#This is just Roman's feelings in general also

[masquenoire]

@riddleroyalty​ asked:

if all the rogue gallery villains were in high school right? black mask got a yearbook, who would he cross out? who are favorite & least favorite classmates?? ( im sorry, i re copied this and pasted it without editing it)

I don’t have Photoshop so this wasn’t at all fancy but I tried! Roman is not particularly keen on his fellow rogues and only likes a select few, jackass that he is!

[the-sprog]

I need to make a Sanders Sides as superheroes drawing

But not like... Roman if he were a superhero. I mean which DC/Marvel hero would they be "variants" of.

I need opinions. Send me options. I'll make polls after I get a few.

Expect Remus. He's Deadpool. That one's easy.

[solace-seekers]

in my jason feels again….

[kneworder]

angry at the oscars barbie nominations but in an annoyinger way (i think nominating ryan reynolds makes sense but the best picture and best supporting actress noms are ridiculous)

[a-passing-storm]

I am working on a slideshow for Latin Club for this Friday and I am having SO much fun! Not going to lie, though, I am starting to feel bad for Caesar.

[shortkingromanroy]

man i really struggle to sympathize with non-roy waystar execs.

like yes they’re entertaining, gerri is the ultimate #girlboss and is objectively the most ‘deserving’* of the permanent ceo role in terms of competence, both frank and gerri have the ever-under-appreciated hyper-competent employee thing going on, karl is just unintentionally hilarious..

but unlike the roy siblings who are (consciously or not) doing every horrible act they commit in order to gain their father’s love and respect, the non-roy execs are just there to make money.

and i think in a different show that could actually make them more sympathetic than the roys, but in this show it just kinda makes me contemptuous of them in a way i can’t bring myself to be toward ken shiv and rome. the execs don’t have the whole gilded cage thing keeping them at waystar and under logan’s thumb. they’re just That greedy. and yes the siblings are greedy too but.. idk

*every character on this show ‘deserves’ to never be permitted into a position of power again where they can hurt more people. but u get what i mean

[overbearingstruggles]

I really wanna understand your love for kieran culkin, I loved him in Scott Pilgrim.

Oh my god this is so nice you really don’t have to ask but I love that you did!!!!!!!!

I wish I had a less lizard brain answer to attribute the spark to but sometimes you need someone to do something sexual in order for your brain to unlock that interest in them and the Roman/Gerri phone scene takes the prize. When I rewatched the show I had zero recollection of the emotional scene that happens right after because apparently I blacked out lol. So then I’m watching the rest of the show through new eyes which of course leads to huh, I definitely love this character and am attracted to this being, but do I also love this person? Anon, he’s so lovable! The pro and con of Kieran & Roman is there is A Lot of Kieran in the character. Uh the best parts, we hope. He’s this secure short king with quick wit who talks fast and can require a bit of attention but is humble as heck about how good he is at his job and has this quirky decorated right appendage and isn’t afraid to crack jokes when someone broaches the subject of his irl family or politely shut them down when he thinks they’re off base about something. I love the little bit I know about him and his wife’s relationship and the way they can publicly poke fun at each other. I love that he lived in the same tiny apartment from 19 to 39 until his wife finally said “you’re on a hit TV show.” I love how sweet and diplomatic he is when someone tries to poke him about Jeremy Strong being weird. I swear you can feel interviewers become infatuated with him for being a real and funny, charming person. In conclusion, I think he's neat!

[sallyswife3435]

You know what hurts?

When you were little, your mom used to say really awful things about her body to herself and really degrading things to herself in front of you. This would happen often, and through most of your developing years.

Now that you’re older, and you’ve gone through puberty and are mostly fully developed, you can tell that your genes came from your mom and you have very similar bodies. You’re young and really skinny though, so they don’t look all that similar, except their shape in essence, and such and such. She’s never said a single negative thing about your body; It’s probably what she considers to be the best version of her own body anyway.

And then, one struggling year, you gain a significant amount of weight. And slowly, you start to see more and more resemblances between your body and your mom’s; except that she lost a lot of weight that same year, so now, the resemblances you draw aren’t between your body and the body of what you consider to be your beautiful mother, but between your body and memory of the body that your mother used to insult and degrade, and that she put all her energy and might into running away from.

And deep down (and maybe not even that deep down) you know, even though she’s never mentioned it, you’re not the only person who doesn’t like your body.

[fromevertonow]

Suzanne Collins is one of the few contemporary writers who realizes the importance of names in her stories and the significance they bear. They add so many layers to the story, additional meanings that otherwise would not have existed.

The original trilogy:

Katniss: named after a plant of which you can eat the roots. Her father taught her where to find it and told her that “as long as you can find yourself, you’ll survive” (quote may be a little bit off, but it’s from one of the early chapters in THG). Additionally, the leaves are in the shape of an arrowhead, referencing her skills with the bow which her father also taught her how to use.

Peeta: literally bread lmao. But bread is one of the basic nutritions humans need, a little bit goes a long way to keep you alive. Peeta’s presence in Katniss’s life also kept her alive, literally and figuratively—the burned bread he threw her in the flashback and their complicated relationship.

Primrose: a plant with medicinal purposes, even more significant in light of her work as a medic in Mockingjay.

Gale: literally means “strong wind” and considering that in every encounter with Katniss he’s caused some reaction, he pulls her into directions she maybe initially doesn’t want to go in. Additionally, his name also represents his determination and steadfastness in his beliefs.

TBOSAS

Lucy Gray: named after William Wordsworth’s poem “Lucy Gray” which is about the titular character of the poem who got lost during a blizzard. She literally got lost in snow. Rachel Zegler sang this poem in two parts on the original soundtrack of the movie. When Snow asked who the girl in the song is, Lucy answers that she’s a mystery, just like her.

Snow: aside from the obvious snow references, I think his name is most significant in relation to Lucy and the poem. The only one who knows what caused her disappearance is Snow. He is the reason that Lucy is gone. But her traces in the snow are still visible. He will always remember her because the memory of Lucy has manifested itself in every part of his life.

Coriolanus: named after the Roman general (and also the titular character of Shakespeare’s play), Coriolanus wanted to attack Rome and become its ruler. He was scorned and celebrated by the people, only to be later exiled from the city by them. In TBOSAS, Coriolanus is the star pupil at the Capitol’s academy but sent into exile to the districts after he won the Games with Lucy through cheating.

Volumnia: Coriolanus mother who played a part in his ascent to power. In TBOSAS, she almost serves like a mentor to Coriolanus, teaching him how to think in terms of power.

(Edit) Sejanus: a roman soldier who was betrayed by the roman emperor Tiberius, just like the future president betrayed him.

(Edit) Plinth: got this info from here, but it was too good not to include here. A plinth is a base for a statue or vase to stand on. After Sejanus’s death, all of the Plinth fortune was given to Snow for being such a good to friend him. It was this money that skyrocketed the Snow family from poverty to filthy rich. The Plinth money was the foundation upon which Snow built his power.

There are so many other names that have historical (mostly Roman and Greek) connotations—Plutarch, Seneca, Cinna—but also regular names like Trinket and Beetee bear meanings that represent the character beautifully.

Names are important. For any lover of literature or (aspiring) writers, please look closely at them. They can shape your story into something unique.

Feel free to correct me if I’ve said something wrong. I know there are many names missing, but I can only add so many examples ✊🏻😔

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝙰 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 2.1k | Proof read : NO

Summary : The night before a battle, General Acacius has something to tell the blacksmith's daughter.

Warnings: SMUT, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), masturbation F and M, implied age gap, scars, breeding kink

A/n : I wrote this in like an hour so...enjoy my horny Roman general smut with a touch of lovely dovey bc ovulation, Also I'm very dyslexic lol

The needs of any general are important, and yet your father handles the most critical element of all: crafting the armor and swords meant for battle. Among all your father's customers, General Acacius was your favorite. Alluring and tempting, he was a force of nature, and he knew it. He almost never lost a fight. If your father knew about your infatuation, he might just muster the strength to overpower the general himself.

But that didn't stop the glances. You dreamed and prayed to the goddess Venus that he would take you as his wife or even a whore.

You helped your father polish the swords and armor for the men. This week, another battle of the gladiators loomed on the horizon. It was late, the night sky high above as you rubbed polish along a chest plate. The sound of an approaching horse made you stand tall. It was a single horse, a white steed adorned with armor you knew all too well. It galloped up to where you were, at the part of the blacksmith's forge that was outside. The firelight illuminated his face as he spoke.

"Evening, fair one," General Acacius said, his voice as smooth and commanding as ever. He dismounted, his gaze never leaving you. "Is your father about?"

You shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest. "He has retired for the night, General."

Acacius stepped closer, the flickering flames casting shadows on his chiseled features. "Then it is fortunate that I find you here. I have something important to discuss."

You swallowed hard, the anticipation building within you. "What is it, General?"

He looked down, his expression softening. "Tomorrow, I march into battle. A battle that carries great risk. And I cannot go without first telling you what is in my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat. "General, I—"

He raised a hand, silencing you gently. "No titles now, please. Call me Marcus."

"Marcus," you whispered, the name feeling strange and intimate on your lips.

He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, smell the faint scent of leather and steel. "For too long, I have admired you from afar. Your beauty, your spirit, your kindness. You have captured my heart, and I can no longer keep it hidden."

You felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming emotion flooding through you. "Marcus, I... I never thought..."

