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PAUL MESCAL Photographed by Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott for W Magazine

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Mercy & No Mercy

Gladiator II

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cintya

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jordan brown

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The Prize of Rome {II}

Lucius Verus x Empress!Reader x Emperor Geta request: no gif credits: @pedgito @gaybuckybarnesss (gifs aren't mine, please don't mistake them with the original owner) divider credits: @adornedwithlight @cafekitsune Summary: Lucius and Y/n have an emotional reunion. Geta and Y/n try to find an understanding with one another. Rome begins to demand an heir from their Emperor and Empress. Warnings: 18+, MDNI, making out, thigh riding, emotions, light!threatening, Geta shows a softer side, protective!lucius, possessive!geta, accusations of infidelity, suggestive non-consensual sex/rape, geta admits he might love y/n Word Count: 3.2k Disclaimer: I don't own Gladiator II or its characters, nor do I claim them as my own Comments, likes and reblogs are always adored and appreciated xx this fic is inspired by Ghost - Griftwood

hope this lives up to the first part and you all enjoy this just as much <3

Part I

Suffering for the Lord is not an easy thing. Be it a conjuring.

Finding her bedchambers, she rested her hand over her chest and sat on the bed. Could it be him? It’s not possible; why would he be here and, as a gladiator, a slave? Y/n tried to calm her breathing as she jumped at the doors opening loudly as Geta walked through, his robes gliding along the marble flooring. His posture was hunched, and Y/n could feel the blend of wrath and confusion radiating off him. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look at him, her body shaking as he knelt before her. The deafening silence filled the air before Geta’s voice cut through. “Do you know that gladiator?” He asked with a cold gaze filling his hazel eyes, and while such an accusation or question was not unusual to come from him, his tone made her blood turn cold. It was menacing and suspicious. “No, Geta, I do not. Why would you ask such a question?” She answered him back, weaving in a question of her own. She wasn’t lying completely, as she did not know him; she didn’t think she did. But she perhaps figured she might find him familiar, and something in his eyes when he looked upon her told her he felt the same.

Geta gripped her shoulders, pulling her toward him, his eyes aflame with mixed emotions. His lips curled into a venomous snarl; the sight terrified her as she struggled in his grip. “Geta, you are hurting me.” She whimpered. “If I discover you are fucking that gladiator, I will end his life before he has the chance to utter a word, and I will make you watch my sweet dove. There would be no more fitting punishment that I would take pride in than watching you cry for the death of another man whom you shared your body with other than me.” He threatened as Y/n pushed him back and released a shaky breath.

Slapping his face, the echo rang through the bedchamber. “I may despise you, Geta, but I am not fucking any other man but my husband, who continues to force himself upon me night and day. And even if I could try to master such a plan of deceiving you by doing such an act, I would not fair too well. You never let me out of my sight.” She slammed her fists, colliding with his chest, her own rising and falling with all the rage pouring out of her. “You stole me. You claimed me. And you broke me. Moulded me into your vision of a wife and Empress. I am not allowed maids to speak to; I am not allowed freedom to wander the palace halls without you holding me hostage in your arms. Believe me, I wish I could feel the touch of another man; perhaps that gladiator would provide a more sensual fucking than you. At least my pleasure might come first for a change; it never will with you. You do not have a soul; you do not care for me or my heart.” 

So ordained and adored, so immaculate. Ooh, so worth the debt.

The fury and hurt behind her words made Geta question himself, fighting the urge to throw her on the bed and have his way with her. And comforting her in perhaps the way a husband should. That is not the man he is; he’s Emperor; he cannot afford to show weakness, can he? His fists clenched in tight balls as Y/n stared at his hands.  Silence fell between them before meeting his heated stare. Walking toward him slowly, Y/n stood before him, her eyes daring him to lash out at her. Geta held her face; his eyes turned soft, and the tender affection made Y/n flinch slightly. “To endure pleasure and happiness, one must first experience pain and suffering. We are each other’s salvation, and I, your protection. As my wife and Empress, I will give you whatever you want that I can give within my power. I want you to give in to me and stop your fighting. Accept me as your husband and emperor; that is all I require. Your loyalty and love. I am willing to act on my part as a dutiful husband and Emperor and be kinder if you wish me to be, but only if you are willing to give yourself to me wholeheartedly.” Geta’s voice turned shaky, and the pads of his fingers were brushing along the apple of her cheeks with delicate strokes. Y/n could see the flicker of yearning in his eyes. She found herself leaning into his touch. “How do I know you so not speak a lie? I know how manipulative you can be, Geta. Do not think I have seen the way you treat Caracalla.” Y/n spoke barely above a whisper. Geta parted his lips a beat of silence before he spoke. “My sweetling, in my heart, as cold and cruel as it may seem. I am beginning to feel…” He paused, almost as if he was fighting himself to speak the words he wanted to say. Afraid Y/n may see him as a weak man. Pushing the fear aside, he continued with a steady breath. “I cannot describe my thoughts when I am with you. You…you vex me. Torment me. Ever since our meeting, do you not remember?” He began, and Y/n cut him off.

“Oh, I remember well. You and Caracalla were betting on which of you would be granted the prize of taking my virtue. To which then you admitted that you would keep me bed-bound. Neither of you were exactly subtle.” She gave him a sickly sweet smile Geta sighed, his thumbs moved down to trace along her bottom lip, pulling it down slowly, his other hand trailing down her throat and down to cup her breast in his hand. His gentle touch had her leaning into him like a spider luring its prey. “And that is why the gods have fated us together. We bring out each other’s strengths and weaknesses; we are the perfect balance. This is what Rome needed: an Emperor and Empress who would help create the Rome we have dreamed of for so long. We may learn to love each other in time, but for now, we must navigate our path together. Anger and hate will come and pass, but that will fade in time. If we let our hearts falter, we could tolerate our differences.” Y/n felt her breathing grow weak at her husband’s honeyed words. She didn’t know if he was being true or whether it was a lie. But in a battle of her mind and heart. This time; it was her heart that had won.  

