#.....ii-im sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 16 days ago

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HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK

pairing: werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader word count: 11.1 k summary: she's a monster, and you're essentially a monster hunter. it shouldn't work, but it does. (or — you and vi decide to escape the narrative together) warnings: ooh various mentions of fighting + blood + injuries ranging from mild to life-threatening; reader and vi both smoke + consume alcohol; rough sex (fingering [vi receiving], oral [reader receiving], tribbing, biting, spitting ++ aftercare); 18+ ! vibes are basically buffy the vampire slayer with chaotic lesbians loving each other so much it consumes them both a/n: i think i've been watching too much buffy and fantasizing about werewolf!vi for like,, too long,, and this unholy mess is the result. this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for a WHILE but tonight is the wolf moon so it felt right to post now, i really hope y'all enjoy 🖤 i'll include credit for each subtitle in the tags too <33

♪: "bullet with butterfly wings" by the smashing pumpkins; "dig me out" by sleater-kinney; "taste my despair" by lesbian bed death; "i wanna be your dog" by joan jett; "fantastic" by king princess

i. sorry about the blood in your mouth

vi wakes up with a terrible motherfucking headache, which isn’t anything new.

she doesn’t know where she is — that isn’t particularly something new, either — but what is new is the tongue slobbering all over her face. when she opens her eyes, vi sees a 50-pound black dog standing over her.

“whoa!” vi sits up abruptly, but the dog only gets more excited and jumps up on the couch, caging her in.

“sorry. she usually isn’t so enthusiastic about company.”

the voice is coming from the other side of the room, where you’re sitting on the edge of the mattress closest to the window. there’s a cigarette in your hand, and each time you exhale, you point your chin accordingly so the smoke travels outside. a crisp breeze trickles in.

“morning, killer.”

vi swallows the heart that has jumped into her throat, takes a deep breath to steady her breathing. fuck, she literally just moved here and might already need to leave. she tries to remember if something bad happened last night.

it wasn’t the full moon, was it? no, that shouldn’t be for another few weeks. but then why are you calling her a —

“killer?” she asks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

she stares at you, eyes trailing your injured jawline as she waits for you to respond. you do look vaguely, achingly familiar. whatever happened last night, you were probably part of it.

“well, you’ve got a killer right hook,” you quip. you snuff out your cigarette and twist around to fully face vi. “and i’m pretty sure you killed my reputation as a pit fighting champion. i was undefeated before you.”

fresh blood emerges from your split lip as you speak, and you’re quick to swipe it away with your tongue.

oh. right.

your tank top is torn at the bottom, just cropped enough that vi can see the imprint of her fist on your lower ribs. she now remembers the feeling of yours on the side of her face, and has a bloody, crusted eyebrow, painfully tender cheekbone, and the outline of your ring seared onto her skin forever to prove it.

what kind of pitfighter wears pure silver?

vi takes note of her surroundings to get a better sense of who she’s up against: the place is small, dingy, but has a good amount of light. you’ve got a broken mirror, old books stacked in the corner, and an open cupboard filled with clothing and various weapons, mostly daggers and some wooden stakes. an intricate glass cross dangles from the centre of the window, filtering through multicolored light. there are a bunch of dried plants next to a mortar and pestle on the sill below — nightshade, juniper, wolfsbane. on the tiny kitchen counter is a silver vase filled with more wilted flowers.

even from far away, vi can hear your heartbeat — strong, steady — as you shuffle around and gather some things. she inhales your scent. she remembers that she was slightly taken aback, in the pit when she had you pinned to the mat, that under the musk of sweat and metallic tang of blood, vi sensed something else, something delicate and floral.

your whole apartment smells overwhelmingly of dried roses and decaying fruit, too, sweet and earthy.

“did you bring me here for round two?”

“no.” you let out a short, breathy laugh. “i brought you here so that some creep wouldn’t take advantage of you. you were pretty out of it.”

“so you’re — what an enforcer?”

