defeated, and through a thick veil of numbness, he saw Traianus’ thumb pointing downwards. A welcome sight.

Before closing his eyes, Marcus saw the spear coming towards him on the corner of his eye.

Then darkness. Forever darkness. A final relief.

“Wait, I know he’ll come,” you begged the Underworld’s ferryman, your hands nervously twisting on your lap.

“The time has come, my lady,” his guttural, harsh voice reached your ears, but not your heart.

You knew he’d come, and you’d wait. Perhaps not today, not at the same time as you, but Marcus would join you. You could have your happily ever after away from Rome, from your father. From life. You could love each other in joint Death, since you couldn’t do it freely in life.

The small boat started moving, drifting away through the dense fog, while your sight lingered on the shore. Hopeful, always hopeful, even in death. A sudden shift in the atmosphere made you squint your eyes, distinguishing a silhouette on the shore — one you would recognise in all lives you lived.

You sprung to your feet, your salty tears mixing with your trembling smile.

“Marcus!” you called him, gripping the edge of the boat.

You watched him turn around, first confused, then understanding. When your eyes locked through the thick mist, the resolution you saw told you he’d follow you wherever you wound up. Even if that was the Underworld.

Marcus jumped into the river, swimming through the darkness and the floating souls clinging onto him. Soon enough he got to you, strong arms lifting him up over the edge of the boat. You sighed, a wave of comfort washing over you as you welcomed him in your warm embrace.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it today,” you confessed, cradling his face with your lips closed to his.

“For you, I’d give up my life in the blink of an eye, mea vita (my life). Don’t you ever forget that,” he whispered, his thumb caressing your bottom lip.

Knelt on the ferryman’s boat, you hugged each other, his soothing hands roaming your body as you blended into a loving, eternal kiss.

For death was not the end, but the beginning.

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mykuup · 13 days ago

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DIE PRΛNDIVM (𝙂𝙤𝙙'𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙡)

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My Masterlist

Summary : The young emperor is mad at his brother. Again. And to let go all of his frustration and anger, he needs to devour something sweet

wc : 1.6k

Warnings : no spoiler from the movie // SMUT // food play // oral (f receiving) // power play // dub con // servant reader // afab reader (but no description) // porn without plot

A/n : Because I fell in love with the character the millisecond I saw that first picture of him, I had to write a little something. I went to see the movie last night and I'm exciting to write/read more about him!

No proofread, we die like men in the arena ⚔

Taglist : @byronking @stardancerluv

DIE PRΛNDIVM (𝙂𝙤𝙙'𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙡)

Everyone in the Colosseum fell silent, eyes fixed on the Emperor. The eldest sibling rose from his bisellium, descending the marble steps with deliberate grace. His arm extended, fist clenched. In the arena, bodies of slaves and gladiators lay strewn about, victims of the bloodbath. The two remaining fighters stood amidst the carnage—one dominating, the other faltering. The youngest, surprisingly, had the upper hand.

Now, Geta would decide whether this favored gladiator deserved to be spared. Yet everyone knew better. Geta thrived on suffering and relished the fear in the eyes of those standing before him. His lips curled ever so slightly as he studied the fighter’s horrified expression. Without a word, his thumb tilted upward.

The gladiator would die, and the crowd roared in approval.

As the last fight concluded, the audience began trickling out of the Colosseum. Back at the palace, preparations for the evening banquet were well underway. Servants hurried to set a feast worthy of both emperors. Caracalla, in his typical rage, had stormed out of the dining hall, vowing to kill his brother next time.

Geta remained behind, unfazed by the threat. It wasn’t the first time, and he welcomed the day he’d face his brother in a final battle. Their mother, however, was stricken, her eyes pleading as she stood beside Geta. Seeing the fury in his dark eyes, she dismissed everyone with a wave, trying to quell the storm inside him.

Just then, you entered the room, unaware of the tension in the air. A heavy platter of exotic fruits balanced in your hands. Too late, you realized your mistake. The Empress’ gaze cut into you as you froze in place, unsure if you should turn back or apologize. Your heart raced, breath shallow.

“Leave us,” Geta commanded, his voice low but menacing. You moved to obey, relief flooding you—until he spoke again.

“Not you.”

His words stopped you cold. You dared not look up, only catching the apologetic glance the Empress gave as she slipped out of the room, leaving you alone with the Emperor.

“Augustus, I—” you began, but he cut you off sharply.

“Come here.”

You obeyed, placing the platter down near the roasted pig and standing by his side, nerves on edge. You had never been this close to him before. The sheer force of his presence made your pulse quicken. You barely registered him as he picked at bread and cheese, sipping wine and watching you, eyes narrowing with every silent second that passed.

Finally, he looked up from his cup, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. He sighed, the sound weighted with something you couldn’t place—disappointment, perhaps? Annoyance?

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice smooth but laced with authority. “And lie on the table.”

For a moment, your mind refused to process the command. Your eyes widened, flicking to where his finger pointed—your tunic.

“Augustus, I can—" you began to stammer, panic rising. “I’ll call for one of the—”

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated, his tone harder now. Impatience flickered in his eyes.

You knew better than to defy him. Slowly, you obeyed, pulling your tunic over your head and climbing onto the table, kneeling, heart pounding in your chest. You focused on your hands, clasped tightly in your lap, until his fingers tilted your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

He was enjoying this.

The power, the fear radiating from you—it fed his dark desires. A thin sheen of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten in the dim candlelight, like prey trapped in the jaws of its predator.

“What did I ask you to do?” His voice was soft, mocking.

“You...you asked me to take off my garments,” you whispered, voice trembling.

“And?”

“And...to lie on the table.”

A satisfied smirk curled his lips as he released your chin. His brow arched in silent command, daring you to continue.

The table beneath you felt impossibly cold, a stark contrast to the heat building in the room as Geta’s gaze roamed over your body. It sends shivers through your entire body. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you, drinking in the sight of your trembling form.

Without a word, he reached for the platter of exotic fruits beside him. His movements were slow, and deliberate, as though savoring the control he held over the moment. He reached for a ripe fig, its skin taut and glossy, and placed it just above your chest, the juice beginning to leak as it pressed against your warm skin. His lips quirked into a small, cruel smile as he watched your body shudder involuntarily at the touch.

“You make a perfect platter,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and dark amusement. He moved slowly, savoring each moment. A slice of pear next, laid carefully just below the fig, the scent of the fruit mingling with the faint sweetness of wine still on his breath. His fingers grazed your skin as he worked, but never lingered, keeping you on edge, anticipating his every move.

Geta's eyes darkened, the predatory gleam intensifying as he added more fruit—a handful of berries scattered across your stomach, a slice of melon placed delicately at the curve of your hip. Each touch was firm but restrained, as though he was barely holding himself back from something deeper, something darker. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that seemed to dance along with his teasing touches.