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The day of the first games in the arena was grand; the announcer welcomed everyone to the Colosseum. The loud horns rang through Y/n’s ears as she walked beside Geta to the front of their seats. “Emperor Caracalla! Emperor Geta and his new wife, Empress Y/n!” Geta and Caracalla raised their hands as the crowd cheered and praised their Emperors. Geta sensed Y/n’s uneasiness and held out his other hand for her to hold. It was the beginning of his gentler side accepting his hand with a small smile. She followed his image and raised her other hand; her bright grin sent the crowd into an uproar of cheers. Geta’s eyes widened, and his lips parted in surprise. “I am Empress; I must play my part. Should I not?” She asked him, and he grinned in response, kissing her hand and taking their seats Y/n sat beside Geta on his throne. General Marcus and Lucilla arrived and were seated behind as Y/n looked upon them both. She stretched out her hand for Lucilla to hold as the older woman rested her head on Y/n’s hand. Marcus nodded gently as the Emperors beckoned him forward to say a few words to the crowd. Y/n listened to his speech. He always said he was not a speaker, but he definitely had a way with his words today. 

Y/n clapped her hands in admiration. Marcus looked at the Emperors, bowing his head slightly. He leant down to kiss Y/n’s hand. “Empress.” He smiled lightly before returning to his seat with Lucilla. Y/n’s eyes found the familiar gladiator walking into the arena, and his eyes immediately found hers. As if time stood still, Y/n could almost hear his faint breathing. His fingers flexed around the sword's hilt as he marched to the centre. Y/n leant forward slightly, a slight smile appearing on her lips. Whether he was the man she thought he was or a stranger, the aura around him drew her in like a moth to a flame. Geta and Caracalla’s champion emerged from his gate, standing atop a rhino as he rode out to the arena. As he and the other fighters readied their swords. Geta leant forward, his face close to Y/n’s, his blood pumping with adrenaline, watching the gladiators fight for their lives. “Is this not thrilling seeing them fight to the death? Watching lives end before your very eyes.” Geta exclaimed with a raise of his goblet, a loud cry of praise as his champion killed a gladiator. “Why the rhino? Is your champion not strong enough to fight on his feet?” 

Y/n asked with a teasing tone. Geta rolled his eyes at her comment, his eyes shining with amusement also, his eyes refocused on the fighting as he pointed into the arena. “It would seem our poet gladiator is showing off for you, my love. Look at him.” Y/n followed him, and true to his words, her eyes met with the gladiator, who kept glancing toward her as he fought with undeniable rage. As the arena fell silent, the man fell to one knee, stabbing his sword into the ground; the gladiator leant down to pick up some dirt and stone in his hands. That looked strangely familiar; she only knew one other gladiator who did the same; she and a little boy she used to know had seen it once. Y/n frowned as the gladiator looked over his shoulder. Seeing her reaction, a faint smile built on his lips. That smile. It was him. 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬. 

She mouthed his name as she looked at Lucilla, who shared the same perplexed expression as she watched in interest. Unwrapping the small gift Marcus and Lucilla gave her on her wedding night, Y/n twirled the small ring in her hands to comfort her. It was Lucius’ ring he wore as a child; it would have been the ring he would wear as Emperor. Her nerves built in her stomach as she tightly held Geta’s hand, watching the rhino charge toward Lucius. Clapping his hands together, the dust created a perfect cloud, and he jumped out of the way for the rhino to hit the wall. Clutching onto Geta as she screamed in fright. Y/n looked over the edge with Geta and Caracalla in shock. Caracalla laughed, jumping up and down as he revelled in the close encounter. Holding Y/n’s hand, he giggled. “Did you see it, sister? The rhino almost had him.” Y/n only gave him a nod in response, unable to form words.

As the fight between the gladiators commenced, Lucius was overpowered by his competition. “You remember our poet brother?” Geta asked Caracalla, who slumped in his chair. “Can’t remember. That night was a blur.” Geta began to recite the poetry; as he could not finish it, he gazed down at Y/n. “My love, you know poetry, how does it go?” He smiled brightly as Y/n recited it with a clear voice. “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to come back from hell and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.” Lucilla’s eyes widened slightly, standing to get a clearer view of Lucius. When he lay on the ground, the crowd began to cheer for mercy as Geta looked at his brother. “Blood.” He said with excitement.

Geta looked to Y/n next. “Y/n, shall we show mercy?” Y/n smiled at her husband. “Mercy.” Geta let Y/n stand beside him. As he raised his ringed hand, forming a fist, he pointed out his thumb. Before turning it up with a grin, the crowd cheered, and Y/n felt her heart relax as she turned to sit and heard his voice shout out. “NO MERCY!” Geta grinned as he shook his head. “You have been spared by the gods-” His sentence was cut off. “I would sooner face your blade. Then accept mercy.” As he continued to fight, Y/n looked at Lucilla with worry, and then she looked to Marcus, silently pleading with him to do something. Slashing his sword inside his competitor, Lucius breathed heavily as everyone chanted kill. Geta raised his hand again and pointed his thumb down as Lucius twirled his dual swords and slashed the man’s head clean off his shoulders. Y/n buried her face in Geta’s chest as the crowd cheered. “HANNO! HANNO! HANNO!” 

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Later in the evening, Y/n visited the gladiator cells to search for the man they called Hanno. Approaching his cell, the door opened, and it closed behind her. Rising to his feet, they stared at each other silently as they slowly approached. Their faces an inch apart, Y/n’s hushed voice broke the cell’s deafening stillness. “Am I seeing an illusion, or are you really here, Lucius?” Careful not to speak his name too loud, his blue eyes shined at mentioning his real name. The name he had not heard for many years, a smile appeared on his face. “It is me. Though I am not the same boy you once knew, not the one who was sent away that day.” Y/n traced her fingers along his jaw, feeling his beard's roughness and moving to his hair. “You’ve grown so handsome. You look so much like him.” She admired his features, her eyes falling on his lips, and she wanted to kiss him.