“no fucking way,” you declare, and vi can practically feel rage coursing through you, your heart pumping with reignited vigor. “like an enforcer would care enough to actually help the undercity,” you grumble.

you shake your head and sit down at the edge of the couch, shooing your dog away so you can drop first aid supplies in her place. she settles on the floor at your feet.

you offer vi a somewhat bruised apple. when she hesitates, you push it into her hand.

“this isn’t a fairytale,” you say, hands busy soaking a cloth in some alcohol. “i’m not trying to poison you,” you add as if reading her mind.

“there…there are some good enforcers, though,” vi tries, trained to have such platitudes at the ready.

you roll your eyes. “if there are, i haven’t met them.”

vi’s not sure she believes what she had said, either. she feels her side ache, a phantom bruise from when caitlyn slammed her rifle into the very injury she had once helped heal.

what started as you’re not like the rest of those animals. you’re one of the good ones. became you’re all the same. it’s their blood in your veins. as soon as things went downhill.

vi bites her lip to prevent herself from wincing, and it isn’t because you’ve pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth to the cut on her nose. her sharp nails break through the skin of the apple, digging into its soft flesh until juice is running down her wrist.

“eat,” you insist, but you’re focused on removing as much dirt and dried blood from her face as you can, brows furrowed in concentration. “you ruined my reputation, so you better keep up your strength if you wanna keep yours.”

“so, you’re helping the enemy,” vi, still wary of you, wonders.

your frown softens. you place a bandage on the bridge of her nose before saying:

“you’re not my enemy.”

maybe it was the sincerity of your words, or the unconditional care you’re showing her, or the fact that it’s been so long since someone has touched vi so tenderly, but she decides in that moment to trust you, whoever you are.

she takes a bite of the apple, the sweetness invading her mouth, as you lean over to search for something else in the first aid kit, mumbling to yourself about how the wound is deeper than you thought.

“you should really be more careful,” you chide. “are you a topsider?”

vi scoffs through a mouthful of fruit. “i’m from the lanes.”

“yeah, well this neighborhood is a different level of bad,” you tell her.

“i can hold my own — ouch.”

you start stitching up the cut on her eyebrow, one hand keeping her head steady. her cheek pulses against you as she chews, your skin calming and cool.

“when you’re sober, maybe.”

“you didn’t have to help me,” vi grunts. “most people would’ve gone about their business.”

“i was going about my business. i was out on patrol; vampires never sleep, you know.”

you say it so casually, almost too casually, that vi wonders if she misheard you.

“vampires?”

you raise an eyebrow at vi. “there’s a high concentration of them around here, near the hellmouth. a lot of monsters, actually —”

vi hopes you don’t notice how she shudders at the word monsters.

“ — some of whom can and will eat you alive if they get the chance,” you deadpan. “that’s kinda what i’m here for.”

“so….what are you, exactly?”

you don’t say anything for a few seconds, your expression unreadable while you finish vi’s stitches, but your heart thumps so forcefully against your ribcage, vi almost thinks she’s seconds away from hearing the bones there crack. you start gnawing at your bottom lip, let the blood gather until it starts to trickle down towards your chin. vi swipes it away with her thumb, which she then wipes against her bandaged palm.

you inhale slowly, then exhale. your heart rate eases; still a bit higher than most people’s, but to what seems to be normal for you.

“the correct term is slayer,” you finally say, watching vi carefully for her reaction.

vi isn’t quite sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good for someone like her. she’s wondering if she should make a run for it when you drop your voice an octave or two and add:

“the chosen one standing against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness.” you clear your throat. “if you were wondering.” you break out into a cheeky grin, teeth sparkling in the late morning sun.

“you’re joking?”

“most days, i wish i was. that’s the official tagline, actually.” your smile shrinks into a sigh. “i’m the slayer. i won’t bore you with all the details, but me saving you last night? that’s kinda just what i do. my destiny, so to speak.”