"I know," he interrupted softly. "And I do not ask for an answer now. I only ask that you know the truth. Should I fall in battle tomorrow, I want you to know that I love you. With all that I am, I love you."

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to touch his hand. "Marcus, please come back to me."

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "I will fight with all my strength, for you give me reason to survive. But if fate decrees otherwise, remember my words and hold them close."

As he turned to leave, you called out to him, your voice trembling. "Marcus, I love you too."

He paused, looking back at you with a fierce determination in his eyes. "Then I shall return. For nothing, not even the gods themselves, can keep me from you."

Marcus closed the distance between you, his eyes darkening with an intensity that made your heart race. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. His lips were firm and demanding, yet tender as if savoring every moment. You melted into his embrace, the world around you fading into nothingness.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were ablaze with desire. "Come with me," he whispered, his voice husky and commanding. "We do not have much time."

Without waiting for a response, he took your hand and led you away from the forge, his grip strong and unwavering. You followed him through the shadows, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the path ahead. The air was thick with anticipation and the promise of what was to come.

He guided you to the far side of the property, where the cattle were kept. The soft sounds of the animals settling for the night filled the air, creating a backdrop of calm amid the storm of your emotions. Marcus led you into a small, secluded barn, the scent of hay and earth surrounding you.

Inside, the dim light revealed a space both intimate and hidden from prying eyes. Marcus turned to you, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I have waited too long for this moment," he said, his voice low and fervent. "I need you, here and now."

You nodded, your own desire mirroring his. "Then take me, Marcus. I am yours."

He pulled you into a passionate kiss, his lips firm and demanding. His hands slipped under the shoulders of your gown, letting the fabric dip. You gasped, the cool night air grazing your exposed skin. He looked at you intently, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Have you been taken?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"I'm no stranger to my own touch," you admitted, feeling small and vulnerable under his gaze, "but to a man?" You shook your head, your heart pounding.

A flicker of something dark and primal flashed in his eyes. He pulled your dress down the rest of the way, letting it fall into the hay scattered across the barn floor. You instinctively moved to cover yourself, but he was quicker. His hands were on your sides, warm and possessive. He kissed you once more, his hands moving upwards, palming your breasts as he began to kiss your neck. You gasped, planting your hands against his armor.

"Marcus," you breathed.

He stopped kissing you and gently patted your shoulder, a silent command to lie down in the hay. The loud clang of his armor hitting the ground sent a jolt of excitement through you. He stripped off his underclothes, revealing himself to you. Immediately, you jumped to your knees, meeting him on the ground. You looked at his body in shock and awe, the scars scattered across his muscular frame telling stories of battles fought and won.

Worry etched your brow as you reached out to trace the outline of his muscles and scars, getting lost in the feeling of his skin under your fingertips. He lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"They're healed," he murmured, his voice tender. "I feel no pain."

 He caressed your cheek with his thumb before pulling you in for another kiss, cradling your head as he laid you back down. “Touch yourself,” he commanded softly, his eyes dark and hungry.

Your eyes widened at his request, but the slight smile on his lips and the warmth in his eyes gave you the courage to comply. You brought one hand to your clit, using slow circles to work yourself up, while the other hand roamed your body, seeking out the places that felt the best. You closed your eyes, small moans escaping your lips.

You frowned slightly, still concerned, but he caressed your cheek with his thumb before pulling you in for another kiss. He cradled your head as he laid you back down. "Touch yourself," he whispered, his voice a seductive command.

Your eyes widened at the suggestion. "Go on," he almost chuckled at the slight shyness you showed.

With trembling hands, you took one to your clit, using slow circles to work yourself up. Your other hand grasped your breast before roaming your body, seeking out whatever felt good in the moment. You closed your eyes, letting small moans escape your lips. You brought your hand that had been circling your clit to your mouth, opening your eyes to see what Marcus was doing.

He watched you with a hunger that made your pulse quicken. As you started sucking on two of your fingers, he stroked his length at the same speed, thick and overwhelming. Precum lined his cock, glistening in the dim light. You let your fingers out of your mouth with a pop, and he growled a low, primal sound. You spread your legs further, looking him dead in the eyes as you inserted two fingers into your wet cunt, thrusting them slowly while maintaining eye contact. Soft moans spilled from your lips, your back arching.

Marcus cracked, stopping your hand with a firm grip. You whined at the sudden stop of pleasure, but he pulled your hand from your cunt and sucked at the slick-covered fingers, savoring every bit. He released your hand with a pop, then spit into his own before rubbing it onto his cock. He leaned down, kissing your neck to distract you from any discomfort.

He rubbed his dick along your folds before pushing into you slowly. The action made you claw at his back and let out a yelp. You'd managed to put three fingers in your cunt at one point, but nothing compared to the size and mass of Marcus Acacius.

"Shh, shh, the pain will end soon," he whispered, kissing your forehead. He began to thrust into you slowly, being careful not to cause more pain. Eventually, the discomfort faded, replaced by a growing pleasure. You began to moan, and Marcus groaned, planting a hand on your hip while the other wandered up and down your body.

He bit his lip, a bead of sweat forming along his forehead, his curls sticking to his skin. His strokes became more forceful, and you started to moan louder, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

"M-more, General," you gasped for air before continuing, "more."

He growled in response, speeding up. His free hand moved to rub your clit, his thrusts harder and faster. The hay scratched at your skin, but you didn't care. Your hands gripped his forearms as you felt your pussy start to clench down on his cock. Your orgasm crashed over you with a loud moan, and Marcus continued thrusting, fucking you through your climax with sloppy, erratic movements.

With a deep moan, he spilled his hot seed inside you, filling you completely. He kissed you passionately before pulling out and collapsing beside you in the hay. You lay there together, bodies entwined, the afterglow of your shared pleasure enveloping you. The cool night air mixed with the warmth of your bodies, creating a cocoon of intimacy that made the world outside seem distant and unimportant.

Marcus turned to you, his breath still heavy, his eyes softening as they met yours. "I will return," he said, his voice a blend of steel and tenderness. "I will win this battle, and when I do, I will make you my bride."

You felt a surge of emotions, hope, and love intertwining with the remnants of your passion. "Marcus, you must be careful," you whispered, your fingers tracing the lines of his strong jaw. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

He took your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, before bringing it to rest over his heart. "With you in my thoughts, I am invincible," he declared. "Every sword I raise, every enemy I face, it will be for you. The gods themselves could not keep me from your side."

You gazed into his eyes, feeling the weight of his promise settle deep within your soul. "And I will be here, waiting for you," you vowed, your voice trembling with emotion. "My heart, my body, they are yours."

He smiled a rare and beautiful thing that made your heart skip a beat. "Then it is settled," he said, his tone resolute. "I will fight with all my might, knowing that my bride awaits me."

He shifted, rising from the hay with the grace and power of the warrior he was. You watched as he dressed, every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. The sight of his scars, his muscles, the very essence of his strength, only made you more certain of the love you felt for him.

Once fully dressed, he turned back to you, offering a hand to help you rise. You took it, feeling the roughness of his skin, the strength of his grip. He pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both a promise and a farewell.

"I will return to you," he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and reassuring.

"And I will be waiting," you replied, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and certainty.

With one final, lingering kiss, he stepped away, mounting his white steed with the same grace and power that had always captivated you. As he rode off into the night, you watched him go, your heart swelling with pride and love.

The barn seemed empty without him, the silence heavy with the weight of his absence. But as you gathered your gown and dressed, you felt a new sense of purpose. You would prepare for his return, ready to welcome him back as your victor and your husband.

[qsycomplainsalot]

Something very sad and dumb is happening. During the slow collapse of the Roman empire we lost many "luxury" trades and techniques due to them not being sustainable in a post-roman less connected world. People didn't get dumber, and they kept using and inventing new things to improve their quality of life, but, to take an exemple out of many, the recipe of the seawater concrete that was so closely tied to Rome's monumental architectural projects was forgotten for over a thousand years simply because for quite some time there just weren't cities vast enough to attract the kind of patrons to fund them, which stopped the process known as euergetism to take place. Somehow we have been going through the same process again over the past hundred and so years, not because there's no upper class to chase civic recognition by sponsoring the arts, but because the upper class has lost interest in sponsoring the arts at all. It seems like rich people have become more and more into the idea alone of accumulating money, and just can't think of ways to spend it that wouldn't also be thought off by the most basic dudebros around. Not to glorify rich people at any point in time but it used to be that when you had an insane amount of money you'd use it to foster a court of artist, build gigantic public baths or commission a rank in the navy to discover new continents. Nowadays it all goes towards a dick measuring contest of yachts, mansions and what just seems like the least satisfying way one could ever spend their money. This wouldn't be so much of a problem considering the lower class has had more spending money than ever before in history, but aside from that and in lock step with exponential capitalism, rich people seem to take personal exception to the arts existing at all, opting instead to commodify everything, copy it and sell it for cheap. We're staring down the barrel of losing thousands of crafts honed over dozens of generations simply because the mercantile hellscape we live in does not, for whatever reason, value having the best possible teapot ever produced, or the best knife, or the best brush, etc... instead these products are undermined by cheap imitations sponsored by rich assholes wanting the appearance of quality over the real thing for revenues' sake, possibly because the idea that an ultra-skilled artisan class getting paid insane amounts of money completely proportional to their labor feels alien to this bunch of parasites. And I don't think that trickle down economics has ever been a thing, but it sure as hell feels like we went from being the paid monkeys of the elite, to them not being willing to spend the piss it would take to save us from a fire.