You couldn’t move. His power held you in place, a predator watching his prey. So you lay still, every inch of your body vibrating with tension, not from fear alone, but from something else—something you couldn’t define. His control over you was absolute, his gaze devouring every inch of you as if you were the feast laid before him.

He leaned over, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Slowly, he picked up a piece of fig from your chest with his fingers, bringing it to his mouth. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something beyond cruelty—desire. It was faint, but unmistakable, lurking behind his usual mask of detachment.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.

He placed another fig on the hollow of your throat, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than before. His thumb brushed your pulse, feeling the rapid beat beneath your skin. “So fragile,” he whispered, the words almost tender, but laced with an unsettling hunger. He bent forward, his lips brushing against the fig as he bit into it, his breath hot and uneven as his mouth hovered dangerously close to your skin. When he reached the last grape, just above your navel, he paused. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your skin, and you could feel the tension coil tighter. His fingers trailed across your side, light, but enough to remind you who held your life in his hands.

“Such a waste of good food,” he whispered, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, “on something so...fragile.”

Your breath caught, your chest rising and falling beneath the weight of his attention. Every part of you was strung tight as if you were one heartbeat away from breaking.

He continued his meticulous display, placing another slice of fruit at your navel, then further down, along your hips. His fingers, now slick with juices, traced along your sides, leaving a sticky sweetness behind. His touch felt heavier now, more deliberate as if the slow build of his desire was becoming too much for even him to contain.

Geta’s eyes, once hard and calculating, were now glazed with something more primal. He stood still for a moment, staring down at you, his breath coming faster, his chest rising and falling as if he were fighting an internal battle. His hand hovered above you, fingers twitching with barely restrained hunger. He was losing his control. His fingers trailed down your lower belly and you gasped when you felt his fruits-coated fingers sliding between your folds. Both of you were surprised about how wet you were already and before you could close your thighs, Geta’s mouth was on your core. His tongue lapped a long strip, tasting both you and the fruit juices, offering him the perfect mix of sweet and salty. You shiver, a soft moan escaping your mouth. Without even thinking of it, your hips started to move on their own accord, chasing the pleasure your emperor was offering to you.

‘Don’t move. We don’t want you to waste those delicious fruits right?’ His voice was commanding, firm yet you could hear a hint of playfulness. ‘Yes’, you sigh as you feel another lap.

‘Yes, who?’ There he was. The egocentric emperor. You knew he liked to show his power and loved to be praised. ‘Yes, my emperor.’ Oh, he wasn’t ready for that boldness, and he would never admit that he enjoyed your possessiveness at this moment.

He hums against your core, sending vibrations through your entire body before he starts sucking at your clit. You cried out from the pleasure and cried out more when he added two fingers to the mix, cradling them to reach that sweet spot inside your velvet walls. The rings adorning his fingers were a cold contrast with your heated body, sending shivers down your spine. Geta could feel you shaking as he went faster so his other hand landed on your belly, pinning you down in place, soiling the sleeve of his silk toga in the process.

Without warning, you cum all other his face, drenching his collar at the same time. When he finally let go of your pussy, he crawled to your laying form, a devilish smile plastered on his face. He came close to your ear, getting a bite of a slice of pear he displayed on your collarbone earlier. His voice was low as he whispered.

‘Take that platter with you and bring it to my quarter. I’m not done eating.’

#mykuup #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn gladiator ii #jquinn #joe quinn #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #geta x f!reader

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 22 days ago

Text

All Dolled Up

IDW Megatron x reader

Gender neutral AFAB, reader wears a skirt and a bralette, doll play, Megatron is a big big boy, sub reader, Dom Megatron

You looked up from your Switch when you heard the door of your shared habsuite slide open. Megatron stood there, his imposing silhouette too big to be contained within the doorway.

He slid into the room, his pedes making heavy thumping noises against the metal floor. His red optics drooping in exhaustion and his optic ridges furrowed in agitation. You set your Switch down and sat up to watch your lover move to the chest he had upon his desk.

The hair on your body rose in excitement knowing exactly what Megatron had planned.

He massive servos dug through the various outfits he had for you.

“Come here,” the baritone rumble of his vocalizers vibrated through your body. He turned to you with a servo held out for you to climb into. You eagerly shed your clothing and climbed into his servo fully nude.

After a long day of dealing with Rodimus, as much as he loved the mech, having you be so obedient made everything better. Your soft organic form so warm within his servo, so fragile. You looked up at him like he was your entire universe. It made his spark skip a beat seeing you so trusting and so loving.

Megatron guided you to the desk, letting you step off his servo and stand eagerly next to the chest. He hummed holding up different sets of lingerie up to your body. You maintained your focus on Megatron’s optics as he scrutinized every piece of fabric until finally settling on one.

A purple lace bralette with a floral motif, a high waisted garter belt with straps that clung to crotchless panties and thigh high lace socks.

He carefully guided your body into the lingerie. First he slipped the bralette over your head, adjusting the straps and making sure you were comfortable before guiding your feet into the stockings. His digits glided up your leg worshipping the skin there before he helped you slip on the crotchless panties and clipped them to the garter belt.

Megatron took a step back looking over you with a thoughtful gaze. “Beautiful,” he finally muttered before going back into his chest of clothes.

He pulled out a dress that came to about your mid thigh that had a low cut back and a turtleneck collar. He held the fabric over your body before deciding to move onto a different piece. You obediently stayed still letting the massive gladiator dress you like a doll.

Megatron pulled out another dress this time black with a puritan collar, ruffled sleeves, and a thick frilly petticoat. His optics slid over the dress then to you before guiding you to him with a hum. He unzipped the back of the dress and held it out for you to step in. Using his servos to balance yourself, you slid into the dress nicely letting Megatron guide the sleeves over your arms and reach around to zip the dress up.

You could hear is vents humming in excitement as he dug through more of the clothes looking for shoes. He pulled out a pair of shiny black stilettos for you to wear. You slid your feet into the shoes with Megatron’s help.

You remained still looking up at Megatron expectantly. His gaze softened as he mulled over your form. His perfect little human doll. He again returned to the chest to pull out a box that flipped open to display all sorts of lipsticks, eyeshadows, mascara, and eyeliner.

Megtron stroked your face with his thumb while his index rested under your chin. You pushed your face into his affections earning a soft hum from the mech. His optics scanned your face thoughtfully as he considered what makeup would go best with your outfit.

“Try this one, darling,” Megatron said pointing to a deep reddish purple lipstick. While Megatron liked dressing you himself he also enjoyed watching you do your makeup. Dexterous little hands gripping the tube of lipstick to rub over lips he had tasted time and time again. You beckoned Megatron to come closer and to lower himself which he obeyed.