“do you normally take the people you save home?”

you blink away, wipe your hands half-heartedly on the white tank top you’re wearing, smearing vi’s mess of crimson and grime.

“no,” you admit.

vi narrows her eyes at you, shifts her body so there’s at least more space between you before she figures out what the hell to do. it’s possible that you’re lying but —

vi puffs out her chest. “why are you being so nice to me?”

you already have her blood on your body, and vice versa, and not just because you’d been fighting each other. it’s not quite trust, but it feels like something close. something you’re willing to share without even knowing much about the other.

an unspoken question: do you know what i really am?

because if you did, vi’s sure you wouldn’t be so….friendly towards her. so gentle.

“honestly?” you gesture towards the dog who’s busy nuzzling into vi’s leg. “fangs kinda hates everyone but she seems to like you.”

her jaw drops. “you decided to be my guardian angel because your dog likes me?”

“i already had a good feeling about you before.” you shrug. “i took it as a good omen, i guess.”

“i’m not sure you should,” vi advises.

you’re looking out for her, so she should look out for you. it’s better, for everyone, that vi be left alone.

she’s been good, had to learn how to be, in order to survive; that doesn’t mean she’s innocent.

on the bad days, she can’t control her anger. on the worst days, she can’t contain her hunger.

“okay, well, maybe i’ve got a thing for strays,” you reach your hand down, run it through fangs’ thick black fur. your lips curl upwards as you look at vi, all bright-eyed and beautiful, sunlight itself emanating from your smile.

something sparks in her chest that she thought would never light again. something that, like her, could be dangerous if it’s not controlled.

vi decides it’s probably about time that she left, though it's difficult to tear herself from your warmth.

“so, will i see you in the pit again?” she still can’t help but ask as you accompany her to the door.

“probably, yeah.” you lean against the doorframe, and vi is about to turn the knob when you add: “but, that pub you passed outside of? the bronze? maybe we can, uh, get a drink there, afterwards sometime.”

your heart skips a beat or two as you anxiously wait for vi to say something. her entire body heats up when she realizes what’s going on.

you were….asking her out.

the good thing is that then there’s no way you actually know what vi is because, well, would this even be allowed in your line of work?

“you promise you’re not just playing the long game? gaining my trust and then stabbing me in the back?”

you give her a playful but sincere smile and make a small ‘x’ on the left side of your upper chest. “cross my heart.”

“guess i’ll will call you my guardian angel,” she muses, her chest glowing. “i’m vi, by the way.”

you grin, then formally introduce yourself. you reach out your hand. vi holds it, delicately, even though your grip is firm.

“one more thing, though — keep the whole me being the slayer thing under wraps? it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“why’d you tell me, then?” vi wonders, raising an eyebrow.

you tilt your head, examining her. “like i said — i had a good feeling about you. slayers are meant to have good instincts, so i decided to trust mine.”

vi takes a deep breath, removes her hand from yours, and glances at you once more with a small smile. she promises not to tell a soul.

(she, of all people, knows that there are far worse secrets to keep.)

“thank you,” vi adds. “for saving me.”

she hears fangs scratching at the door from inside the apartment after she’s gone, along with the deep rumble of your voice telling fangs not to worry, our new friend will visit again soon, like you’re so sure vi will be back.

with the way you already have her sharp edges softening, her heart fluttering in her chest, vi probably will be.

except —

vi’s not quite human, hasn’t been since she started bleeding between her legs at 13, since her mother told her that this was a blessing passed down to eldest daughters in their family, no matter how many people will try to convince her it’s a curse.

it would be a few months later that her mother would be killed because of said blessing.

really, it’s more nightmare.

because vi knows what it’s like to pick ripped flesh from between her teeth, to have the metallic sweetness of blood linger on her tongue and throat-tearing screams ringing in her ears.

meanwhile, you — with your good instincts, strong fists and stronger heart —

it’s your destiny to end those nightmares.

you’re the thing that monsters like her are supposed to have nightmares about.

ii. you’re an angel / i’m a dog

there’s an intimacy to knowing how someone fights.