[gladiatorcunt]

- # ROMANS 8:7 !!

“because the mind of the flesh is hostile to god: it does not submit to god’s law, nor can it do so.”

cw: implied plus size & southern afab!reader, xmen 1 coded logan but also different, large age gap (reader early 20’s, logan…. not), implied mental health & abandoment issues, drug & alchohol mentions, consensual somno (not discussed but logan’d be down with whatever you wanted), dad/father figure bf behavior and talk (kiddo, controlling your sleep schedule, heavy daddy kink & calling him your old man, calls fucking you “feeding you” etc.), heavy werewolf/animals in general allusions & imagery (?), reader is lowkey unhinged, reader doing some solo a/b/o roleplay lol, kind of self objectification/degradation vibes due to underlying trauma, gentle dead dove like if the dove perched on a bitter old man’s dirt covered shoulder and wouldn’t leave, more of a moment in time

1k event. / please consider commissioning me!

Stubble against your lips is a damn fine way to wake up in the morning, you think with a dazed smile. The scent of the beard shampoo you have Logan use smells better than a whole poppy field ever could. There are lingering traces of cigar smoke hovering over his slightly chapped lips, but not as heavy anymore, he’s trying to quit relying on them so much. A gruff sentiment about wanting to make sure he has a better chance of sticking around to keep an eye on you, or something like that.

You were falling asleep on his sweaty abs when he said it like he was getting his teeth pulled out, but there’s merit in the fact that he could’ve cut himself off. It’s important to him to try to be better at verbalizing the feeling burning in his battered gut like a glass of whiskey on the rocks. You’d take him with open arms and open legs even if he was a worse man than the devil.

You reach down and lift his hefty hands to your still swollen lips and kiss his knuckles like you’re trying to suck his claws out of his skin and into your mouth. A painless operation, you’re used to the feeling of blades against your skin, housing them in your stomach would mean nothing if it meant you could take some of the hurt away from him. It feels like that’s your job sometimes, to jump through as many hoops as possible so that you bear the brunt of the weight Logan’s forced to deal with on a daily basis.

He stops that train of thought in its tracks when you express it, what kind of dad would he be if he let you get even a single scratch? Maybe there’s to be said for a rough and tough kind of guy getting to nurse a kitten back to health, to keep it tucked away in the crook of their muscular arm never to see the light of day without them.

You don’t offer to keep his claws sheathed safely in your pussy either, you’d lick your own blood off the ends when they eventually push through your mouth. A cock sleeve in a different outfit, daddy’s little helper. But then you see the way Logan’s face belies a sense of peace, his forehead wrinkles and the fine lines around his mouth aren’t nearly so pronounced because this is the rare moment in which he finds no reason to scowl. You know you’re worth more than a nyquil infused pussy to him, but this is where you find your use. This is how you feel content, gummy walls suckling on his fat tip because even when you’ve put your old man to bed you can’t get enough.

Logan thinks he’s just so awful, the big bad wolf slobbering on an innocent lamb’s cherry pie-sweet cunt, but you might be worse. You’d your feet and throw a fit if his nose even twitched catching the scent of someone else, you’d do far worse things than what he’s already done to keep this toe curlingly grumpy man snoring a crater into your silk pillows. You feel like a rabid chihuahua nipping at his heels to keep him inside and with you, where it’s warm and wet and there’s no death other than the little ones you experience over and over like a perverted groundhog day. He’s the only one you trust with you doing you prone bone, having faith that he’ll shield you from all the things in the world that aren’t Daddy and the cozy sticky life he provides for you.

Calloused fingers strangling your tits in the morning, your ass bent over his lap in the evening while he sits back in his recliner and soothes the sting. You’d been sick to your stomach before you met him, wandering up and down the road in New York because you insisted you could make this big move and do it all on your own. Then his denim blue pick up rumbled its way down the broken road and you’ve never looked back since.

Your heart was beating faster than a hummingbird when he rolled his eyes and pushed the passenger side door open with one hand, like you were lucky he didn’t drive off and leave you in the dirt. You had the stray thought of offering him a blow job or a tit fuck to make it worth his while, but he was squirming around to tug off his brown leather jacket and toss it at you before you could move a muscle.

Poor little kitty, last one in the box all alone in the cold. Someone wanted you though, and over time your hisses and scratches turned to cat-that-got-the-cream-AND-the-canary wails and voracious frisking.

He ‘tsks’ and bites his cheek on the days where the guilt creeps in, and you know he just can't accept that this is what you want. That you saw his maw open wide and dripping with blood-cum-tissue-bone-spittle and hopped right on the center of his dusty rose pink tongue like a good bunny.

In your daydreams the appendage is so long he can choke you with the tip of it, wrap it around you and get his unique slime and grime absorbed into the hollow of your throat. You wish he had a knot too, so he could plug you up and you’d have no choice but to take it and be so grateful that Daddy thought you were worthy of being bred and speared and kept.

God, you’d never wanted to have somebody’s baby so much. But you’re selfish too, so you don’t mind this time spent together, just the two of you. That’s a blessing in and of itself and you’ve learned not to question the rare good things in life that you’re allowed to have. The powers that be decided he’s yours and you’re his and you’ll tie your leash to his hand if that ensures he can never change his mind about taking a chance on you. If he can’t run like you tried to do when you realized he might actually love you back, that he wasn’t content to just be a dirty fantasy you had when you were alone on your trailer bed. That for the first time in your life, what you need needs you too, or wants to entertain you at the very least.

You don’t want to run anymore, and all of the credit goes to Logan recognizing that you were just a stray cat who needed someone that wouldn’t let them dart out the door at the first sign of discomfort. He forced you to be known so you could be loved and there’s no going back to a life without that, not for you. Not without being to hold Daddy’s hand when that same feeling of flight or flight knocks on your skull. Maybe you’re spiraling again because you feel empty, you said no to cockwarming the previous night because you didn’t want to be too needy. You think your pussy might’ve bitten his dick off to keep inside of it like a trophy if you followed your usual routine.

Now you’re realizing why you hardly ever say no to giving your pussy time to breathe. How can you feel whole if Daddy’s not sighing in relief when he slides home for the first time again? You remember that you're your own person like this and you hate it, you don’t belong to you, you belong to him.

So you bite your lip and slowly bring yourself up to straddle his torso, humping his abs for a second before reaching behind you and lining up your aching cunt with his already half hard prick. You get overwhelmed already, so excited and antsy and ready to greet Daddy at the door that you bounce without actually bringing your plush hips all the way down.

‘Want that knot, want it want it want it want it, fuck fuck FUCK!’

You cry when the bulbous and thick fucking tip eases into you followed by the rest of him, you can’t help it. You missed him so much, and you’re not only thinking about Logan when you say that. Trust Daddy to actually have a horse’s cock most men overcompensate for not having, long and girthy and an angry purplish-red and surrounded by a black bush and more than deserving of never being left alone for a single second.

He woke up as soon as you started grinding against him in your sleep, but he knows you’d get embarrassed if he let it slip now. Logan could open his brown eyes and say ‘I told you so, kiddo’ but he can do that after his hardening cock pushes into your cervix. A welcome home kiss for his fussy little thing, he doesn’t feel right until he cracks his eyelids halfway and peeks through to see your own roll back in otherworldly rapture.

“That’s it, right where it belongs, ain’t it doll?”

Yes, yes it is.

“Fuckin’ cum on it and then get y’r ass back to bed, y’r gonna get cranky if you stay up any later. Gotta keep you fed, get some cock in that belly, keep you fat.”

- 2024, do not copy/translate/train ai with my work

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.

Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.

A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).

anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.

[geralt-of-baevia]

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."

[absurdthirst]

A Roman Romp {Deiter Bravo *AS* Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Drug mentions, power imbalance, fucking the boss, clitoral play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), derogatory names, role play, rough sex, Dieter being unbelievably bad with emotions, costume play.

Comments: You've found a niche as Dieter Bravo's assistant. Taking care of him and sleeping with him work surprisingly easy until his new role as a Roman general makes you completely feral for him.

A/N: Completely inspired by the sexy, bloody gifs.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Deeper. Raspier.” You decide, ignoring the frown of the man in front of you as you contemplate the voice pitch he has changed into. Dieter Bravo loves to experiment with his voice and facial expressions, but being the consummate narcissist that he is, he doesn’t like it when it’s not immediately loved by all. You don’t work that way and he knows it. It’s why you are permitted to run through the dialogue with him and read the scripts when most assistants just scheduled appointments and bring the actors they work for the page changes. “This is a man who has screamed throughout the bloodiest battles, who has inhaled the smoke from a hundred thousand fires. He’s hardened by battle, by death, and he shows it.” You explain, painting a picture for him to visualize from the comfort of his plush designer sofa in his Sherman Oaks mansion.

Dieter nods, shifting to sit up and he clears his throat. “You’re right. He’s seen shit we could never imagine. He needs to be tortured but capable.” Dieter decides and rolls his shoulders. His eyes focus on the script and he says “I declare for Rome. For her Emperor. For her people.” He deepens his voice, letting it catch to be raspier than before. “How was that?” He asks, face softening as he expectedly looks at you.

Despite the massive ego, the demands, and his ability to act like a twelve year old boy at times, Dieter is surprisingly needy. He craves acceptance, like a feral cat who spits and hisses when you get too close, but is desperate to be loved on their own terms. You deal with him delicately at times, more harshly at others, all while understanding that neediness. It’s what made you work well for him. “That was good.” You nod in approval.