A deep laughter rumbled through his frame as you used the metal on his chasis as a mirror. You popped the lipstick back into its tube giving your lips a little smack before continuing with your eyeliner and mascara.

Megatron waited patiently letting you use his gunmetal chasis as a mirror. Your little hand pressed against the metal to steady him as you brushed mascara through your eyelashes then finished off your look with a simple winged liner.

You batted your eyelashes up at Megatron as he stroked the top of your head. “You look ravishing,” Megatron murmured. He picked you up with a servo around your waist as he made his way to his berth. Your arms rested overtop his thumb as you stared lovingly up at the former warlord.

He sat down with a huff before swinging his legs up onto the berth and settling with you on his chasis. His servo was held behind you to cradle your much smaller form as you sat.

“Thank you for dressing me up, Megsy,” you purred crawling towards his face plate. You were probably the only person who could get away with calling Megatron such a nickname. “Thank you for indulging me, my love,” Megatron smiled when he felt your hands on his face plate. You kissed the tip of his nose leaving a purple mark where your lips had once been.

You kissed down his faceplate till you reached his dermas. He servo still cupped behind you as if shielding you from the world. His dermas parted as you took his upper lip between your own. Your purple lipstick leaving a smudge as you kissed and sucked at his lip. Megtron’s entire chasis rumbled in an appreciative groan. You spread your legs wider where you sat so your massive lover could feel the mess he was creating. Your bare pussy made contact with Megatron’s metal plating with a soft wet noise. Megatron curled his digits around you as he let out a low moan.

His glossa peeked between his dermas to lick at your lips. You gladly parted your lips letting the large appendage fill your mouth. You moaned sucking on his tongue as he tasted every crevice of your mouth. You leaned back into his servo letting him support the weight of your body.

His tongue slipped from your mouth leaving drool to dribble down your chin. Your lipstick now smudged and warped across your mouth. “So precious,” Megatron praised taking in your messy form. He delighted not only in dolling up his sweet conjux but also tearing them apart until they were nothing but a messy pile of tears and his fluids.

“Lift your skirt,” Megatron ordered.

You did exactly what he asked, gingerly lifting your skirt to reveal your glistening cunt. The pubic hairs along your pussy messy with your slick. “Hm,” Megatron purred running a digit over your arousal. “I’ve trained you so well.” He lifted you onto his open intake with your legs straddling either side of his faceplate. Megatron’s hot breath steaming around your vulva made you gasp and arch your back.

His tongue took a generous lick over your arousal making you whine and drop your skirt to hold onto his face. Megatron’s servos held your hips delicately helping to guide you while you rode his mouth.

Megatron’s dermas wrapped around your pelvis as his tongue dragged from your anus to your clit in a mess of drool. Your entire pelvis area felt hot and humid within Megatron’s intake. His optics were half lidded and entirely focused on your face as you furrowed your eyebrows and panted out his name. You tasted divine on his glossa like a luxurious piece of energon candy. He couldn’t help the moan that vibrated out of his intake and directly onto your pussy. You could practically feel his baritone voice in your bones.

“Meg!” You cried out in a moan. Megtron continued sucking and licked at your bare pussy with your pelvis fully situated in his mouth. He teasingly bit at your lower body letting his teeth graze at your skin. You yelped lurching forward. Megtron took your new position as invitation to shove as much of his tongue as he could into your wet heat. You whined humping back against his tongue feeling your hole stretch to accommodate the wet appendage. He fucked you on his tongue turning you into a wet mess pleading for him to make you cum. Megatron swirled his glossa in your hole soaking up every glistening drop of arousal your body could make. Your hole pulsed deliciously around his tongue. It amazed him to no end how small you were compared to him. Just his tongue filled you more than any human cock could.

His modesty plate released with a hiss as he gripped his spike with his other servo. The red biolights pulsing in delight at the noises you made. You gripped onto Megatron’s faceplate with all your strength wailing his name as you came into his mouth. His tongue didn’t slow down continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. He gripped the base of his spike trying to keep his excitement down as you rode out your high.

You slumped onto his hooked nose holding onto the protruding bridge with both your hands as you panted. Megatron’s tongue slowed before finally pulling out of your wet hole. He took one final suck around your pelvis making you whine before pulling you off of his mouth and back onto his chasis.

Megatron could have overloaded just from the sight of your debauched form slumped against his servo. Your legs spread with your skirt pulled over your knees. Your pelvis and thighs soaked with his drool as some mascara began dripping from the tears in your eyes.

“How do you feel, my love?” Megatron’s baritone voice rumbled your pussy making you squirm. “Fuck,” you panted running your fingers over your soaked slit. The fabric of the crotchless panties were absolutely soaked through from sitting inside Megatron’s intake.

Megatron chuckled as he released his spike from his grip so he could bat away at your fingers. You obeyed spreading your legs further to make room for Megatron’s massive digits.

He ran the cold metal of his index over your slit giving your clit a rough rub. Your whole body jerked trying to get away from the over stimulation but Megatron’s servo kept you in place. He slid his digit down your slit until he found your hole.

“Oh god,” you whined feeling Megatron push his digit into you. “Oh fuck it’s too much!”

Megatron ignored your pleas pushing his digit in until you could reach the first joint. Your head lopped backwards with your mouth agape. Your pussy had never been more full and stretched out than on Megatron’s fingers. Tears sprung from your eyes making your mascara leak down your cheeks in black streaks.

Megatron remained focused on fucking his index into your hole watching how your arousal and his saliva mixed and frothed. He could feel his spike twitching and leaking in neglect. Slowly he removed the servo he used to cradle your spent body allowing you to gently flop onto his chasis with your legs spread and your skirt bunched up to your hips.

Through your blurry vision you could see Megatron reaching for his spike and taking the engorged member into his metallic hand. He was pumping himself in time with how he fucked his digit into you.

“It hurts,” you whined clenching around Megatron.

“You know your safe word,” Megatron scolded. “Until then that’s not my problem.”

You tightened at Megatron’s cruel treatment earning a rumbling chuckle from the mech. “How lucky am I to have such a conjux,” he purred memorizing the squelching wet noises your body made. “Such an obedient hole for me to use.” You bucked your hips into his digit feeling your clit begin throb as the painful overstimulation turned into pleasure once again.

Megatron set a brutal pace fucking you on his digit so hard your whole body moved with it. His gritted his teeth feeling his valve clench in time with your cunt as he fisted his spike with reckless abandon. Your juices leaked around his digit making obscene noises coupled with Megatron’s heavy exvents.

You whined out arching your back and clawing at whatever you could grip onto. You lost feeling in your abdomen as your orgasm hit you once again. A pathetic dribble of squirt leaked from your urethra in a steady stream and onto Megatron’s digit. He cursed while grunting your name as his own overload took him over. Transfluid shot from his spike adding lubricant to his servo as he pulled his member up and down before finally stopping.