vi fights with bared teeth and burning rage, knuckles cracking against bone, elbows bruising skin without any remorse. her own wounds are half-hazardly hidden behind layers of gauze, her chest wrapped tightly to keep her heart from bleeding out. she doesn’t bother to clean the dirt underneath her nails, to wipe the blood from her upper lip after an opponent breaks her nose, to wash her face clean before smearing on more dark paint until all she sees in the mirror is a shadow of her former self.

you, on the other hand: you’re precise and quick in how you defeat your opponents, maybe even a bit bored. vi figures that when you fight monsters for a living, it must be fairly dull, knocking out some guy with a single, well placed uppercut, even if he is twice your size. your bandages are always fresh, and you always make vi a little dizzy when she catches a whiff of rose. you walk past her with a playful grin, easily replaced by the glint of your razor-sharp canines as you defeat another opponent in the arena. she listens as your heartbeat barely increases a beat, despite the inevitable adrenaline of battle.

you might not be as feral as her, but vi thinks you’re just as dangerous. she likes it, admires that your violence is always calculated rather than all-consuming.

she does wonder if you’d ever let anything consume you, curious to know what’s hiding under your armor.

so, a few days after she first woke up in your apartment, vi builds up the courage to suggest:

"whoever wins the most fights tonight picks up the tab for the bar."

your face brightens the dim, dirty sidelines of the pit as you’re both waiting for your turn, when you answer:

"you're on, killer."

later that night, both of your bodies are aching as vi tries to examine your injuries once you’re both done for the day, away from the roar of the crowd.

"guess i'll be picking up the tab," you smile, your lip splitting open even more, just like the morning after her knuckles first kissed your skin.

(she wants to kiss this wound closed, too, press her lips to your bloody ones, if you’d be willing to give her a taste.)

"i'll still take care of it, angel,” vi soothes. she rummages around the tiny locker room, a single light bulb flickering above you. finally, she finds a small first aid kit — poorly stocked, but good enough for now. “lemme take care of you first."

you must understand what vi’s implying, because your heart starts racing faster.

it’s a routine that becomes vi’s guiding light — the two of you patching each other up after a rough day (and, regardless of the fact that you’re both strong, it’s always a rough day). you share a drink at the bronze, and then you’re off slaying vampires or whatever other nightmares will keep you awake and fighting every night.

then, it’s another full moon, and the routine changes.

she’s able to prevent herself from turning even in the worst of circumstances, but she doesn’t want to risk any accidents, knowing that you’re out there on the prowl. vi is confident that you’d never hurt, let alone kill her, but that’s counting on you being able to recognize her.

vi locks herself in the basement of the bronze. spike, the bartender, let her crash in a storage closet, temporarily, no questions asked and a promise to keep it a secret.

she emerges from her isolation after three days, eyes stinging from the harsh morning sun. her first instinct is to head underground, search for you. she makes one stop beforehand, drops something off in the locker room before she’s ushered into the arena without any more preamble.

the show must go on, and you’re already center stage.

the lanky woman you must’ve just knocked unconscious is being dragged away. you spit out what looks like a combination of blood and saliva, and crack your neck before resuming a fighting stance, feet squared, bruised knuckles at the ready.

you falter when you see that it’s vi who’s your next opponent. vi picks up the increased pace of your heart, the muscle worrying against your chest.

you’ve had this conversation, though — about what would happen if you were ever up against each other again in the ring — and you both agreed: once the bell rings, the fight starts, because you both need the money to survive.

nothing personal. winner buys two rounds of drinks at the bronze. three, if there were some nasty hits involved.

you hadn’t needed to worry about any of that until now.

the bell rings, and vi waits for you to make the first move, like you tend to do.

but, you don’t.

the first time you were up against each other, vi dodged your attack and delivered a jab hard enough to make you bleed. you had looked at her with wide eyes, fingers touching your bottom lip and becoming stained with red as the crowd roared. you adjusted your posture with a newfound interest, and a glimmer of what vi can only describe as hunger.

this time, you drop your stance like you’ve already lost the fight. you ignore the shouts and groans from the crowd as you walk away.