He thanks you with a slightly dazed, soppy smile, like he's grateful for the approval. Like it means the most coming from you. "Yeah?" He asks, hungry for more praise and you nod. He stares at you for a second before he looks back at the script, continuing with the new voice he's found for the character and he continues practicing his lines, his eyes drifting over to you every now and then as he seeks approval.

This time he runs through the lines without you reading the other parts, but sometimes he wants you to voice the other characters, to give him a tone to feed off of. Since the Cliff Beasts debacle and you coming to work for him, Dieter has been determined to win another Oscar and you think this might be the role to do that.

“I’m trying on the costumes this afternoon.” Dieter tells you like you didn’t already know that. You know every detail of his schedule. “I know.” You chuckle softly and he flushes slightly, “yeah. I am hoping it’s going to help me find the character posture.” He confesses, “and I get to check out my trailer before filming begins in a couple days.”

That’s code for he wants the trailer to feel like his own personal retreat so you need to pack up all of his favorite things. Like you hadn’t already planned that. “I will make sure that you can relax.” You promise, shooting him a soft smile. “Your favorite incense and candles, that serenity stone and I’ll pack up your favorite sheets to bring with us today.”

“You’re the best.” Dieter compliments you and it’s a rare occasion but he’s sincere as he offers you a soft smile. “I’m gonna go smoke a little before we go to the studio. Can you go get some tacos for me?” He asks, “carnitas.” He decides with a nod as he relaxes against the sofa.

“Sure thing, boss.” You wink at him and put a little away in your walk as you leave the room, knowing his eyes are on your ass. This thing you have with Dieter is incredibly easy and complicated at the same time. You sleep together, pretty damn often, but you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s sworn off relationships since Kate and Anika, but it’s not like you can blame him. You get sex and as a bonus, it puts your boss into a better mood for you to deal with him professionally. It doesn’t hurt that you care about him a lot, love him really, but that’s something you would never admit to him. You know that you just fill a void in his life.

Dieter watches until you disappear and he sets his script down, rubbing his scruffy cheek. Fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Too good for him to touch you honestly and he knows he’s putting everything on the line. Losing you would mean losing his assistant but also his best friend and some of the best fucking sex he’s ever had. He can’t tell you anything about how he feels in case you’re scared off and he loses it all. With a sigh, he looks back at his script and waits for you to return like the lovesick fool he is.

It doesn’t take you long, the place where you go makes the best fucking tacos and they know how Dieter likes them. He’s ordered from there often enough while he’s high. You get some extras because he said he wanted to smoke some weed when he gets back from having his costume fitted and you know he will have the munchies. Picking up some salad because you know he won’t eat greens unless you get them. “I’m back.” You sail through the door with the paper bag and grin. “You eat and I’ll get the bag together for your trailer.”

Dieter groans at the smell of the tacos and he pats the space next to him. “Come and sit down with me, babe.” He orders, wanting you to eat as well. You run around after him all the time and he knows you don’t always remember to eat.

“Okay.” You don’t argue, just plopping down beside him and handing him the agua fresca you had ordered for him from the drink carrier. “I can eat and then I’ll make sure we get you settled into your trailer.”

Dieter reaches out to squeeze your leg. He’s always been a touchy feely kind of man, needing that physical connection. That’s why he wants sex so much. He loves to feel wanted and to be touched. “You’re the best.” He says around a mouth full of tacos.

“You might not think so when you see this.” You tease, pulling out the salad to set in front of him. He doesn’t argue but he does pout, swallowing the mouth of tacos and sighs. “Did you get that adobo dressing?” He asks hopefully, knowing he would eat anything as long as that stuff is on it. “Two of them.” You promise. “So you can have one for a salad on set.”

“Fuck yes. You’re - you’re the fucking best. No one comes close to you. Literally no other assistant is like you, babe.” Dieter praises with a mouth full of tacos. His last assistant couldn’t make him hard and he certainly couldn’t make him eat salad. He was authoritative and while Dieter likes to be submissive, when it comes to his work, he is the one in control.

You shouldn’t let the praise get to you, knowing that Dieter is always expressive when he’s happy and then can throw full tantrums when he’s not. Still, you smirk and lean forward to grab a taco for yourself after putting a straw in your own drink. “That’s why you pay me so well.” You remind him. “Don’t forget you still have to make that happy birthday video to send to your niece.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’ve already sent the gift from you. It’s a battery operated kiddie jeep. She will love it.”

Dieter nods, knowing he would have completely forgotten about her birthday. He loves his niece but his brother is a stiff prick. Always the golden child. Better at everything including being monogamous and heterosexual. He went to college, got his finance degree. Has the wife and 2.5 kids in Dallas and Dieter is…never good enough. Even when he’s won a fucking Oscar. “I gotta go see that kid soon. Make sure she’s not fucking boring like her dad.” He snorts as he wipes his mouth.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll work it into your schedule.” You promise, reminding yourself to remind him of it when filming ends for this movie. He always wants to go somewhere after he’s wrapped a movie. “Just let me know and I’ll take care of everything.” From his flight to the drugs, you will make sure he has everything he needs.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, unsure if he wants to deal with his family. Especially his parents. He left Texas to come to L.A when he was eighteen and he struggled until he got spotted while he was failing at being a waiter. “You need a break too. At some point.” He announces as he reluctantly digs into his salad even with the adobo smothering it.

“I get breaks.” You remind him. But it’s true you don’t get them often. Even when Dieter travels, he brings you with him. He likes having you close and it’s not something you are completely opposed to. Spending months in Croatia or China is amazing. You reach over and brush his hair back and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for eating your salad.”

He loves the praise and hates that he loves it. His life is messy and the last thing he wants to do is lose you because he ruins it with his personality. At least like this you’re at a distance. “Fucking lettuce.” He grumbles and takes another bite, tilting his cheek out so he can get another kiss.

You grin against his skin as you pepper his cheek with little kisses. You don’t mind when he’s like this. It’s sweet, even if it’s needy. Dieter so desperately wants love and for someone to adore him. He just manages to ruin every relationship he gets in when someone new shows up and showers him with attention. You know that it’s possible with your situation. You just have to deal with it.

Dieter loves the way you give him affection and he chews his salad after you pull away, he looks down at the salad, setting it down after a moment to dig into another taco. “Tacos are better.” He decides and watches as you dig into your own food.

“I know they are, baby.” He hates eating salads and you try to make it fun most of the time, but there’s no chance against tacos. “But this counterbalances the tacos. You’ve been doing so good at the gym. That sexy body needs the good stuff for all those fight scenes.”

Dieter has definitely had to put in time at the gym to make sure he’s getting in shape for this role. He had a nutritionist and personal chef come in for the past few months and he’s done pretty good building up his arms. “Yeah? You think I’ll look convincing?” He asks, eager for your approval of the body he’s been working out for.

“You’ll be amazing.” You promise him. “You already have a look that can be so authoritative, but put you in Roman armor?” You groan quietly and shake your head. “I thought Maximus was sexy, but your Marcus Acacius will blow him out of the water.”

Dieter flushes slightly, ducking his head at your praise, and he loves how you compliment him. “Yeah? You think I’ll be sexy in the costume?” He smirks, “and the sex scene.” He adds, “gonna watch me on the closed set?”

You knew there was a sex scene, but you didn’t think Dieter would want you there. “If you want me to.” You tell him. “I know that day will be a long one for you.”

Dieter nods, reaching for your hand after he wipes his clean. “I want you there. I always want you there.” He admits, “I just - you know me best in that department and I want to make sure it looks real, natural.”

You could point out that Dieter has had so many more lovers than you have, but you don’t. “You’re going to look even sexier then.” You promise. “They are going to create a new Oscar category just for you. Best Sex Scene.”

Dieter chuckles, “I fucking wish. I could win that every damn year.” He says with conviction, “especially if I was filmed with you.” He says and winks, picking up the salad to reluctantly finish it even with the dressing.

You hum in approval and quickly finish your own taco before you pat his leg gently. “Let me go get you packed up so we can leave, baby.” You murmur. “You don’t want to be late with Wardrobe.”

Dieter nods, watching you get up and his eyes drop down to your ass again as you make your way into his room to get what he needs. You do everything for him and he can’t ever pay you enough for putting up with his shit.

Less than an hour later, you have Dieter loaded up in the car and you are headed to the studio where you will be filming the fight scenes. Some of the location work will be later but they want to get the fights filmed first to give them plenty of time to work on the CGI. Dieter decided to let you drive so he could read over the script again. “Don’t worry. While you are with wardrobe, I’ll get the key to your trailer. We can take a picture outside with your name on it for you IG.”

Dieter sighs, he hates social media but he knows it’s needed for him to keep himself relevant when his industry is suddenly flooded with fucking Tik Tok stars and IG models. “Sure.” He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose as he reads over the script, “you really think the voice is right?”

“That voice went straight to my pussy.” You admit, knowing that confession will give him a smug grin. He likes knowing when something turns you on. “Yeah?” His normal voice instantly changes to the once he had practiced for Marcus and you make sure to squirm in the driver’s seat a little. “Yeah, it’s good. Panties around the world will explode.”

Dieter smirks, imagining the reaction with his fans but he doesn’t care about their panties exploding when he only wants yours to explode. Sure, it helps his career to still be considered a sex symbol but he wants you to want him more than any woman thirsting on Twitter.