Your breathing was heavy as was Megatron’s venting. He slowly pulled his digit out of you marveling at how your greedy hole still clung to him before releasing with a pop. Now throbbing around nothing, your spent pussy gaped in your orgasmic bliss. Megatron remained fixated at how your pussy pulsed for a quick second before licking your release off of his finger.

“You did so well, my love,” Megatron praised while scooping you up with his clean hand. Your body felt boneless and limp as you let Megatron maneuver you how he pleased. He sat you back up onto his chasis with your bare cunt against his metal plating. You moaned at the contact but also winced still sensitive from your orgasm. Megatron ran his servo over his spike once more seeing your mascara leak down your cheeks, your lipstick a mess, and your eyeliner smudged around your eyes. “Now stay just like that,” he groaned rubbing his spike once more to your thoroughly used form. “Perfect.”

“Pretty good night, huh?” Rodimus tried not to laugh behind his servo.

Megatron turned to look at the younger bot with a confused and agitated look. The purple lipstick you had worn still stained his nose and around his intake with more splattered around his neck cables. “If you have something to say then speak clearly, Rodimus,” Megatron grumbled trying to find his place again on his datapad.

“Listen, you’d probably better wash up before Magnus gets here,” Rodimus said putting his hands up in front of him. “You know how he is with PDA.”

Megatron turned his datapad off trying to decipher what Rodimus was saying before turning back to the device and seeing his purple stained reflection staring right back at him. From the looks of it, it was a pretty good night indeed.

#transformers #megatron #megatron x reader #valveplug #transformers x reader #idw megatron #macaddam #transformers smut #megatron valveplug

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sanarsi · 4 months ago

Text

Victory’s your only payment

lover!Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Summary: Your general has betrayed you. Your anger is greater than the love you have for him, so you send him to the arena to fight for his last breath. Warnings: +18, MDNI, angst, smut, unprotected PIV, creampie, dom!Marcus, deaths, mention of cheating, killing, violence, slavery Wordcount: 3,1k An: I finally convinced myself to write something with our wonderful general. Even though I resisted it for a long time!! I hope you like it because it's not something I usually write xx Music I worked with: Gladiator - Jann

Masterlist

Your love was great.

Of the two of you, you were always the merciful one.

You were the one people loved.

You were better than your tyrant brother.

You were above the desire for bloodshed.

So how on earth did you stand there giving a speech in front of thousands of people? How on earth did your brother stand in the shadows looking at you in adoration? How on earth did you become like him?

Because your anger was greater than your mercy.

"The great General Acacius!" you said loudly with a wide smile looking around the Colosseum. "He brought our Empire to the other end of the world!"

The crowd began to shout with joy at your words. At words of adoration for the best of the best.

For your illustrious lover.

For the man who betrayed you.

"Today you will see him fight for victory on his native soil!" you continued, sickening feeling of power seeping through you. Your brother laughed sincerely delighted with your words and what you had led to.

In the end, it turned out that you were not so different after all...

"For your entertainment, the great General Marcus Acacius!" you shouted and the crowd seethed with emotion. You laughed and clapped your hands as your heart blossomed with increasing cruelty for the aforementioned man.

You gracefully sat down in your seat next to your brother who looked at you with love. But you only stared at the men who began to enter the arena. Wild beasts dressed in various pieces of armor and various weapons. All to provide the greatest entertainment.

You smiled with satisfaction, assessing the chances of all the slaves in the fight that was to go down in history.

Acacius' death had to be a spectacle.

You had to see him fight for his life. You had to see him pay for what he had done to you. He had to suffer for his sins.

Your brother handed you a cup of wine and looked at you piercingly.

"Sister, I am beyond delighted with your transformation," he finally commented on something that had been on his mind for the past hour. You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him because you had a feeling that this wasn't all he wanted to say.

You were not wrong, as always.

"But I have to ask..." he said with a wide smile and leaned closer to you. Excitement danced in his eyes. "What did our faithful General do that you sent him to certain death?"

You licked your lips from the sweet, tart taste of wine and leaned back comfortably in your chair, lifting your chin proudly. You looked towards the arena, hearing the crowd narrowing louder.

The show had begun.

"He sinned through pride."

Your brother smiled devilishly and began to laugh like a madman.

The screams of the crowd and their laughter became a distant background for the man who had just proudly entered the arena. Alone against a group of gladiators armed to the teeth.

You watched as he stopped a few meters away from them, bowing in respect only for a moment for the bloody slaughter to begin.

You were silent as your brother commented with fascination on every blow and body that fell to the sand.

"He's good," he hissed then laughed seeing the general with a scream plunge his sword into his opponent's stomach and let him fall limply to the ground.

He was panting heavily and you saw even from a distance how his animal side took control of his body. Blood and sweat ran down his face and the instinct of a predator lurked in his eyes. And even though you didn't want to, you weren't surprised that he was the only one left alive.

You cursed him in your thoughts first and then yourself.

Marcus raised his hands to the sides walking around, causing the crowd to cheer. You clenched your jaw tighter as you watched him bask in the adoration of the people. But when his gaze fell on your balcony, his pride disappeared.

You stared at him and noticed a shadow of… guilt?

That only enraged you more.

You looked at your brother with darkness in your eyes. It may have been the first time he had seen you like this, but he immediately understood what you wanted. He looked towards the guard, motioning for him to come over.

“Lions,” he commanded.

One word that made your insides clench painfully. Your gaze fell on the General again, who already seemed to know what awaited him. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, not taking his eyes off you. You were proud to finally reach the power that you always had at your fingertips.

It was enough that you felt wronged.

It was enough that he hit your soft spot and your tyranny seemed to be just beginning.

The gates on his left opened and the familiar roar of wild animals reached his ears immediately. He nodded, giving you a sign that he understood your decision and accepted his punishment. And you only lifted your chin higher, showing him your superiority.

He sighed deeply one last time before turning towards the two lions approaching him. He prepared himself, but both males began to circle him from two different sides.

The Emperor laughed maniacally at the wonderful spectacle. Even you did not despise the satisfied smile when the first lion jumped on the man's back, knocking him to the ground. The crowd erupted as the general fought the beast to stay alive. And something dark woke up in you as you saw him on the brink of death. But the animal roared in pain as Marcus pierced his insides.

Shouts of joy echoed around and you growled angrily, jumping up from your seat. You walked closer to the barriers, looking at everything with greater attention. Blood stained the sand red as he pulled the sword out of the beast. You clenched your hands tighter on the cold stone as the second lion attacked him by surprise.

Excitement woke up in your lower abdomen as a cry of pain left the man's lips.

So close.

He was so close to paying for what he did to you.

But then a sword pierced the beast’s neck. You screamed in anger, slamming your hands against the barrier. Marcus quickly got out from under the dead body and limped, standing on his own.