Holy Mother. You washeth the sin from my feet

Holy Mother. You shine like the sun and the moon

And the stars in the sky

To feel his lips upon hers like she had dreamed for so long, even if it was brief. “I see you are Empress now; how fortuitous you are.” His husky voice sent a shiver down her back, her hands resting on his chest. “I was forced to; after you had left, my father sought to put me within the Emperor’s gaze to make them like me. Geta, of course, immediately claimed me as his betrothed. It thrilled him that he was stealing me away from another man. However, his knowledge that we were promised to one another does not exist.” She murmured. Lucius leant in his nose and glided along her cheek, his lips grazing her jaw. “Lucius” She moaned his name, a breathless gasp emitting from her lips. A low grunt rumbled in his chest as he pulled her onto his lap, then guided her to straddle his thigh. Claiming her mouth in a heated kiss, her muffled moans filled the cell, her hips rolling to ride his toned thigh, the muscles flexing under her weight.

“Been dreaming of you every night. You’ve never left my mind.” Lucius breathed heavily between kisses Y/n let out a small sob, bracing her hands on his shoulders. “I wish it was you instead of him. It helps when I think it’s you fucking me and not Geta. When I saw you fight, I could only imagine feeling your arms around me again. I have missed you; my heart has been broken too long.” A tear escaped her eye. Lucius kissed it away, his blue eyes meeting hers in a loving gaze, holding her face in his hand. “I will win these games. I will become a free man, and I will free you from his hold. We will leave Rome behind 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. I promise I will never leave you again.” Lucius groaned, feeling her arousal seep through her undergarments and drip onto his bare skin.

Grazing his lips along hers, Lucius ran his tongue over her lip, earning a whine from the empress as he moved her dress and undergarments aside. Rolling his thumb along her clit he rested his cheek on hers. “There you are, my sweet, you want to come for me. What will your emperor think if he finds out you are being seduced by a gladiator such as me? Jealous? Infuriated?” He grinned Y/n buried her face in his neck to muffle her cries of pleasure, her body shattering as she came. Lucius kissed her shoulder, swiping his thumb between her folds and gathering some of her wetness. “How filthy you are, getting off just by my words.” He gave a lighthearted laugh as he pecked her lips softly. 

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You want to console the griever? (Yes)

You want to guide the believer? (Yes)

You and the greatest deceiver?

And never ever suffer again

Time passed as Y/n once again heard the demands of the senators asking for an heir. Shivering at the idea, Y/n refused to look at her husband, but his gentle side did not last long. He had heard about her little late-night endeavour with Lucius and made a show of his possessive nature once again. Marking her and fucking her raw until she was begging and pleading for his mercy. And even then, he didn’t think she deserved his mercy. She sought another man’s touch—a Gladiator. Geta was enraged when he did not find her in their bedchamber; searching the place for her, a guard informed him he had seen her sneak into the gladiator cells. So, biding his time, Geta waited patiently for her return; when she did, he gestured for her to sit on his lap. Knowing that he knew, Y/n timidly approached him. Geta downed his wine with a heavy sigh. “I have a remarkable story to tell; it’s about a woman who lied to her husband and freely gave her body to this other man. And when the woman’s husband found out, would you like to hear how he resolved the matter?” He gave a sinister grin; his grip on her dress grew tight as he tore it off her body. “He made an example of his fury. And he made her beg for his forgiveness. So let us begin, shall we? Get on the bed.” He snarled, ridding himself of his robes; he parted her legs and climbed on top of her. “I believe a favourable way of beginning to earn my forgiveness will be letting me breed you until you give me my heir. Then, we will decide how to proceed. Do you agree, sweet dove?” Y/n felt tears well in her eyes as she nodded, her voice cracking as she spoke with a quiet whimper. “Yes, husband.”

dt: @doodle-with-rhy @happysparklingshadows @hutx45oovuijj @ro-sa-le-en

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Soft blue morning - Lucius Verus x fem!Reader

Lucius wakes before you and takes a moment to admire you

Content: fluff, reader is a woman, not much else

Words: 368

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Lucius wakes to the soft silence of early morning, the deep hazy blue of the sky beyond his window the first thing that greets him as his eyes blink open. The sun hasn't yet broken over the horizon, only the barest trickle of light seeping into the sky.

The second thing to greet him is the soft warm weight of the body beside him, curled gently into his side under the blankets. A hint of a smile creeps across his face as he turns his head to where she lays, his hand finding hers as it rests on his chest, soft and delicate under his, and as he looks down at that sweet face that's mashed slightly unceremoniously against his shoulder he feels a well of emotion rise in his chest. He thinks that Venus herself may have created her, sculpted her from from marble and set her to life. She must have plucked stars from the sky to light her eyes, closed though they currently are.

A soft snore sounds from her and he can't help a small chuckle at how even a less than graceful sound seems holy in her. Careful not to disturb her he shifts, pressing a tender kiss to the edge of her hair that lingers for a long moment. As if feeling it, she lets out a small sigh, nuzzling somehow closer to him and his heart could burst with the joy that it brings him. For her to find such comfort in him, that he could mean safety to her, it's a gift he could never have dreamed to ask for.

The sky lightens more, and Lucius knows he should be beginning his day, but the gentle rise and fall of her breath and the curl of her fingers around his as she sleeps is argument enough to convince him that the day can wait. With another kiss laid on her brow, he settles back against his pillow with a contentedness that almost surprises him in its absoluteness. But he decides not to dwell on it, electing instead to simply enjoy the cool quiet and let the world consist of nothing but this bed and the woman he shares it with.