You giggle quietly to yourself, guiding the car to the studio and you get parked. “Okay. Do you want to see the trailer first and figure out where it is? I can get it set up while you are in wardrobe?”

“Yeah. I wanna see if they gave me a good one or if they put me in the fucking back again.” He had a meltdown when his trailer was at the very end of the lot on his last project. He’s a fucking Oscar winner not someone doing their first fucking movie. You nod and he gets out while you gather the bags with his things. He doesn’t ask if you need help. That’s never really been his nature so you carry the bags to the trailer that’s been assigned as his. “First row. Now that’s more fucking like it.” He declares as he claps his hands.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and follow him into the trailer. It’s perfectly clean and sterile in that brand new kind of way and it will bother Dieter if it stays that way for too long. “I’ll get all this set up to your liking.” You promise.

Dieter looks around before his eyes find yours again, "that would be awesome." He declares, "oh and get me some Kit Kats. You know I love snacking on those ever since Cliff Beasts." He shivers slightly at that movie. Something he took in the desperation of the pandemic when he was stuck at home alone and was losing his mind.

“Kit Kats.” You nod and walk up to him, sensing that he needs a little affection. You caress his cheek and press your lips to his. “You are going to be amazing.” You promise him. “We will make sure this is the best film shoot you’ve ever had.”

Dieter appreciates you and he sighs, “I better get to costume to try everyone on.” He hates costume design but he needs to get there since it’s his time and they will need to do adjustments. “I better go, babe.” He kisses your cheek and exits the trailer, disappearing while you sort out his trailer.

You run and get the KitKats and make four more trips from the car for the bags of stuff for Dieter’s trailer. Stripping the basic sheets off the bed, you replace them with the Egyptian cotton ones that are 2500 thread count, which he loves. Shoving the pillows that were on the bed into a small compartment because he prefers down alternative pillows and putting the soothing weighted blanket over it all. The candle and incense is already burning and there’s a whiff of sage still, letting Dieter know that you’ve done all the things he claims helps clear his mind and calm him down. The basket full of KitKats next to the room temperature San Pellegrino bottles that he prefers when his throat hurts. The small refrigerator is stocked with other drinks and you look around satisfied that he will be comfortable.

Dieter stares at himself in the mirror in his costume and he smirks, knowing you’re going to lose your mind when you see the armor on his body. It’s surprisingly heavy and he didn’t think they’d use metal but they have. He likes the weight of it, it helps him get into character a bit more. The costume designers take notes on adjustments and he changes back, making his way to his trailer. “Fuck. You are amazing.” He compliments as you fluff the pillows you brought from his home.

You hum in delight and turn back to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for.” You motion to the trailer. “Think you can decompress here?”

He nods, groaning as he lays down on the bed. “Come here.” He opens his arm to invite you to lay with him and you follow his order, making him sigh and he shifts to curl around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses, burying his face in your neck.

“Be late.” You tease, stroking his side and chest and you let him hold you. “Wear the same thing for a week and eat nothing but tacos.” You enjoy taking care of Dieter and for all his selfishness, you appreciate the moments like this where he acknowledges everything you do for him. “How did costume fitting go?” You ask, sensing that he’s in a pretty mellow mood so it must have been good.

Dieter loves how you touch him and he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “It went well. They just have to do some minor adjustments. I- I am worried that I look - that I’m too old to do this part. The fighting. Will I look believable?” He asks, a frown on his face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Completely believable.” You promise, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer curls that he’s grown out for this role. “You will look like the war-hardened general. Experienced and trained by years of fighting.” You remind him. “Generals have wisdom. They’ve experienced heartache and lost men. They are supposed to have some gray in their hair and beards.” You bring your fingers down to scratch through his facial hair, knowing how much he likes that. “They might have to add some more. You don’t have quite enough to be that salt and pepper look, if that’s what they want. You’re gonna win another Oscar. I just know it.”

Dieter loves how confident you are in his abilities and that makes him feel more secure, makes him a better actor. “Thank you.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “You - I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes. You hum, continuing to stroke his hair until he blurts out, “I want Chinese for dinner.”

You are so used to the way that Dieter suddenly shifts gears that it’s nearly automatic. “The fancy or the nasty?” You ask, wondering if he’s wanting the upscale Chinese fusion place or the tiny little hole in the wall that makes the best egg rolls you’ve ever eaten in your life.

He ponders it for a second, “the nasty.” He offers you a smirk. “The greasy egg rolls. The fried rice.” He groans at the thought, “then tomorrow I’ll be good. I’m training tomorrow.” He tells you like you don’t know his schedule off by heart.

“Sword training.” You agree. “Bright and early at seven.” He groans pitifully and pouts at the early morning call. “I’ll make sure that you have a powerful protein smoothie first thing.”

Dieter groans, “smoothies and sword training. Seven? Fuckkkkk.” He moans and curls around you again. “Baby baby baby. Let’s go back to mine and then we can get dirty Chinese food and then I can eat my dessert.” He smirks, sliding his down between your legs to cup your cunt through your leggings.

“Yeah?” You moan quietly, always loving how his large hands feel on your body. “We can call and pick it up on the way.” You don’t call it home, because technically you don’t live with him although you spend most nights at his house. “Maybe a bath after and I can rub your back before you fall asleep.”

“Fuck you spoil me. I gotta call Sally and tell her to give you a damn raise.” He groans, telling you he wants his manager to make sure you’re looked after. He presses his fingers against your clit through your leggings, wanting to hear you moan again.

You don’t bite your lip, knowing that Dieter doesn’t want you to suppress your sounds. He’s always greedy for the sounds you make, greedy for the approval. His fingers press insistently against your bundle of nerves expertly. “Dee, baby, that feels so good.” You praise breathlessly.

He loves hearing your praise. He’s greedy for it and he hisses when you lean in to kiss his jaw. His fingers continue to press against your bundle of nerves, pressing and rubbing, wanting you to fall apart for him.

“Dee, baby.” You arch your hips up under his hand, grinding your clit down against his fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m going to ruin these panties.”

He wants to hear your sweet cry. He groans, hardening in his pants, “I’ll buy you more.” He promises, continuing to rub you through the material. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to hear those sweet fucking moans.” He urges you on.

It doesn’t take long when Dieter wants to make you cum. He’s a skilled enough lover to have learned you, since you’ve slept with him so much. You hold onto his arm, gasping in pleasure until your toes curl. “Deeeeee!” You cry out, closing your eyes when the wave of pleasure washes over you and heat fires through your core.

He hisses when your thighs squeeze his hand, keeping him trapped there while you squirm through your orgasm. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He coos, watching you with fascination.

You doubt that. Sometimes you are a little disbelieving that he finds you sexy, but you understand that he might want you to think that so you continue to sleep with him. Whining drowsily, you pull him close and press your lips to his. “Do you want to break in this bed now or go home?”

Dieter smirks against your lips, "come on baby. Let's do it. Break in the bed then we will get Chinese food." It sounds like a fantasy he's jerked off to thinking about you. He is already hardening in his pants and he groans when you reach down to squeeze his bulge. "How do you want me?" He asks, "cowboy? doggy? waterfall? little dipper? the socket?" He lists off positions with raised eyebrows.

You squeeze his cock again and then slide your hand under the waist band to wrap around his shaft. Dieter moans and he twitches in your hand. “How do you want me?” You ask. “You know it’s the Big Dipper with this cock.” You tease, knowing how much he loves being praised for how big he feels inside you. “Do you want to fuck me? Or have me do the work?”

Dieter loves to be a pillow prince but right now, he wants to fuck you. "Strip off and lay on your side." He demands, his voice lowering as his cock twitches at the thought of sliding inside of you. You're so hot and wet, like fucking velvet, and you make his toes curl.

You have no problem stripping for him, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count. Pulling your bra down your arms, you toss it to the floor after pulling your shirt off and quickly strip down the leggings and ruined panties. “Are you going to fuck me wearing clothes or are you stripping too?”

Dieter wants to be naked too. He loves being naked. He would spend all weekend naked if he could. He shuffles off the bed and scrambles to pull his shirt over his head, shoving his sweats down to expose his hard cock. You lay down and he shifts to lay behind you, reaching down to grip his cock. He pumps himself a few times, "lift your leg, baby. I want to slide inside that wet pussy."

Lifting your leg gives him the access he wants and you reach back for his hip. Wanting to touch him as he rocks his hips forward. “It’s so wet.” You promise. “I need you inside me, Dieter.”

He shuffles closer, notching himself at your entrance as he pushes into you. "Fuckkk." He groans as your walls envelop him and he pushes deeper until he's nudging your cervix. "Fuck. So fucking wet." He lets go of his cock and grabs your leg, gripping it to keep it elevated.

“Shit.” Your body lights up when he pushes inside you. Taking him up on his offer of sex about four months after you started working for him had been the best decision you ever made. You squeeze your tits and moan, clenching down around him. “Feels so fucking big, baby. You fill me up perfectly.”

Your praise makes him twitch inside you. He loves it when you praise him, it makes his heart flutter and his stomach clench. "Fuck, you're so tight. Tightest little pussy I've ever fucked." He confesses and he has lost count of how many sexual partners he has had. He hadn't ventured out of your bedroom since a few weeks after you started sleeping together. He has become addicted to your body and he can't keep away from your bed. His fingers squeeze your flesh as he starts to rock into you.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and moan. “Easy to say when-“ you gasp when he pushes deep. “Your fat cock makes anything tight.” Your hand reaches back to caress his face, knowing how much Dieter loves to be stroked and caressed while fucking. “God baby, you just ruin me.” You honestly don’t know how you will get over losing the sexual part of your relationship when Dieter gets bored, but you know it will come eventually. Hell, you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened if you’re honest with yourself. But regular sex is something Dieter craves and you have never turned him down, your own sex drive is pretty high.