"Fuckin’ die!" Your scream pierced the crowd's cheers.

General looked in your direction seeing the hatred you were looking at him with. He winced from the pain of his thigh where the claws of the big cat had dug into it. Limping, he moved closer to the balcony to experience the emperor's decision.

You were warming yourself with rage at the sight of his still living body. Silence reigned as your brother made his decision. But he was waiting for your consent. This was your show. You glanced at him as he continued to hold his thumb in a neutral position.

"Sister?" he raised his eyebrows with a smile hoping, that your desire to kill was so great that he would be able to issue the death penalty on him.

But that would not be enough.

Now that your hatred for him had only increased, watching him die was not enough.

"I'll kill him myself," you said seriously. For a moment you stared at each other in silence. Until his smile turned into a devilish grin when he raised his thumb up, sparing him the life you were supposed to take from him later.

The crowd was seething at the emperor's decision. You met Marcus' gaze again.

And that one look was enough for him to know that it wasn't over.

The moment night fell, your feet led you to the gladiator cells.

A dark robe hid your identity as you followed a single guard. Silence reigned all around, broken only by your footsteps and the jingle of keys.

Marcus jumped out of bed when he saw the guard at his cell. Their eyes met before he opened the bars and the hooded figure immediately squeezed through, entering. The bars closed and your hood fell over your shoulders with the sound of the lock closing.

Marcus clenched his jaw as your eyes met. He had never had the honor of seeing so much hatred in your eyes as he had in the past few dozen hours.

Eyes that once sparkled, now boiled with fire.

It was amazing how your love for him disappeared in a split second when you found out he had fucked another woman. While you faithfully waited for him.

Stupid girl.

"If the lions couldn't kill you, I will," you said, getting straight to the heart of the situation that had forced you to come here.

The sound of the blade being pulled out cut through the silence as you pulled the knife from behind your back. It was miserable.

Just like his life.

He didn't deserve the ornate blade from the imperial forges.

You quickly covered the few steps that separated you and put the knife to his throat. But he didn't move. And his eyes didn't leave yours for a moment. He was as unmoved as a stone. He looked at you even with slight regret.

Your heated eyes stared into his gentle ones.

"You should have died on the arena. You would have spared yourself my hateful gaze before you died," you hissed, pressing the blade harder against his throat until a few drops of blood ran down his skin.

And he remained silent.

You felt another surge of anger at his stoic calmness.

"Say something," you growled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. Your heart clenched painfully and the feeling of resentment you felt for him spread through your chest.

"Then you better not say anything anymore," you hissed, barely holding back your breaking voice.

"Dearest..." he began gently, almost pleadingly.

"No," you interrupted him sharply and tears of hatred appeared in your eyes. "Don't call me that. Never again," you said, starting to tremble from the emotions that were starting to overwhelm you.

Marcus stared at you with pain in his eyes. You had every right to stab him in the heart. His betrayal was completely unnecessary and a stupid decision.

But time couldn't be turned back.

That's why he wasn't going to stop the blade that was cutting his skin more and more. It was so blunt that it was starting to strangle him more, but he remained unmoved.

Your chin trembled from holding back tears so you had to look away from him, catching a shaky breath.

"I was fucking waiting for you," you said with a broken voice. Your body began to be taken over by conflicting emotions.

You wanted to cut his throat while listening to his delicate whispers.

"I was waiting for you every day." You looked at him and the first tear ran down your cheek. "And you took the first whore that came your way," you hissed with venom.

You took the knife away, cutting his skin more and you took a few steps back, starting to walk in circles. There was a war in your head. Watching him die in the arena turned out to be an easier option than killing him with your own hands.

Not when he looked at you with the eyes you loved.

The ones you had missed for a few years.

You rubbed your forehead with your hand, feeling how you were shaking inside.

"Oh gods," you whispered overwhelmed.

Marcus immediately took advantage of the fact that you were standing with your back to him. He grabbed your elbow tightly and turned you towards him.

"Leave me alone!" you screamed but it was too late because you leaned into his arms that tightly embraced you. You started to struggle trying to push yourself away from his chest.

"Shhh," he whispered when you cried and your movements became weaker. His arms held you tightly not letting you move even an inch away.

You gave up starting to cry against his heated skin. He rested his cheek on your head starting to stroke your hair.

"I hate you," you moaned through your tears and hit him in the chest once more.

"I know. I'm sorry, my dearest," he whispered soothingly.

You cried louder at the name that only in his mouth sounded like an aphrodisiac.

"You should die."

Another helpless hit on his chest.

Marcus was silent holding your delicate body against his. He let you cry out all the regrets that were inside you.

Your hatred turned into despair.

And he really wanted the despair to turn into forgiveness.

"Kill me if you want, I won't stop you," he began confidently. "But let me make amends first," he added gently.

You calmed your shallow breathing and blinked a few times, getting rid of the tears that blurred your vision. You moved away from him as much as he allowed you to and looked up at him. His eyes were tired from the wars he had lived through and there were a lot of wounds and scars on his face.

"I can't even look at you," you said with venom.

And yet he still looked at you with love.

"So don't look," he said as if it was an answer to everything and a second later his lips were on yours. You squeezed your eyes shut, refraining from kissing him back.

He was kissing another woman with those lips.

"Please, darling," he whispered against your lips and his hand tangled in your hair, not letting you pull away. "After we’re done, you’ll stab me in the heart."

You shivered at his warm breath.

"It belongs to you anyway," he whispered and pressed his lips to yours again.

This time, you reluctantly gave in to his will and began to kiss him back. He immediately moaned, pulling you closer and crept into your mouth, deepening the caress. You moaned at the strength and passion with which his tongue dominated yours. His lips were enough for you to start to melt in his arms.

His movements were confident and deliberate as he pressed you against the wall with his body. The cold stone against your hot skin sent shivers down your spine. But it was his hands sliding down that made you moan.

"I fuckin’ missed you," he gasped into your mouth before kissing your neck.

His fingers immediately began to gather the material of your dress that covered your legs. You closed your eyes, tilting your head as he bit into your skin. You wrapped your hands around his neck and your fingers automatically found their way to his silver curls.

The moment his rough hands touched your thighs, he grabbed them tightly and in one move he lifted you up. You hugged him tightly around the waist, letting him press you harder against the wall. His beard teased your delicate skin as he slowly left traces of his teeth down to your cleavage.

He reached down with one hand to pull out his hard cock and immediately positioned it at your hole. You moaned as he ran the tip along the length of your slit to collect the arousal that had leaked out of you.

Then you screamed as he entered you in one hard movement. He groaned in relief when he was fully inside you and buried his face in your neck, reveling in the feeling of your pussy clenching around him in shock.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, digging his fingers under your thighs and began to thrust into you. You shivered, moaning loudly every time his reminded you of how long you had been celibate. "Tell me you missed me," he repeated more confidently and sped up the movements of his hips. He thrust into you fast and hard, with the desire to mark your body as his once again.