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The Prize of Rome

Lucius Verus x Empress!Reader x Emperor Geta request: no gif credits: @pauls-mescal @pedgito (gifs aren't mine, please don't mistake them with the original owner) divider credits: @adornedwithlight @cafekitsune Summary: Y/n was once promised to Lucius, son of Maximus, shortly after his and the death of Commodus. Fleeing so he wouldn't be killed, Y/n's fate was sealed when she was forced to marry Emperor Geta. Warnings: 18+, MDNI, forced marriage, first-time, forced sex (non-consensual), forced orgasm, rough sex, slight!possessive!geta, violence, blood, conflicted feelings Word Count: 3k Disclaimer: I don't own Gladiator II or its characters, nor do I claim them as my own Comments, likes and reblog are always adored and appreciated xx this fic is inspired by Ghost - Griftwood

dt: @willowpains

part II coming soon

Y/n couldn’t remember much after the events of Maximus and Commodus. She saw Lucilla take Lucius from the arena as they carried away Maximus’ body. Her eyes fell behind her as Commodus lay still, blood seeping into the earth beneath him. The young girl sniffled, her eyes torn between watching Lucilla and the gladiators take Maximus away. Wanting to run to Lucius, she followed behind, calling out to him; the young boy held out his hand, their fingers brushing before either could fully grip the other’s hand. Lucilla held Y/n back, crying as she watched her son flee Rome for his own safety so he would not be killed. “Lucius!” Y/n cried, the dust floating through the air as the horses galloped out of Rome. “Y/n!” She heard Lucius scream through his tears; his head turned back to look at Y/n’s solemn face. That was the day Y/n felt true sadness. Until it wasn’t the only one she would face, the worst days would come.

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Sacrifice for the horde leads the way from shame

Be it a loser's game

The disdain and abhorred lash of the Senate whip

Ooh, it's a power trip

A tear fell down her cheek as Y/n, now eighteen, stood beside her to-be-husband, Emperor Geta. The wedding ceremony proceeded without objections, and why would they? Dare to interrupt an Emperor’s wedding, and you’ll be killed. Y/n looked to her left, seeing General Marcus Acacius stand where her father would have stood; a few years after Lucius left Rome, her father fell gravely ill and pleaded with the Geta’s father to marry Geta and Y/n, knowing it was a secure and political match. But also, it was a way for Y/n to secure her family's name into power, even if she did not want it. Marcus gave a nod with a small reassuring smile Y/n held back her quiet sobs, feeling the grip of Geta’s hand on hers tighten. His head angled to face her. “I would say it’s disrespectful to cry on your wedding day, but you look beautiful while doing so.” The dark makeup around his eyes made them more piercing as they stared into hers. Geta’s gaze took her breath away, though if he wasn’t the tyrant he had become, she would dare say he was handsome. 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞. But her mind nor heart would allow her to feel such a way about him. At the same time, his other hand grasped her chin. A dark smile spread; he turned to look at the priest, an impatient look on his face. The older man nodded and bowed his head—a sign he could kiss his bride.

Geta wasted no time, pulling Y/n in for a harsh kiss, consuming her startled cry within their kiss. The thunderous applause filled Y/n’s ears as she slapped Geta’s chest, pushing him away. Geta’s eyes widened a wild glint in his brown-hazel eyes, and his wicked grin sent a chilled shiver through her body. Grasping her waist, he faces his subjects, raising his vacant arm. “Behold, my Empress! My beloved Y/n! Bow before her, for she is the new Prize of Rome!” He shouted, his voice echoing as everyone cheered and praised Y/n’s name. Her eyes flickered to Geta’s brother, and now her brother-in-law clapped loudly, a look of excitement filling his face. Y/n pitied him; maybe she had a friend in her new life as Empress. In truth, she knew of his conditions and the on-off ill-treatment he suffered from Geta; perhaps they could be of comfort to each other. “Let our feasts and celebrations begin! Much to be celebrated on the wondrous day, the Gods have spoken and have gifted me with the most precious jewel a man can be bestowed.” He turned his attention back to Y/n, licking his lips, staring her body up and down, the lust evident in his eyes. Y/n shuffled under, wanting to find Acacius, but Geta stopped her. Holding her face in his hands, the coldness of the rings touching her heated skin. “But what a gift the gods have given me. My Empress, for you, you were promised to a ghost. And now you are mine.” 

The celebrations continued until the night Y/n sat beside Geta as he and Caracalla cheered and clapped for the entertainment. “It is your wedding day. It should be a happy occasion.” Marcus spoke beside her as he sat in the empty seat; his hand held hers comfortingly. “I cannot be happy, knowing my life is no longer mine. But it belongs to Rome. My husband.” She tried to hold back her tears Marcus’ brows creased in understanding; he felt the sadness grow in his heart; his eyes fell on the Emperor’s before flickering back to Y/n. “Lucilla asked me to speak with you about…” He cleared his throat, pausing momentarily. His deep brown eyes found hers with an uneasy gaze. “Your wedding night.”

Y/n closed her eyes, shaking her head quickly. “No. No, I don’t want to-” She pleaded softly. “My child, as daunting as it may seem, you must. Do not be afraid; I will never be far. I made a promise to you when your father died that I will always protect you, did I not? And for your survival now, you must partake in these acts that involve a husband and wife. Lucilla gave me this to give to you.” He handed her a small gift wrapped in a cloth. Y/n wanted to embrace Marcus, hold him close and never let him go. He was the father she never had, the father she would have preferred than the pitiful excuse of the one she had. “It is time for us to retire to our bedchamber for the night, my wife. Come.” Geta’s low whisper hit her ear; knowing what he meant, Y/n’s eyes grew fearful. Geta’s eyes fell on the General. 