Dieter loves the praise, fuck, he loves hearing the way he makes you feel spill from your lips. His thrusts become harder and he hisses when you clench around him. “Fuck.” He groans and turns his head to kiss your palm, his other arm is trapped beneath you but he doesn’t care.

You feel that need in the frantic push of his hips. He’s craving the closeness he feels from sex and you push your ass back, encouraging him. “Yes baby, need this. Needed you to fuck me.” You pant. “Always need it.”

He grips your leg, shifting it more towards your stomach and he groans at the new angle. You’re so much tighter like this. “Fuck baby. You - you’re the best. The fucking best.” He murmurs, kissing along your shoulder.

The weight of him on top of you presses you into the bed, making it harder to push back against him, but you just squeeze him tight every time he thrusts back into you. “Deeeee.” You whine, loving the angle of his cock battering against your cervix. He feels like he’s in your guts when he pushes his hope forward. “Fuck baby, that cock is soooooo good.”

Dieter shifts his hips again, trying to find that spot inside you that makes you scream his name. He wants the entire fucking studio to know who is fucking you like this. He groans when you squeal on his best thrust and he focuses on that spot, wanting you to cum for him.

He’s demanding today. Your moans and squeals come easily, fingers gripping the covering on the bed. You’ll have to make it again later, but you don’t care. He feels amazing pounding into you against that spot. “Dee- Dieter- I’m- I’m gonna-“ you pant, trying to talk while he’s fucking you but it’s nearly impossible. “Oh shit!” You scream, clamping down around his cock when you feel the pressure suddenly reach its peak.

The way you gush around him has him panting as he tries to work himself into your cunt as you grip him like a vice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep. He’s never been great at stamina without drugs so sober, he’s thrusting into you a half dozen more times until he’s painting your walls with his cum.

You groan softly, feeling the hot pulse of his cum filling you. You have an IUD, and Dieter has regular STI testing for insurance reasons and you love that he feels comfortable enough to not use protection with you. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” You reach back and hold his head, wanting to touch him as he rides out his orgasm and collapses on top of you with a breathless huff.

“Fuck. I really don’t pay you enough.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best fucking pussy in L.A.” He compliments while he’s drunk on his orgasm and he kisses your shoulder, enjoying the feel of your hot cunt wrapped around his softening cock.

You snort at his comment and relax against the pillow. It could be ten minutes or an hour before Dieter moves but you always love the way he collapses into you bonelessly. “If I charged you for my pussy, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Dieter snorts, “probably not.” He doesn’t deny that. Sure, he’s had sex workers in his bed before but you are his assistant and there’s an emotional connection he hasn’t found before. He’s addicted to it and he can’t let you go. He is excited to start this new project with you by his side.

****

“Dieter has an interview at twelve that day, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” You tap a pencil against your notepad as you pour over his schedule. “As long as he doesn’t go over we can make it to the studio by four and then have him ready.” His manager is on the other side of the zoom call, video feed in the corner of your computer, wanting to squeeze in a late night talk show to talk about the movie being released next month, while also teasing about this movie. “Will that work for them?”

“Yeah. We can make that work.” His manager and his PR team agree and you add it to his schedule. “We can also get him on that podcast in the next week, if he has a gap. It’s about sexual exploration and of course people know he is quite active. I think it will develop some big hit content. As long as he doesn’t talk about drugs.” His manager sighs.

“He’s been doing a lot better.” You remind them. “Working out for this film is doing wonders for him, even if he complains. He’s just smoking a little weed on the off days.” You look over his schedule again. “On Thursday he is supposed to have a half day of shooting, if we can reschedule his meeting with the accountant, he could do the podcast then?”

His manager hums and looks over the PR team who nods, confirming it with the podcast booker. “That will work. So that’s his schedule for the next month. Thanks for all your hard work. I know he’s not the easiest to handle.” His manager snorts just as Dieter opens the door to his trailer. He’s still in costume, covered in fake blood and dirt and he’s exhausted. He slumps onto the sofa with a groan.

“Okay, I’ll get back with you all later.” You promise, closing out the Zoom call and turning to look over at Dieter. It’s the first time you’ve properly seen him in costume and your mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as you take in the raw, rough and frankly sexy view of Dieter as a Roman general.

Dieter doesn’t notice your interest in his costume, rubbing his forehead as he is hot from the fighting. He’s exhausted. It’s been days of trying to get the scene just right. Including more takes than he’s ever known to cover the reaction of the crowd, of the emperor, of his lover in the stands. “It’s been a long fucking day.” He whines, opening one eye to look at you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is a little raspy, making you clear your throat as you sit up straighter and bite your lip. “It’s been a long day, baby?” You ask, wishing for a moment that Dieter was a method actor that stayed in character. Wanting to hear that voice he had developed for Marcus Acacius while he’s wearing that costume. “You need me to take care of you?”

He opens both eyes and smirks, seeing the way your eyes drop down to his costume. “Does this do it for you?” He asks slyly, standing up from the sofa and he brushes his costume down. His voice deepens as he asks you, “you want me to fuck you wearing this?” Instantly interested in this visceral reaction from you. 

You shiver slightly, his voice changing to the authoritative tone he had practiced with you. His eyes are hardening as he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit immediately. “We can- I can ride you.” You offer, cunt dripping at the thought.

His cock hardens in his briefs under the tunic and he stiffens his spine, wanting to enjoy this role play with you. “Stand up and strip. I want to see you.” He demands, “I want to see what the emperor has gifted me for winning my battle.”

Shit. A whimper escapes you, biting your lip even harder when he slips into role play as he watches you expectantly. You reach for your shirt and drag it over your head to drop to the floor. Wishing you had worn a dress today. “Too bad they aren’t using me as an extra.” You moan. “Pulling off a Roman dress would be sexy.”

“Fuck. I could ask wardrobe for an extra.” He says as his eyes take in your tits and he breaks character for a moment. When you’re naked in front of him, he straightens his back again. “Kneel before your general and tell him your sins.” He demands, “tell him what your weeping pussy yearns for that angers the gods.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

You have no idea if that is anything remotely like a Roman general would say, but you are quick to drop down to your knees in front of him. You bow your head, feigning embarrassment, and there might be a little of the genuine emotion mixed in. Your reaction to his costume is so physical. “You, general.” You moan quietly. “I wish for the general to take his frustrations out on my body. To use my cunt.”

Dieter knows he should be more like a general but he wants to tease you since you’re turned on by this display. By his character. “You’re nothing but a servant. You are nothing to men like me. Someone to fetch my wine and let me fuck your cunt. You want to please your general?” He asks as he reaches down to pull his hard cock from his briefs. He pumps himself and shifts closer to you, “you’re going to suck my cock.” He demands, “and pray the gods forgive you for your lust.”

It’s demeaning and sexy because most of the time Dieter is a whiny, submissive mess who does what you say, but right now he’s in charge. Except he’s not Dieter Bravo, not completely. He’s his character, Marcus Acacius. You open your mouth immediately, your cunt clenching when he pushes the head of his cock onto your tongue and past your lips. Making you moan as you close your eyes. He’s a little salty from sweat but that only adds to the little scene he’s acting out.

He groans as you take him into your mouth but it’s not enough. He reaches down to grab the back of your neck. “You’re not taking my cock like a hungry, needy, little whore. Show me how much you fucking want it.” He demands, rocking his hips to push deeper into your mouth.

You gasp and sputter around his cock, loving the almost ruthless way he is pushed down your throat. You swallow around him, making him groan and you feel your pussy start to drip onto the floor of the trailer. The scene is obscene and you love it, eyes watering as you look up at his ‘dirty and bloody’ face.

His brow is furrowed as he watches you, makeup on his face making him look fierce and he hisses when you swallow around him. “Fuck. Look at you. I bet your cunt is dripping onto the floor, isn’t it? Knowing you are sucking the cock of a general. Someone you’d never be able to be near unless you’re pouring my wine or taking my cock.” He chuckles breathlessly, slapping your cheek.

Your body shivers in goosebumps and you whimper around him. Your nipples are hard and aching and you want to reach between your thighs to rub your clit, but you want to prolong the pleasure. Saliva is dripping down your chin and you bob your head eagerly as you moan around him again. So turned on that you feel like you might cum right now.

Dieter twitches in your mouth, loving the roleplay. It's not really been something that he has explored due to his occupation. "Fuck. Your mouth is the Elysian Fields. Shit. Taking it so well." He compliments you, bending over you to squeeze your breast.

You hollow your cheeks, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Moaning around his length again as your saliva slick jaw works to take him deeper. Wanting to see how long he can last in your mouth before he is pulling out to fuck you.

"Fuck. I - I don't want to-" He loses his character for a moment as he pulls out of your mouth, "I want to fuck you. Get on the bed and show me how much this little slut wants a general to fuck her." He demands, his cock slick with saliva and he wants to cum inside you.

You love the tone and honestly, it’s a little bit of a turn on to hear him call you a slut like that. Dieter doesn’t usually ever use derogatory names unless he’s talking about himself, but this is sexy. You want him to fuck you from behind, but you want to see the costume. Climbing on the bed and spreading your legs wide while you are on your back, you wait for him to react.