"No," you choked out, digging your nails into his neck at the pain and pleasure that spread through your insides.

"Then lie," he growled and thrust into you harder until you whimpered in pain. He slowed his movements for a moment to straighten up and look at your face twisted in pleasure. "Lie," he repeated, panting against your lips. You looked at him with a misty gaze and whimpered, feeling the approaching fulfillment.

"I missed you," you moaned, getting closer, and your lips died halfway. “I missed you so fuckin’ much,” you repeated against his lips, kissing him clumsily as he once again sped up his thrusts into your leaking cunt. His cock was rock hard from being inside you after so many months of being apart.

You didn't have to wait long before your orgasm hit your body. You screamed, pressing harder into his mouth and he growled at how hard you were clenching around him.

"That's it..." he groaned, thrusting into you harder until you couldn't kiss him anymore.

You squealed every time his cock slammed into you hard until your juices started to drip down his balls.

Finally, he too felt his orgasm approaching.

"I'll leave my son inside you," he said, parting his lips with pleasure. "He'll take care of you when I'm gone," he whispered against your lips and pressed himself against them so hard that you cried.

He growled throatily, cumming inside you, and he thrust into you several times until he was empty.

He stopped, panting heavily, and rested his head on your shoulder. You groaned, trying to calm your body's reactions after the shock. You stayed silent until his lips began to place lazy kisses on your neck again.

You hummed, not expecting his touch. And then he slowly pulled out of you, making you both moan at the loss. He carefully put you down on the ground and immediately pressed his lips to yours.

The passionate kiss was interrupted by him placing the knife you brought with you in your hand. You didn't even notice when he took it from you.

He pulled away from you, looking at you with a warm gaze and stroked your cheek with his fingers. His hand tightened on yours and he directed the blade straight at his chest. You blinked a few times when the red broke through the material of his shirt. You looked into his eyes, lost, but he only smiled gently and nodded encouragingly.

"Push," he whispered.

So you pushed.

#marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal smut #sanarsi fic

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ltash · 3 months ago

Text

Pest Control 141

Taskforcexfemalereader

You were ready for anything—armed combat, hostile extractions, stealth missions. But what Ghost just called you for? Well, it wasn’t in the job description.

“Oi, get to the common area,” Ghost’s voice crackled through your comms. “We’ve got a... situation.”

You rush in, ready to face some unknown terror. Turns out, the "situation" is an eight-legged monstrosity clinging to the wall, looking like it’s planning world domination. Ghost is standing in the corner, arms crossed, keeping a good six-foot distance between him and the spider.

“You serious?” you say, trying not to laugh. “Ghost, the guy who can take down a platoon single-handed, is afraid of a little spider?”

“It’s not little. Look at the size of it!” Ghost says, nodding toward the creature. It’s huge. You’ll give him that. But still, the irony is too rich to ignore.

“Fine,” you sigh, grabbing a broom like a true warrior. “I’ll take care of it. Stay back, tough guy.”

You inch closer, broom in hand, ready for the mission. Ghost watches closely, clearly not trusting the spider to stay put. With the grace of a seasoned soldier, you raise the broom and swipe—only to miss entirely. Instead of falling to the floor, the spider launches itself… straight onto Ghost’s chest.

The next few seconds are pure chaos.

Ghost lets out a noise you’d never expect from him—half a growl, half a yelp. His hands flail as he tries to bat the spider away, but it’s too late. The thing is clinging to him like a special ops agent on a stealth mission.

“Get it off! Get it off me!” Ghost shouts, running around like he’s under enemy fire.

“Hold still!” you yell, trying to catch up to him with the broom.

“Hold still?!” Ghost snaps, dodging your first broom swing as you chase him around the room like a scene from a slapstick comedy.

In the middle of the commotion, Soap walks in, immediately bursting into laughter. “What the hell is going on in here?”

You barely glance at him, still in hot pursuit of Ghost. “Spider. On Ghost. Stand clear!”

“On Ghost?” Soap is doubled over now, laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe.

Ghost is still running in circles, arms flailing. “For the love of—just hit it already!”

You aim another swing at Ghost’s chest, but he dodges, and the broom whacks him in the shoulder instead.

“That’s me, you bloody idiot!” he shouts.

“Stop moving, and I’ll hit the spider, not you!”

In one desperate move, Ghost trips over the couch, falls backward, and lands flat on the floor, the spider still crawling around like it owns him.

“Now’s your chance!” Soap shouts, cheering you on like it’s a championship match.

You raise the broom like a gladiator about to strike the final blow and bring it down. This time, you hit the target. The spider goes flying across the room, landing on the window with a satisfying *splat*.

Ghost lies on the floor, panting. “You hit me at least three times, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I got the spider, didn’t I?” you grin, offering a hand to help him up.

He swats it away, muttering, “I’d rather face a whole squad of enemies than deal with that thing again.”

Soap is practically on the floor laughing at this point, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, mate, this is the best day of my life. Ghost, scared of a little spider!”

Ghost pulls himself up, glaring at you both. “Say one more word about this, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Soap wipes a tear away. “Noted. But I’m definitely telling Price.”

You shake your head, trying to contain your laughter as Ghost storms out. Mission accomplished, but you’ll never let him live this one down.

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in1-nutshell · 5 months ago

Note

OK, we've seen how Soundwave takes care of other people's children.

But now I think it's time to see him as a parent. Could you write a story about a Soundwave x daughter with the opposite personality?

Another daughter to add to the list!

Will be adding her official canon name later on.

You can find it in the link at the bottom of the 'WELCOME' page.

Hope you enjoy!

Soundwave with a daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Familial, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Since the beginning Buddy had always kept Soundwave on his pedes

The first time they met cemented that fact.

Soundwave and Megatronus were walking back to their quarters when they spotted something moving in the ruble.

They didn’t think of anything at first, maybe it was a turbofox in the trash heap.

Soundwave froze in his tracks when he heard the familiar sounds of chirping coming from one of the bins.

Soundwave went closer and froze when he saw a sparkling inside the bin playing with some wires.

Before he could do anything, the trashbot had grabbed the bin with the sparkling in it.

Soundwave: “Megatronus!”

Soundwave started climbing on the large trashbot. Megatronus: “Soundwave what are you doing?!” Soundwave trying to reach the bin: “There’s a sparkling in the bin!” Little chirps get louder. Megatronus: “By the Allspark!” Later… Orion walking to the gladiator’s quarters. Megatronus: “Orion!” Orion smiles as he turns around: “Mega—By the Pious Pool! What happened to you two!?” Megatronus and Soundwave were covered in dirty and scraps. Soundwave had a little bundle in his arms. Orion: “Is that a sparkling?” Soundwave: “Yes.” Orion: “How did all of… this happen?” Megatronus and Soundwave: “Trashbot.”