“General, might I have my wife now.” He tilted his head with a narrowing of his eyes; though he knew General Acacius meant no threat, it was a man no less in the proximity of his now wife. Marcus leant back, bowing his head gently. “Emperor. Empress. My apologies.” Y/n slowly raised herself to her feet and stood beside Geta. Her husband grinned, spreading his arm wide. “Let the bedding ceremony commence!” The senators clapped and raised their goblets. Caracalla clapped the loudest once again as he wriggled in his seat, brimming with joy. “Bed her well, brother! She’ll be an easy fuck, for sure. Quite fragile to break, like glass.” He jumped in his seat Y/n refused to look at either brother, her eyes trying to find focus on something else in the palace. “I intend to do just that, brother; she’ll be bedridden for days.” The brothers laughed as they clashed their goblets together, downing their wine.

Geta swept Y/n over his shoulder as she screamed out, slapping his back and kicking her feet. “Ahh! Put me down!” Geta laughed manically, parading her around for all of the Senators to see, reaching out for General Acacius Y/n cried out for him. “General!” His soulful eyes watched in pity as Geta carried her away, knowing what awaited the young Empress. Removing himself from the palace walls, he could hear her distant cries for help, and the pain in his heart grew. But he couldn’t do anything; a move against the Emperor meant death. No matter how valuable you may seem. Even if you are a General. 

You want to play with the sire? (Yes)

You want a view from the spire? (Yes)

You want a seat by the pyre?

And never ever suffer again

Geta shouted for the servants and guards to leave as he went down the long hall toward his bedchamber. The doors opened and slammed shut behind him. Y/n thrashed on his shoulder, fighting to be released. Cursing him with fueled anger, Geta only continued to laugh. “My Empress is fiery, that will serve her well in Rome.” Slapping her ass, Y/n slipped down his chest; as he caught her. Removing her crown and throwing it on the lush cushioning on the floor, Y/n slapped Geta’s face, removed herself from his grip, and ran to the door. Geta wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to his chest. The pair fell to the floor as they rolled around, fighting for the upper hand. Geta pinned Y/n beneath him—a mad smile on his face. “Ooh, you do have fight in you; I love that in a woman. It makes her even funnier to tame, fuck her until she is a weeping mess.” He licked his lips. Y/n struggled underneath him, kicking in his groin; he coughed loudly, groaning in pain as he faltered above her as she pushed him off. Scrambling to escape, he held her foot, pulling her back. The tears streaming down her heated cheeks fell onto the lush rug as Geta threw her on her back, ripping and tearing her dress.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He taunted his wandering hands and worked their way up and down. Y/n gripped his hands and tried to remove them. Punching and slapping him as she screamed. Geta caught her wrists in his hands, his eyes aflame with a mix of fury and desire. His tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip, Y/n felt her breathing grow still. Geta’s mouth found hers in a heated kiss, swallowing her muffled moans of protest. “I have been patient all evening, but now I plan to fuck you until you cannot walk.” He panted heavily between kisses and removed his robe; Y/n hated that he was beautiful. God, she hated that he was her husband. Geta spread her reluctant legs, his body slipping between. Removing the remaining shreds of her wedding dress, Geta admired his wife’s naked body. “You indeed are Venus herself. I have been gifted with the most exquisite creature to share my throne and my bed. To bear my children. To rule as Empress by my side.”

Geta’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Y/n almost felt he was genuine until the twisted feeling in her gut told her he was manipulating her. “You feel nothing, Geta.” She spat his name like venom in her mouth; the young emperor frowned, visually hurt by her words. Entering her in one harsh thrust, Y/n cried out at the painful intrusion. Geta’s lips curled into a snarl fucking her roughly; though she hated him, her body denied the hate. Geta could feel her walls struggling to accommodate his thick cock as he buried himself deep inside her. Not giving her any respite or chance to adjust, Geta’s jaw went slack Y/n felt tears brim her eyes; gripping his arms, she tried to focus on anything but the pain. It will be over soon. It will be over soon. 

Geta ran his tongue over her neck, his hands holding a firm grip on her hips. “The harder you fight, the more painful it will be.” Geta’s muffled voice rang through her ears Y/n released a broken sob, continuing to wriggle free, but Geta’s patience was wearing thin; fine, have it your way. Geta pulled out of her and spun her onto her stomach; grasping her hips with a deathly grip, he entered her from behind. This time, his thrusts were non-merciful, her pained moans filling their bedchamber. Geta's fingers threaded through her hair and pulled her head back. Lowering himself down to press his chest to her back firmly, his breath hit her face with heavy pants. “I can be gentle when I want to be. But you have forced me to take matters into my own hands. I will fuck you tonight like a whore, and you will take it. From this moment on, I will have you begging for my mercy! No one can help you now; you are bound to me.” He sneered, his teeth bared Y/n could see their reflection in a gold vase. The violence of Geta’s true nature appears on his face. Y/n dug her fingers into the rug, her mind drifting to him. Lucius—𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬. Geta’s erratic thrusts grew harder as he gripped Y/n’s hand in his. Though she couldn’t help it, her walls clenched around Geta’s cock as she came, her body shaking from the overwhelming mix of pleasure and pain as Geta roared, pulling Y/n back and seating her in his lap as he came inside her. Coating her walls with his seed, his hips stuttered, and his breathy moans fanned over her shoulder. His lips made gentle contact with her skin, his fingers sweeping her hair to the side, and he turned her face to look at him. The tear stains and pouted lips made her look like an ethereal vision. Geta smiled with a dreamy sigh, caressing her cheek and lips. “You truly do look beautiful when you cry.” 