Dieter bites his lip, watching your chest heave and he chuckles at how eager you are for him to fuck you like this. “Look at you. Fucking dripping onto the sheets. Hungry for this General’s cock.” He mocks you as he stands at the end of the bed. He grabs your thighs, dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He orders and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance before he pushes inside you in one thrust.

Your cry is loud and you don’t care who hears you. It’s not unusual for cast and crew to hear the sounds of sex coming from Dieter’s hotel room or trailer so no one ever expects any less from him. The snap of his hips is more aggressive and your cunt clenches down around him in pleasure as your fingers twist in the sheets. “Fuck- fuck yes!”

He can see how desperate you are for him to fuck you and he loves it. He focuses on being his character, imagining how roughly he’d fuck someone with adrenaline from the battle racing through him. “Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore for me.” He praises as he grabs your legs and straightens them against his body so he can feel even bigger inside you.

Your eyes roll back because of the angle. His cock pushing deeper and kissing your womb. It pinches slightly but the pleasure overwhelms any pain. “G-gods!” You manage, finding it hard to think about anything but how fucking fierce he looks over you. His brows are pinched together and it makes him look furious, adding to the effect of the costume.

His body is still covered in fake dirt and blood, sweat beading on his forehead, and he looks down as your tits jiggle with each move and your mouth is open in pleasure. If you were a Roman god, you’d be Venus. “Taking my cock. Taking your general’s cock like a good slut. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? Bet you sat there wet and waiting for me to come back from battle. Fuck you hard and make you cum after my frustration in battle.” He grunts, squeezing your legs as he rocks impossibly harder.

You moan and nod. “Yes, General.” You pant out, reaching up and squeezing your left tit as he fucks you. “Waiting for you to come back. Thinking of you.” Your pussy is gushing and Dieter is playing up the part beautifully. You had never thought of role play with him before but it’s perfect.

Your gushing cunt has his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and his skin slaps against your thighs. “Fuck. So good. Feel so fucking good.” He groans and squeezes your calves. He hisses and slaps your flesh, “you gonna be a good girl for your general? You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You gasp out, knowing that will be easy to do. “Dee- general.” You moan, correcting yourself when he squeezes your thigh and grunts in disapproval when you almost say his name. He obviously likes playing the general right now and you will oblige him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He wants to see it, hear it, feel it. He groans your name and slaps your thigh, wanting you to fall apart around him. You pant, getting closer and your walls flutter around his cock. “That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, sliding his hand lower to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He demands, wanting to hear it, “cum for your general.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. It's so goddamn sexy and powerful that the sight of it makes you cum. Your cry is strangled, caught in your throat while your body bucks and heaves under him. Soaking his cock and you vaguely hope you don't ruin his costume as you fall apart.

You clamp down on his cock and your cry has to be heard on the entire lot as you soak his cock. "Fuck, you are - shit. Good girl. Such a good little whore for me. Gonna fill you up now. Don't care if you get knocked up. Will make sure you are looked after by the Emperor." He promises, still in character. "Fuck, I'm gonna - gonna cum." He pants, clenching his eyes as he pushes into you, thrusting a half dozen more times before he can't hold off. He pushes deep as he starts to cum, a whine escaping his lips as he breaks character.

You moan softly, watching his face relax and he literally changes from the character he was portraying to the actor that you work for and sleep with. His shoulder slump and his eyes shift back to a more soulful gaze, glazed over with pleasure as he rocks his hips forward to push every drop of cum into your pulsing walls. “Fuck, Dee.” You can’t help but giggle, your entire body tingling from the pure adrenaline of your orgasm. “That was- is your sex scene going to be like that?”

Dieter inhales deeply, his spine tingling from the orgasm, and he snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at you. "No. No. Fuck." He shakes his head, trying to get control of himself after some great fucking sex. "It's gonna be boring. She rides me, her naked, me in armor." He tells you and you nod, "not like this." He caresses your legs, "not like this."

You hum, smirking slightly and you reach down to caress the armored chest of his costume. “Well then, why don’t I ride you in your costume before you film, so you can imagine I’m the one on top of you?” You suggest, not even remotely upset by the idea of fucking him again like this. Your pussy clenches down around his softening cock. “Anything I can do to help you.”

Dieter smirks, "Jesus, you'll have me hardening in the damn sock thinking about you but fuck...I can bring the costume back to the trailer another day." He decides and reaches for your hand to kiss your palm. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks softly, knowing you deserve to know how he feels.

Dieter says he loves you all the time, most often after you do something for him he had expected you to refuse. It’s glib and flippant, not real so you don’t ever tell him how it hurts you when he does because you know he doesn’t love love you. “I could stand to hear it more.” You admit, heart twisting and you cup his cheek when he puts your hand against it. “Because I love you too.”

Your adoring gaze makes his heart flutter and he’s reminded once again how he cannot live without you. You’re his rock and you keep him on track, not letting him spiral when things go wrong. He sighs, “not like I want you to” and lets go of your hand to pull out of you. He can’t say how he really feels and he dejectedly tucks his cock away.

The ever shifting moods of Dieter reminds you that he isn’t yours and you decide to just giggle to cover the flare of hurt. “Of course not.” You hum. “That wouldn’t fit your reputation.” You sit up and reach for a towel. “Do you want a snack?” You ask, moving back into caretaker mode.

Dieter watches you shuffle off the bed, reaching for your panties and he sighs, “you don’t get it. I don’t mean- whatever. It’s whatever.” He huffs and decides to head back onto set and find himself something to drink.

You frown when he leaves the trailer before you can put yourself back together. Wondering why he seems so shiftless right now, if he’s feeling guilty about something. You know that he’s not great at expressing himself and sometimes acts out like a child would. He doesn’t like being emotionally vulnerable. You decide to go to the set and see if you can help him.

Dieter is nursing a black coffee when you arrive on set and he is sitting, waiting for the other actors to come back from their break. You walk over to him and he stares at the cup in his hand. “Sorry for - for that.” He manages to get out like it’s painful to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing you need is for Dieter to think you are mad at him. He needs to concentrate on the scenes being filmed today and hopefully by the time he’s done, whatever is upsetting him will have passed. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.” His blood sugar might be low. “I brought you a Kit Kat.” You pull the candy bar out of your bag and offer it to him.

He looks up at you in surprise and takes the chocolate, undoing the wrapper after you take his coffee and he groans as he chews it, not realizing how hungry he was. You stand there in silence and Dieter hands you the wrapper after the AD calls for everyone to return to set. He inhales deeply, mentally shifting into his character.

You sit in the chair he vacated, that is still warm from him sitting there. Watching as he takes his mark and his co-stars also get into position. It’s always interesting to watch Dieter work, the truth in the saying that all artists are slightly mad being very true. You think he is amazing.

Dieter grunts as soon as the director calls action, working on remembering his blocking and the choreography. People think that acting is easy, that it doesn't take a lot, but Dieter's life has been acting and it's exhausting physically and mentally. He gets lost in his character as he works his way through the scene.

You have memorized the lines and the action sequences. Seeing the hard work he has been putting in come to life as he goes through the scenes. Sometime they cut and reset, but you are so impressed and fucking turned on by his competence in this role, it makes you press your thighs together.

Dieter is sweating when he finishes his scene and he strides off set when the director calls cut, taking the bottle of water you have ready for him. He desperately wants a shower so he's relieved when the director calls it for the day and he hands you the water bottle. "Need a damn shower and some weed." He declares, walking off set and you follow him.

You know that he’s tired so you don’t try to talk to him. Just follow him back to the trailer and you pick up his costume as he strips it off, taking it back to wardrobe as he gets into the shower. His comfy sweats and crocs are set out and you have ordered dinner to be delivered to the house by the time you get there.

Dieter stands under the water, eyes closed as he tries to imagine his life when he’s older. He will be too old to be a movie star, too old to be considered another more than a washed up legend. His legacy will be his Oscar and nothing else. He hates the idea of not having anything else written in his eulogy. He hates the thought of being alone. He imagines if he gets the balls to say how he feels about you. Sure, he’s not conventional but he loves you. You don’t care about the fame or the money. You see him, you know him. He imagines being old, watching his kids grow up with you beside him. He wants that. He just needs to tell you for real and hope you don’t crush his crumbling heart in your hands.

Once you’ve returned the costume, you pick up the changes to the script and the blocking for tomorrow, going back to the trailer to pack up the bag you always carry for Dieter. He’s still in the shower, which is a little unusual but you just think that he’s sore. You’ll offer to give him a massage once he’s smoked a little and relaxed. It’s been a long day.

Dieter finally turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. He washes the makeup from his face with the organic cleanser you get him and he comes out to find you waiting for him. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing his eyes, “I just know I’m gonna lose you.” He admits, trying to ignore how fucking pretty you look waiting for him.

You frown, not sure what the hell he is talking about. “Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him and wondering if he might have taken something without you knowing. He's been doing so good with not taking random pills, but this is Dieter. “You aren’t going to lose me unless you wander off.” You joke playfully, reaching out and touching his arm.

He flinches and shakes his head, “no. No. You’re gonna go and all because I can’t control- I can’t stop thinking - fuck!” He yells and you jump, making his frown deepen. “There’s - it’s just all in my head bouncing around all the damn time.” He admits, waving his hands around his wet curls, “you’re gonna leave because you don’t - it’s gonna ruin everything but I can’t stop myself.” He admits and you frown, shaking your head, “Dieter. What’s wro-?” You don’t get to finish before he blurts out, “I’m in love with you!”