….

vi finds you in the locker room — and you’re not alone.

“there a problem here?” vi asks, glaring at the guy you seem to be arguing with.

“it’s fine,” you answer coolly. still, vi sits on the bench nearest to the door, waits for you like a patient dog.

“fine?” the guy barks a laugh. he’s wearing topside clothes. an enforcer, no less. “you made me look like a fool.”

you scoff. “i doubt that’s hard to do.”

the guy suddenly reaches forward and snatches your arm. vi feels rage surge through her when his nails indent your skin. you must sense it, because your eyes lock with hers in a silent command not to do anything, not just yet.

“i don’t think you understand, bitch,” he seethes, face a pissed off shade of red. “i’m out more money than you’ll ever see in your entire pathetic life.”

“i’m sure you’ll manage.”

vi follows your gaze as it drops to his belt. he’s got his badge, a standard issue pistol, and a pouch full of gold coins.

“clearly i bet on the wrong fucking dog.”

you force a smile. “better luck next time, officer.”

you finally rip your arm out of his grip, push him away abruptly, effectively manoeuvring him to stumble between where you’re standing, and vi’s waiting. you gesture towards vi with a smirk, a taunting dare for this enforcer to challenge two of the undercity’s best fighters.

vi gets up just as he’s walking out, grumbling an incoherent string of swears. she not-so-subtly knocks into his shoulder and hip, her nimble fingers still quick.

“guess we can get dinner with our drinks, now,” she quips with a toothy grin. vi tosses you the pouch, but you don’t seem too thrilled, even as you catch it effortlessly.

“you can’t just disappear like that, vi.” your voice sharp, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i didn’t mean to,” vi lies, walking over to open your shared locker. she pulls out a bouquet of roses, the same deep red as dried blood.

vi pouts, gives you her best puppy dog eyes. “i’m sorry, angel.”

the only reaction she gages from you is a quickening heartbeat at the nickname, your face still hard to crack marble.

“this is serious, vi.”

“i know! but —”

“do you know what’s out there? i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful,” you rush, walking over to her and talking with your hands. “i looked everywhere for you, and….and you just left without saying anything. i thought…i thought you’d been killed —”

your blood roars in vi’s ears, your pulse close to out of control, and vi doesn’t know what else to do except bring you into her arms in an attempt to calm you down.

“i’m okay, angel. i’m here. i’m right here,” vi mumbles against your shoulder, inhaling sweat and roses.

your heart starts beating steady against her own as you exhale.

“i was safe, i promise. i was in the supply close at the bronze.”

“are you kidding?” you guffaw, unravelling yourself from vi’s body. “that basement is a hellhole.”

vi shrugs. “it does the trick.”

you chuckle dryly, shaking your head.

“well, i guess now that i lost one of my best sponsors, fangs and i might have to move in there with you,” you deadpan.

you reach around vi to pull a jacket from the locker, slipping on worn leather that vi realizes is hers. you take the flowers from her with a small thank you, and vi adjusts the collar of her jacket on you, her warm fingers subtly grazing your pulsepoint. vi can’t help the possessiveness that sparks in her abdomen: you, wearing her clothes; you, heart beating rapidly for her.

“well…what if….i moved in with you?” deep down, she knows it’s not an ideal situation, but vi reasons: “we can pool our money together for rent. besides, what’s another stray in your home?”

you bite your bottom lip as you mull over the offer.

“well, you did buy me flowers, ask me out to dinner….seems like the logical next step.”

“so….”

vi wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you finally crack a smile.

it was only been three days apart and vi already felt deprived of the sunlight of your smile.

“okay, killer. as long as you don’t make a habit of disappearing on me.”