Y/n remained silent as she sat with Geta on his lap. His large throne could easily accommodate both of them, but Geta preferred to show his claim on Y/n, and there was no better way than having her placed upon his lap to show his power. His arm wrapped possessively around her waist, holding her close, his lips pressing kisses along her shoulder and neck. “We have some entertainment, my dove. I think you will be impressed.” He grinned Y/n knew what he meant by entertainment. 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬. Unfazed, her eyes looked to the centre of the room as two men entered an open space. A Senator stepped out, bowing graciously. “My Emperors! My Empress! Lords, ladies and gentlemen and senators. For your entertainment.” He walked in a circle, announcing with a loud voice that made everyone quiet to listen to him. “The art of combat. May I present the barbarian versus from my own stable.” He announced his champion's name as everyone clapped. Y/n found herself drawn to the younger man, his blue eyes piercing her soul as he stared at her also. Watching him walk to the centre, Y/n felt dread seep into her body. She couldn’t understand why, but there was something about him. Feeling her breath falter, she believed she was staring at someone she knew long ago. Unable to tear her eyes away as he fought, she knew it was him. A wave of warmth flooded her, knowing he had possibly returned, but she feared he might not have remembered her. When Caracalla announced swords should be entered into the fight, the two fighters were given swords, each invading and evading the other’s swings with perfect timing. However, the younger gladiator was the clear winner in Y/n’s eyes. His rage. She had seen the same rage before in another gladiator, and this man had the same. Using it as his tool of defence and to his strength, he overpowered his competitor.

Winning his match, Geta looked at his wife, who stared at the young gladiator in amazement. “He was brilliant, my dove. Did you enjoy it? Hmm.” He cradled her cheek, and she feigned a smile with a slight nod. “It was…captivating.” She spoke softly. Geta laughed with a nod. “Oh, sweetling, I understand it was your first time witnessing combat. The more you see, the better you can stomach it.” The young gladiator watched silently as he couldn’t remove his eyes from Y/n. She was alive, and she was Empress. All these years, he was afraid she was long gone, and he would never see her again. But there she sat ten feet before him; he swore he was looking at Venus. She had probably heard that too often, but it was true. His heart raced the longer he looked at her, the more his anger fueled at Emperor Geta laying his hands on the woman he was promised to. If only he could swing his sword and behead the Emperor now, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Geta rested Y/n on his throne as he kissed her lips quickly before approaching the gladiator, praising his fighting. “Remarkable! Remarkable!” He looked at the gladiator in amazement. “From where do you hail? Speak.”

The gladiator looked at Y/n, and their eyes locked. Geta turned, observing before asking the gladiator to speak when he refused to answer. “He seems quite taken with you, my dove. Perhaps he has never seen a woman as beautiful as you from where he is from.” He laughed as Y/n parted her lips, shifting in the throne. “Do not mock him, husband. You do not want your neck to be kissed with his blade.” The gladiator smirked as he looked back to Geta, who pointed at his wife. “My Empress tends to have her moments of defiance and abrupt nature. I adore it, but I have been deeply set on fucking it out of her. Mayhaps I am not trying hard enough; you would know of rough fucking wouldn’t you, barbarian?” He grinned.

After a few moments of silence, the gladiator spoke. “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to come back from hell and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.” He recited Y/n’s eyes widened; she knew those words. “You understand Virgil?” Y/n asked, standing from the throne and walking up to stand beside Geta. “How do you know of such poetry?” She whispered before the gladiator could answer. Caracalla thanked Macrinus for providing some amusement, and he and Geta laughed aloud. 

“We are indeed entertained. My dove is still handling these amusement materials, but she will improve. And we all look forward to seeing your poet perform in the arena." Geta declared.

[ajourneyforjoy]

DON'T BE SHY, carmen berzatto

TAGS & WARNINGS → first time, first orgasm, spitting, hand job, p in v, needy soft dom carmy, praise kink :))

A/N → two carmy fics in two days? i don't know what's gotten into me honestly. i'm enjoying my little break from the mkverse, hope y'all are too!

WC → 1.3k

The first thing you notice is that he’s thick. you’re not sure he’ll fit, mind dizzied with the thought of him inside you. “Can i… can i touch?” you ask quietly, cheeks flooding with heat. “Wanna touch, please?” it comes out a breathless whisper, one that does things to Carmen.

“Fuck, yeah. yeah, baby, go ahead.” He settles his body against the headboard, one arm hooking around your waist to settle you closer. You kneel beside him and reach out a tentative hand. One finger traces up the underside of his cock and you notice how warm he is, velvet skin soft under your touch. You hear carmen suck in a gasp through his teeth and quickly pull your hand back, worried you’ve done something wrong. You tilt your head, observing the way his eyes go wide at the loss of contact. “N-no, baby, tha’s good,” he stammers, one hand reaching out to cup your cheek.

You find your lips pulling into a shy smile while your chest swells with pride at his words. “Really?” you ask, and giggle when another callused palm lands on your face, holding you between his hands and bringing you in for a kiss.

“Go on, baby. Y’don’t gotta be shy, m’kay?”

With his words of encouragement you lean back on your heels, reaching down to take his length in your hand once more. Your fingers barely wrap around all the way, you swallow thickly at the thought. You let your thumb trace over the sensitive head, collecting the arousal that pools there and relishing in the groan that tumbles from his lips.

“F-fuuuck, jus’ like that,” Carmen praises, voice rough and eyes watching you with a dark gaze. He ducks his head to muffle a moan while you build up a rhythm, mouthing at your neck. The pain of his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin is a welcome one, his tongue soothing the sting moments later. You shudder at the thought of the mark that will soon be blossoming in his wake. Proof of his devotion, claiming you as his. You squeeze him slightly, twisting your wrist in smooth strokes and his cock throbs in your hand. 