Soundwave had originally planned on taking her to the nearby orphanage the next day.

He was a gladiator for Primus sake!

He wasn’t fit to be a caretaker.

But all that changed when he was outside the doors of the orphanage.

The little chirps and buzzes from the sparkling grew louder as he drew closer.

Soundwave’s servo ghosted over the handles of the doors looking down at the sparkling.

The sparkling had gently placed both their servos on his faceplate.

Megatronus in his habsuite sharpening his blades. Soundwave enters the room. Megatronus without looking up: “I see you’ve finally return—” Soundwave: “Hold please.” Megatronus looks up and is shocked to see the sparkling from the day before being thrusted into his faceplate. He quickly holds the giggling sparkling: “I thought you were going to return her?” Soundwave: “She’s mine now.” Megatronus: “What?” Soundwave: “Mine.”

It was difficult to keep the sparkling safe within the arena and quarters.

For one, Soundwave and Megatronus had made more allies within the gladiator ranks to help keep watch of the little one, especially when inspections came around.

And two, this sparkling was highly energetic, clumsy, and accidental prone.

Thankfully if Buddy liked the babysitters, all they had to worry was the sparkling getting a new dent from touching a smooth surface.

However, if she doesn’t like them, Buddy is going to hide.

No one has been successful in finding the sparkling.

It’s only when Soundwave is at the front door is when she comes out.

When Soundwave has repairs done, it’s usually Uncle Megatronus and the minicons who watch over her.

Soundwave enters the habsuite ready to pick up Buddy. He sees Megatronus lightly tossing Buddy in the air with Lazerbeak playfully hovering nearby. CLICK! Megatronus freezes hearing the click pulling the sparkling closer to his chassis. He turns to see Soundwave with a picture him and Buddy on his visor. Megatronus: “Soundwave… delete that.” Soundwave: “I’ll delete it.” Megatronus: "Good—” Soundwave: "After I send this to myself and to Pax.” Megatronus: "Soundwave! He doesn’t need—I mean—no one needs to see that!” Soundwave: “Too late.” With Orion… Orion nearly spits out his energon cube seeing the picture. Ratchet looking at him with some concern: “You all right Pax?” Orion coughs a bit before showing him the photo. Ratchet nearly glitches seeing it.

On certain inspection days, Buddy is sent to Uncle Orion and Uncle Ratchet until the inspection is over.

Soundwave is not as close to the bots as Megatronus is, but he trusts Megatronus enough to let her go.

He still has no idea what made her love the two bots so much.

Buddy loves her little family.

But things started to change when Megatronus finally got his movement going.

The movement for change.

The movement that made Soundwave take a vow of silence.

Buddy understood to a point it was to help Uncle Megatronus… but that didn’t mean the transition was smooth.

It got easier to read Soundwave’s frame movements over time, but to say it was a pain to understand at first would be an understatement.

Soundwave pointing to the top of the shelf. Buddy: “I can get it for you!” Buddy starts piling some boxes and data pads to reach the top of the shelf. Buddy holding something: “Is this it?” Soundwave shakes his helm before pointing again. Buddy throws the object over her shoulder and grabs another object: “How about this thing?” Soundwave shakes his helm before looking at the pile shake. He starts rushing to the pile as it falls. Buddy shrieks as she falls. BAM! The two end up falling in the heap. Buddy suddenly bursts out laughing. Soundwave had a box stuck on his helm.

Buddy didn’t quite understand what had happened between Uncle Megatronus, now Megatron, and Orion, now Optimus Prime.

All she was told was that Orion was a traitor and any of his follwers were now considered the enemy.

Buddy took those words to spark.

While she could not agree with everything the Decepticon’s did, she was still a Con through and through.

Buddy wanted to join the spy division just like her father, but it was immediately denied by both him and Megatron himself.

Megatron: “Buddy, this is just getting repetive at this point. Our answer is no.” Soundwave: “No.” Buddy pouting a bit: “If I can just get a chance to prove that I can be just a good spy—” Megatron: “Buddy, you do not have the necessary skill set a spy has.” Buddy waves her servos back: “What makes you say that!” Buddy’s servo bumps into a passing drone, who in return bumps into several other drones in an almost domino effect before a bucket goes flying and lands on her helm; she yelps a bit trying to get it off only to smack face first into the wall. Megatron and Soundwave wince at the display. Soundwave walks over and carefully plucks the bucket from her helm. Buddy looks at him with a sheepish expression. Soundwave: “You have… your… answer…no… spying for… you.”

Instead, Buddy gets partnered up with Breakdown in overseeing the Vechicons.

It wasn’t a bad job really.

Most of the Vechicons were nice and she rather enjoyed working alongside Breakdown.

Breakdown doesn’t mind working with the youngest Con on the Nemeisis.

In a way it was refreshing, especially after dealing with Starscream.

Since buddy worked so close to Breakdown, it was only natural that she’d get close to Knockout.

Knockout cares for the kid, he does.

But by Primus does he nearly get strokes every time she comes into the medbay with new dents or something on her frame.

Knockout finally finishing cleaning his tools. Knockout: “Finally! Its was about time I—” KNOCK! KNOCK! Breakdown enters in with Steve and a large crate wheeled behind them. Knockout: “Did we get new equipment?” Buddy from inside the crate: “Not yet.” Knockout jumps a bit before looking inside the crate. Buddy was at the bottom of the crate in a slightly cramped position. Knockout looking at Breakdown and Steve: “And pray tell how did… this happen?” Breakdown and Steve both give each other a look. Breakdown: “Its best you don’t know.” Buddy: “If its okay with you guys, I’d really like to feel my pedes on the floor and not so close to my helm.” Knockout sighs before looking for the chainsaw: “Can’t wait to hear this story.”

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfp soundwave x reader #tfp soundwave x platonic reader

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hxney-lemcn · 1 year ago

Text

Toeing the Line — Peter Maximoff x gn! reader

summary: reader and Peter have been toeing the line between friendship and dating for a long time now. What happens when they finally give in?

tw: mention of slavery (roman empire era)

a/n: Peter is my og love. I always fall back to him, happily.

wc: 1.4k

Master List

“I’ll give you it for ten bucks,” I negotiated, a devilish smirk resting on my lips.

“What?” Scott exclaimed.

“You're right,” I nodded, trying to hold in my laughter. “It’s Boardwalk, I want twenty bucks.”

Peter let out a snort, clearly amused with the situation, Jean and Jubilee also laughing under their breaths.

“This is extortion!” Scott shouted, his furrowed brows hidden behind his sunglasses.