Your mouth drops open slightly, shocked by his outburst. His eyes are filled with sorrow, grief. As if you’ve already rejected him. “Dee…” he shakes his head “I knew it.” He mumbles and you step closer. “Know what?” You ask, tilting your head. “That I’m in love with you too? That I’m scared that you’ll find someone else? That you’ll be bored?” You ask, voice shallow and fearful. “Because that’s all true.”

Dieter stares at you in shock, thinking for a second that he’s high or this is some dream. He swallows harshly and reaches for his towel, dragging it from his body. “Dieter.” You whisper in confusion and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “I’m yours. All of me is yours and I stand in front of you now naked and totally exposed, physically and emotionally. I’ve been in love with you for - well, since you started working for me but I think I told myself that I couldn’t indulge in you, couldn’t ruin you, until that first night we slept together and I - no one else came close to you. I love you and I want you. You’re the only person I can ever see myself growing old with.” He admits, his heart pounding under your palm.

You bite your lip and your eyes fill with happy tears. “I always worried that you would move on. That I wasn’t enough.” You admit softly. “But I want you. Perfectly flawed you. I think you are amazing and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Dieter.”

Dieter offers you a soppy smile when he realizes you feel the same way. “You are - Jesus. Seriously?” He asks and you nod, offering him a soft smile as you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “I love you.” He declares before he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, throwing your arms around him and dragging him closer. He loves you. He’s whiny, sometimes annoying and always needy, but he loves you. You pour yourself into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lets it sink in that you love him. “Wanna- wanna grow old with you. Well, older.” He says when you pull back and he points at himself, his wrinkles that he’s insecure about.

Leaning in, you press your lips to the wrinkles and smile at him when you pull back. “Only if you’re willing to steal your costume after you finish shooting.” You joke, kissing him again.

Dieter chuckles, “now that I can agree to.” He promises, caressing your back. “Definitely going to steal that one to take home.” He promises, “for now though…let’s go home and have dinner before I spend all night making love to my girlfriend.” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered,” you tell him as you pull back and smile at him. “We’ll smoke a little and then I’ll ride you before rubbing your back.” You tell him the plan as you turn around to reach for his clothes. “How does that sound, baby?”

“Fuck, you really are my soulmate.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He orders, slapping your ass. “Uh, you might want to get dressed.” You say and he chuckles, nodding as he grabs the sweats you laid out for him. “Don’t want anyone else seeing the goods. Yours and only yours.” He winks at you as he pulls his pants up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head while he slides into his crocs. “Sports mode.” He jokes as he pulls the straps up over his ankle.

You roll your eyes, laughing at the complete dork that you love. He’s quirky in about a million ways and sometimes drives you crazy with his antics, but you don’t want him any other way. Especially if he’s going to roleplay a Roman general with you for the rest of your life. “Let’s go home, babe.” You tell him, grabbing the bag. “We’ll practice your sex scene until we get it right.”

“Fuck yes.” He cheers as you walk out of his trailer and he takes your hand, not caring about anything other than showing you how he feels about you. “Food, weed, then some crazy lovemaking.” He decides and squeezes your hand, “you know…I have a costume left over from Cliff Beasts we could try out.” He teases and you snort, “that’s just your robe. You used your own for the character.” Dieter smirks, “could be sexy if we roleplay it the right way.” He suggests, “these cliff beasts are so large-a.” He does his accent and you sigh, “I hate that that works on me.” Dieter grins, “gonna be a damn good life together, baby.” He declares and you giggle, “yeah it is, Bravo.”

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh . . . bsd x reader

tattoos the bsd men have ! feat. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai, kunikida, akutagawa, atsushi

~ fluff, headcanons, dubious grammar

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

osamu dazai ~ collarbone

arguably the sluttiest bsd character, i can totally see dazai having a collarbone tattoo

ALWAYS showing that shit off, like opening the top couple buttons of his white shirt so you can see it *drools excessively*

i don’t think he’d ever get anything with personal significance to him because of the loss trauma he already has

that being said, i think *over time* in y’all’s relationship it starts to gain significance to him

i.e., you always kissing that spot <33

slowly, something with limited meaning that was only meant for aethetic reasons becomes something that makes him think of you every time he sees it

ngl, this scares him a little bit since he’s so used to being left

so you gotta stay for him and let him know it’s gonna be okay <333

that being said, the primary reason he got it was to like the way his body looks again (assuming it’s damaged/scarred under the bandages or he’s just insecure)

so the ink PLUS your affections- he’s so happy <33

chuuya nakahara ~ pelvis

oh lord

i’m sorry he’s just so— ESDRUTFYIGUBLVICU

^ me thinking about chuuya with tattoos. anyways

because of his job in the port mafia i don’t think he’d have anything that’s visible in his normal clothes

but this way it would be EXTRA secret and only for your eyes !!!

chuuya would have a tattoo on his pelvis of your name

some couples have tattoos in eachother’s handwriting, but chuuya is a man of refined taste, so he gets it done in an elegant cursive font (not to offend your handwriting, but it is permantly on *his* body after all)

needless to say, you give it lots of attention in general, kisses and gentle touches

but also during *stuff*

he’s so obsessed with you, PLEASE get matching tatts with him

omggg i can see your matching tattoo being in a roman style all-caps font

whether it’s his name or an important date, he doesn’t mind, just the thought that you dedicated something to him gives him butterlies <33

fyodor dostoyevsky ~ sternum

soooo

this crazy religious man/anemic rat would most likely not get tattoos

whether that was due to his religious practices or just his personal preferences i don’t see him ever wanting tattoos at all

BUT we’re gonna ignore that for this

in this case, i think he’d get a cross tattoo down his sternum

something detailed and intricate, and since he’s russian it would most likely me the orthodox cross

MAYBE if you’re extra special *coughs* useful to him *coughs* he’ll get your initials somewhere & very small (just to manipulate you into trusting him more)(okay sorry i’ll stop-)

nikolai gogol ~ thigh

i know we always talk about this man’s thick thighs but like. LETS TALK SOME MORE

ANYWAYS, i can see him getting something really ornate like flowers or fish or something

i think once you’ve been together for a while he’d get something dedicated to you like your name or your initials

i can totally see him getting it in your handwriting (even if it’s messy, you apologize but he doesnt care <3)

STOP CAUSE HE’D TOTALLY GET SOMETHING DEDICATED TO YOU AND ‘FORGET’ TO TELL YOU-

like y’all would be doing *stuff* or just like hanging out or whatever and you’d see it and be like……baby what is this

and he’ll be like ‘oh yeah i got that a few months ago!’ BITCH??!??!?!?!?

anyways ten minutes later you’re tearing up (after berating him) cause he’s just so <333

bonus crack note: i feel like he’d get something so stupid like a meme or wtv and you’re just like. babe you know this is permanant right. and he’s like yeah i know.

doppo kunikida ~ forearm

drooling at the thought of kunikida with tattoosssss

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he would get it on his forearm so he could always see it himself, and it wouldn’t matter about his work uniform because he always wears long sleeves in public anyways

i think he would get something like a picture, and kinda detailed

maybe like a cherry blossom or some fishies or something :))

AND he’d have your name tied into the design somehow in like a really intricate way

long story short, it took a long time for you to convince this guy to get a tattoo since he’s so obsessed with his ideals (getting permanant ink etched into his skin is NOT in his notebook)

BUT after careful deliberation the two of y’all planned out matching tattoos

they’re not totally identical & they both reflect y’all’s styles and stuff, but you have eachothers names/important dates in there <3

sigma ~ nape

i feel like sigma (canonically?) doesn't really feel 'human', and he's not sure what getting a tattoo would be like for his body

idk i feel like he wouldn't really 'get' the point of tattoos and kind of question it

anyways, assuming he's working at the casino, he would want something that would be easy to conceal every day

AND he has beautiful luscious hair.....

which leads me to a nape tattoo (i actually didn't know what this was called until today cause i had to google it,.... but basically it's the back of your neck)

would DEFINETELY get something super meaningful, like a symbol to him or something

he would absolutely tie your initials into it too

overall just. 10/10 he's so gorgeous

ryuunoske akutagawa ~ chest

another one i don’t really think would be into tattoos

similar to dazai, i feel like he’s too insecure/subconcious about his body or just doesn’t care about his looks that much

however, after you convince him to get a tattoo on his chest (he vaguely mentioned they looked cool and then you encouraged him) he gains some confidence!!!

i think it would probably be something that looks badass, like a snake or uhhhh something

i don’t think the actual symbol will have much meaning to him, but it’s what you make of it <3

he loves it when you lay your head on his chest (not quite cuddling fully because i don’t think he’d like physical contact that much) and you leave gentle kisses on it <33

tldr: you help him heal.

atsushi nakajima ~ hand

LAST BUT NOT LEAST OKAY!!!!!

idk something about his vibes and that haircut gives me hand tatt vibes <33

he would DEFINTELY get something that had significance to him & likely something related to you

this boy would absolutely get something with your name, screw that he’d get a whole biography of your entire life tattooed on his entire body in fluttery cursive font

this boy is W H I P P E D for you like. it’s bad

i also feel like he’d get colored ink instead of just black

anyways, kiss his hands and tell him he’s pretty <33

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part 2 anyone????? also i'll do full fics/drabbles of these if anyone wants (SEND ME REQUESTS PLSSSSS ANYTHING)