The feeling has a whine spilling from deep in your throat. The rush is dizzying, eyes focused on the way he throws his head back, tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Fuck,” you whisper, getting lost in it—the rhythm, the heat, the feeling—as one hand tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

“You gettin’ off on this?” he asks, and your cheeks heat with embarrassment at the fact he noticed. Noticed how your thighs squeezed together with every slow pull at him, noticed how you squirmed until one heel rested right against the soft cotton of your shorts. You shouldn’t feel so bashful with him, you know you shouldn’t, but everything is so new, you can’t help it. You nod, trying to duck your head to no avail as his grip on your jaw tightens. “Good. Good girl, gotta make sure you're nice an’ ready f’me.”

Carmen lands a peck on your lips, his hand leaving your face in favor of covering your own, leading you on in easy strokes. He guides you into a more steady rhythm, quick strokes that have him smirking, kissing at your cheek and murmuring, “atta girl. S’good, fuck, doin’ so good f’me.”

You whimper, babbling as you rest your head against his shoulder. “Carmy Carmy Carmy, need you, please,” you beg.

And how could carmen ever say no?

A kiss to your forehead has his golden saint anthony chain bumping against your chin, the metal cool to your heated skin. He’s flushed a deep red color, saccharine groans pooling from his parted lips while you stroke his cock in tandem. You steal one more kiss, then another, then two large hands frame your hips.

Carmen smiles at you, “want these off?”

“Please,” you breathe out, barely a whisper as you nod. You lift your hips to aid him before his strong arms cradle your body, laying you down beneath him. Carmen’s weight presses into you and you sigh happily, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Tongues tangle with desire, you feel his leaking tip prod at your entrance as he cages your body underneath him.

“Gonna go slow, okay baby? An’ it might hurt a li’l, but just squeeze my arm.” Carmen is smiling softly at you, handling you like you’re precious as he kisses your palm, then guides your hand to his bicep.

There’s one kiss, then two on your lips before he’s pressing the throbbing head inside you. “Oh—oh fuck, shiiiit—Carmy!” You tense up a bit, squeezing his arm and tossing your head back against the pillows.

“Shh, shh babygirl, I gotcha,” he hushes against your skin. The rough pad of his thumb slips down towards your clit as he spits, circling the sensitive nub to placate you. Your thighs are trembling already, but he needs to draw this out. One hand hooks under your thigh to bring it up over his shoulder. Needy lips hush your whines, whispering against you, “doin’ so good for me. Tight fuckin’ pussy, squeezin’ me s-so good.”

And he’s only halfway inside, your nails digging crescents into his skin as his girth just about splits you open. “Carmy! Carmy—please—oh fuck!” you sob out when he fills you to the hilt. Instead of his fingers it’s now the wiry hair at the base of his cock that’s rubbing deliciously against your clit.

One hand cups your cheek as Carmen kisses you soundly, “hey, ‘s okay baby. Shh, y’re doin’ so good.”

You preen under his praise, whining and hooking the leg that isn’t over his shoulder around his waist. You draw him in closer, filling you in a way that has whimpers spilling from your lips. Finally, he begins to move. Something begins to crest within you, and you find yourself barrelling towards a form of ecstasy you’ve never felt. “Carmy I’m—oh fuck—I can’t, I-I’ve… Carmy I’ve never…”

You can’t even think straight, not with his cock drilling into you at such a sweet but deep pace, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Surely your legs will wobble in the morning, you’ll look like a baby deer as you stumble towards the bathroom with a happy ache in your cunt. Nothing has ever felt this good, no sweet dream or late night caress of your own fingers, the truth is you’ve never had an orgasm. And Carmen is about to bring you there.

“You never cum b’fore, baby?” he asks, voice strained. He’s close too, your cunt squeezing him so fucking tight, like a vice. He’s been spacing out, keeping watch on your sweet face so he doesn’t bust right then and there.

A series of whines and little “ah, ah, ah,” noises tumble from your lips, his thumb reaching up to trace your lips. You taste your own arousal on him, it’s excruciatingly hot, knowing what he was just doing to you. You suck the digit into your mouth, tongue circling it sweetly before releasing with a pop. You shake your head shyly, as his lips come down to your chest. His tongue flicks over your nipple, sucking on your supple flesh just enough for a light bruise. 

“Come on honey,” Carmen murmurs against your chest, both arms wrapping you up in a bear hug as his drills into you. “Wanna feel’ya, please baby girl, cum f’me?”

You warble out a cry as he picks up his pace, face buried in your chest. “Carmy, yes! Right there baby, right—oh!” You startle as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing slow and gentle circles in stark contrast to the quick, mind numbing snaps of his hips.

He’s pleading against your skin now, “c’mon baby, need t’feel– need to feel y’u cum on my dick, baby please.”

That’s the push you need. Well, that and Carmen rising from his sopt buried in your tits to spit on your pussy, speeding up his thumb until you’re thrashing with pleasure. You cry, years streaming down your cheeks and a smile on your pretty lips as you come undone, pulsing around him. 

Carmen brings his hands to your hips, nuzzling at your sternum as he whimpers, “gonna cum baby, can’t—o-oh fuck—can’t fucking h-hold it.” You cradle his head, fingers tangling in his soft curls as a wrecked whine falls from you. Carmen lays a kiss over your heart, his dick twitching as his hips still, his load shooting deep within you.

Carmen lifts his head to look at you, one hand cupping your cheek befre whispering, “look so fuckin’ pretty, all wrecked f’me.” Your cbeeks flood with heat as he kisses you soundly, tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with your own. He tastes like arousal and something sweeter, and you whine as his tip grinds deeper inside you. Carmen’s thighs shake, but he refuses to pull out. “C’mere baby,” he murmurs, cradling you in his arms.

You find yourself situated in his lap, softening cock still snug inside you. “But ‘m all sticky,” you say with a petulant huff. Then, “Carmy, come on! I was serious,” when he chuckles at you.

“Just a few more minutes then we’ll shower, m’kay?” he asks quietly, kissing your cheeks. You nod in agreeance, snuggling your face into his shoulder. He tired you out, that was for certain. Your thighs ached, core tight and lungs heaving. Feeling content and sated, you collapse onto Carmen with a soft sigh.