“I’m not forcing you,” I laughed. “If you want Boardwalk I gotta get something out of it since you already have Park Place.”

Scott scowled, Jean managing to giggle out, “You’re actually thinking about it?”

“It’s just Monopoly,” Jubilee laughed. “Don’t spend actual money over it.”

With a huff, Scott fished his wallet out of his jeans pocket. My eyes widened, not believing that he was actually gonna give me money.

“Ten,” Scott said grumpily, and I could feel his glare from behind his glasses. I looked up in fake thought, tapping my chin with my finger.

Shrugging, I handed him Boardwalk and I got my $10. The other’s groaned.

“I don’t see that being allowed in the rules,” Kurt finally piped up.

“Because it’s not,” Jubilee frowned.

“No matter who wins, (n/n)’s the real winner,” Peter laughed, nudging my side. I smiled back at him proudly. Looking over my cards, I knew I was gonna lose sooner or later, so with a quick decision, I shuffled my properties over to Peter.

“I’m putting my faith in you Pete, don’t let me down.”

Putting a hand to his chest, he stared me straight in the eyes with the most serious look, “I’d never dream of it.”

The game continued on until it was down to two. Scott and Peter. At first it seemed neck to neck, but soon the game was just dragging on. The others started chatting, losing interest, yet Scott and Peter seemed to be as competitive as ever. I laid next to Peter, watching with slight disinterest.

Finally, against all odds, Peter had rendered Scott bankrupt. “Yes!” Peter shouted, startling the others.

“Damn,” Scott moaned. “I spent ten actual dollars!” Jean rolled her eyes with a fond smile.

“You gonna buy me dinner now?” Peter joked, raising an eyebrow down at me.

“I suppose I should spoil my gladiator with our spoilers of war,” I joked back with a smile.

“Barf,” Scott fake gagged.

Peter stuck his tongue out at him, “You’re just salty you lost.”

Holding his hand out to me, Peter offered to lift me up. I raised an eyebrow in confusion but he only smiled that dorky smile of his. Once I was fully standing, we were suddenly standing in the shadow of a Wendy’s. Thankfully, I was used to his powers, and the usual sick feeling was dull.

“Isn’t it kinda early for dinner?” I asked with an amused smile.

Peter shrugged, already striding to the front doors, “Lunch, dinner? All the same, as long as my belly’s full.”

I shook my head in amusement, as he held the door open for me. Paying for our orders, our food arrived quickly, although nothing is ever quick enough for Peter. Our relationship was strange. We weren’t exactly friends, but we weren’t exactly dating either. At least we never confessed, but we seemed to have this mutual understanding about each other's feelings. We seemed to dance around the topic, toeing the line and pushing it further and further. Waiting for the line to finally disappear, for one of us to finally make a big enough move where we couldn’t ignore it any longer.

It was silly honestly. No reason for such a game when we made our feelings so abundantly clear. Honestly, a part of me just wanted to end it, to kiss him silly and spill all my affection for him. Yet another part of me enjoyed the game, enjoyed the thrill of wondering who would break first.

“If I’m the gladiator then what does that make you?” Peter questioned aloud after taking a sip from his milkshake.

“Do you want the historical answer or a sappy one?” I asked with a cheeky smile.

“Hmmm…” Peter pondered. “Give me the historical first, and then the sappy.”

I laughed a little, “Well historically, gladiators were typically slaves so…” I cringed. “I’d be classified as your owner. Which I don’t like the thought of.”

Peter blinked, before a devilish smirk rose onto his lips, “Kinky.” I shoved a french fry into his face, trying to ignore the warmth underneath my skin. Taking a bite of the fry from my hand, he continued, “If that’s the historical one, what could possibly be the sappy reply?”

I looked off the side, eating another fry as I tried to ignore the bubbling warmth simmering within me, “Uhhh, I don’t know,” I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “You’re monarch?”

“One, I don’t think that counts as sappy, more flirty,” Peter counted. “Two, if you’re gonna say somethin’ like that, you gotta do it with confidence, babe.”

My heart spiked at not only the pet name, but how he said it so nonchalantly. Said it like he knew it was meant for me and had accepted the fact. I rolled my eyes, trying to pretend like he didn’t affect me as much as he did and ate the food in front of me. My skin continued to prickle with warmth as I felt his gaze on me. Glancing up, our eyes met, and I covered my mouth as I chewed.

Once I swallowed, I asked, “What?”

“What?” Peter asked innocently. “Can’t I enjoy the view?”

I nearly choked on my soda at his reply. Yeah we flirted here and there, but never this much or this heavily. Peter had obviously finished his food already, and I noticed how my fries seemed to shrink.

“Trying to butter me up Maximoff?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Just stating the truth,” He shrugged. I rolled my eyes, finishing up the last of my food. “My place or yours?” Peter asked as we headed out.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” I shrugged. “Surprise me.”

Within a second, the colorful room of Peter Maximoff surrounded me. Band posters littered the walls as some dirty clothes laid on the floor. Clothes which vanished from sight once Peter noticed. I watched as he roamed through his cassettes. His silver hair was messy, as usual. His silver jacket and goggles were left on a chair and desk. Which meant he was left in his band tee and black skinny jeans (he wore different jeans after I told him his silver pants needed a break from time to time).

I smiled as Peter turned around, Queen was playing from the track player. Dramatically, Peter fell onto me, surprisingly gently.

I let out a dramatic groan, “You're heavy.”

Peter pouted, “Is that any way to speak to your boyfriend?” My eyes widened and I tensed up, I felt Peter tense up as well as he began rambling, trying to pull himself away, “I…uh…sorry. I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking-”

With a pounding heart, I wrapped my arms around his neck, locking him in place above me. Before he could continue rambling, saying something he may actually regret, I pulled him down by the neck, pausing just before our lips could meet.

“C-can I-”

Not letting me finish, Peter closed the gap, our lips meeting in a soft, curious kiss. My eyes closed in bliss as we both became more confident. One of his hands hesitantly moved to my waist, his thumb massaging the skin under my shirt. I panted as we pulled away, Peter’s dark brown eyes held so much affection, causing me to melt.

“I hope this isn’t too early, but I think I’m in love with you,” Peter whispered out.

I couldn't contain the smile that broke out on my face at his confession, “Well, I know I love you, my boyfriend.”

A cheesy smile broke out on his face too, “I like it when you call me that.”

“Call you what?” I asked, playing with the silver hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yours,” He replied without a beat, leaning down into another kiss.

“That was so cheesy!” I laughed, slapping his chest, pushing him onto the bed.

“And you love it,” He replied confidently, pulling into me onto his chest.

He was right, I did love it.

#peter maximoff x reader #peitro maximoff x reader #xmen x reader #x-men x reader #x mean x reader #peter maximoff #peitro maximoff #xmen #x men #x-men #evan peters x reader #evan peters

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