© gallaghersgal, 2024. div. © cafekitsune, saradika

THX 4 READING → once again dedicated to @carmenberzattosgf cause she's been waiting for this one!

[ajourneyforjoy]

[ajourneyforjoy]

thinking about dad Carmy feeling baby kick for the first time

A large, inked hand rested just above your navel as Carmy took one of his breaks before the dinner rush. He hated that you insisted on working during your pregnancy, so he made you take breaks in the office, where he now took his breaks too.

“My kid fuckin’ hates me,” Carmy huffed, frowning.

“He doesn’t hate you, he’s just shy,” you answered. You really felt for him, though. Your baby boy had only started kicking a couple of days ago and somehow managed to kick for everyone except your husband.

“Richie felt him kick before me,” he exclaimed. Carmy was right—his own son had yet to kick for his dad.

“Carm, he’ll kick when he’s ready,” you breathed, turning to give him a soft kiss.

As if on cue, the chef felt a subtle jab beneath his palm. “Was that?” he began, blue eyes widening at the soft contact. All you could do was nod as his hand roamed over your belly.

“Holy shit,” Carmy breathed, feeling another sharp kick against his hand. He let out a laugh you’d only heard a handful of times. It was the kind of laugh that was light and full of pure joy—something he didn’t get to experience enough.

“See? He was just waitin’ for the right moment,” you smiled.

“Jus’ like your Ma, making me work for it, huh?” he spoke to your bump.

You rolled your eyes, ruffling his hair at that very true accusation. “C’mon, we should get back. You’ll have all the time in the world tonight to talk to him later.”

The chef followed you out of the office, his content smile never leaving his face during the rush.

[ajourneyforjoy]

articulate

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

summary: Feyd realises how much he misses his wife despite seeing her everyday || warnings: grovelling?, guilt, violence, anger || word count: || masterlist

read the precursor to this: voiceless

REQUEST: would you be able to write a part two to voiceless, where feyd becomes more interested in spending time and being seen with his wife, even around others while she grows more content without him (maybe finding other people/friends for company). kinda like a “falling in love too late” kinda thing? thanks sm ❤️

You had withdrawn from your husband, done the bare minimum that was expected of you. It was what was expected of you, and the members of Harkonnen High Society were glad to see you taking your proper place. It seemed the only person not enjoying your new role was you. Even your husband was far more contented by having his days without bother and to not be questioned everytime he did anything.

But as time wore on, it started as the little things Feyd noticed he now lacked: the small glances you shared with him across the table, a squeeze of his hand before he stood, a gentle kiss to greet him. Now he ate alone, with you eating in your own chambers. You greeted him in the morning with a cold nod, no words exchanged.

He wondered what you did with your days, supposing you now lived a very lonely existence. He supposed that was the life of all noble woman, for that was the tradition of Geidi Prime and House Harkonnen, their women were nothing more than grabs for power and means to an heir.

But the more he thought, the more he doubted his family’s tradition. His familial tradition was to murder one another, why should he follow a tradition that would have his son murder you once he came of age. Perhaps tradition needed changing, perhaps he would pay you a visit, invite you to join his some days. Then again, maybe that was guilt. And Feyd-Rautha didn’t feel guilt, for anything or anyone.

“Wife!” His voice echoed as he walked into your shared chambers one evening. You were sat reading a book and glanced up as he entered.

“Yes husband?” You replied to him, placing your book down and moving to stand.

“I want to accompany me tomorrow.”

His words sent a wave of confusion through you. There were no noble visits scheduled in the coming days, nothing that would require you by his side. “Accompany you? May I ask where?”

“To my duties.” Feyd said it like it was obvious. “I have been neglecting my duty to you. Is it an offence for a husband to require his wife’s company?”

The words were said without true care behind the words and you felt your stomach twist as you reached for your book once more. “I regret to inform you that I have engagements tomorrow that I must attend to.”

“Cancel them.”

You look up at his incredulously. “Excuse me? I cannot simply cancel my plans on a moments notice because of your whim.”

Feyd bit back his anger at your rejection, ignoring the sting of pain that sat at his heart. “Very well. When do your engagements cease?”

“I am a busy woman, I barely spend a day alone nowadays. Forgive me for not keeping my schedule free and spend my time wallowing in loneliness. I can free up the day after tomorrow. Is that satisfactory for you Na-Baron?”

His wife’s coolness towards him made him doubt his intentions in the first place. Finally, he nodded solemnly, turned on his heel and exited the chamber.

Unknown to Feyd, his wife had been finding her entertainment and pleasure in other ways, finding any way to spend a day with others. It had began with her handmaiden, just a few hours helped a friendship blossom that then extended to her friends within the servants. They had created a bond that could not be broken, a space where they were not servants and she was not Na-Baroness.

Many of the servants were slaves from off-world, much how she was a slave to her husband and had been ripped from her own home and her own family to join his. There was a solace in their space she knew Feyd would not understand.

True to her word, she joined Feyd days later, sat in her seat at the breakfast table, and followed three steps behind as she did in the beginning. But there was no longing threaded into every move she made. She did not long for his love anymore, there was not a begging for attention and affection. You didn’t go out of your way to squeeze his hand or press a kiss to his cheek.

Feyd had been expecting your affection. And yet you showed him none. He was your husband but he would not be your lover.

He wished he could be, an affection from you only to him. He wanted the devotion of his wife the same way he wanted air to breathe but you would not be his air. You had found a contented life on Geidi Prime that did not involve bending to your husbands will and crawling at his feet for his love. You would perform your marital duty and spend your days in your chambers or in hidden rooms with your friends where your duty would escape you and your title would be worth nothing.

[ajourneyforjoy]

[ajourneyforjoy]

✮ Make a wish ✭