….

on paper, there might be reasons why you and vi, together, shouldn’t work, but the simple truth is that you do.

you still spend your afternoons engulfed in the darkness of the underground arena, patch each other up at the end of the day, share drinks at the bronze before parting ways.

now, in the mornings, you spend a few hours training together, moving furniture around so there’s enough space to spar. you try not to get distracted by how hot her skin is every time it brushes against yours, how solid her thigh is between your legs when she’s adjusting your stance, how a shattered moan emerges from her lips as you pin her to the floor after showing her a new technique to catch an opponent off-guard.

the nights are your favourite, though. like fangs, vi is able to fall asleep anywhere in the apartment, and is usually passed out by the time you’re off the clock from slayer duty. after the first few nights, you insist that vi sleep on the bed, and she begrudgingly agrees. now, you get home just before dawn, bone-tired, to find her belly up, drooling and snoring on top of the dilapidated mattress. the moonlight illuminates all the curves and shadows of her sculpted body, her skin shimmering with sweat because her body runs warm, even on the coldest nights. you can see the trail of pink hair disappear beneath her black underwear, while her dyed-black hair is a tangled mess you’re tempted to tug at, curious to see if she’d moan again for you. vi sleeps shirtless, nipples winking at you like two fallen stars with those titanium rods pierced through.

gods, you try not to drool when you slip under the covers and fall asleep dreaming of her, all the places you would sink your teeth into, all the places you wish she would do the same.

(meanwhile, vi tries to ignore the sound of your whimpers, the quick tempo of your heartbeat, and the overwhelming musk of desire between your legs as you sleep next to her, because she’s so sure that you would never dream of her.)

these fantasies of vi, all her warmth, all her chaos, gnaw at you from the inside out. it’s an overwhelming sense of hunger, but with vi, you also feel something else, something gentler and more fragile building between you.

it’s really the little things.

like, vi brings you fresh roses every week, and even though you keep telling her to save her winnings for better things, she tells you that pretty girls like you are worth it, angel. they should teach you that in slayer school.

she winks, makes you flustered, then has the audacity to blush when you leave her the ripest apples because you know that she likes them a bit sweeter.

sometimes you open the window as you share a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the starlit twilight as you exchange stories about your pasts, about the people you’ve loved and lost. she’s the first person you confide in about how weighed down you feel by the responsibility of being the slayer, a burden that’s cost you many loved ones, and the uncertainty of whether what you’re destined to do is truly what is good for the world. she tells you about her time in prison, the lonely nights lamenting the death of her father and brothers, but keeping her strength because she hoped to one day make it back to a sister she just ended up losing, anyways.

other times, the two of you play a game. you imagine that you’re elsewhere, that there are no such things as monsters, no reason to have to battle and bruise yourselves just to survive. instead, you have a life and a family and a home together, filled with luxurious parties, decadent dinner tables, and endless sunny days.

you comfort her and she comforts you through the dark, morbid world you both have been fighting against, alone, for so long.

it works. it works really well.

except — you’ve been the slayer long enough to know that nothing this good will last. it's nauseating — dangerous, even — this desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut, twisting and taunting you with what can never be.

you’re just waiting for the next nightmare to reveal itself.

….

vi’s hair has started to fade back to pink, so she asks you to re-dye it.

it’s easy to forget that she sits in a rickety chair in your decrepit but well-loved apartment because all she can think about is your body behind hers, solid and steady. your cool fingers work the dye through her hair, your nails scrape against her scalp, and you’re humming as fangs snores peacefully at her feet. she’s died and gone to heaven, pure bliss glowing in her chest and releasing through her throat as a deep rumble.

she closes her eyes and indulges in a little daydreaming:

just you and your sunburst smile and your soft, rose-petal skin.

there’s a firm knock that rustles vi out of her reverie, and you tell her to go rinse out her hair while you answer it.

she can hear you talking with someone through the rush of hot water. she tries not to eavesdrop, but…it’s difficult, especially once she hears:

“it’ll be fine. silver bullets usually do the trick,” you say, without much enthusiasm. vi bites back her hurt, keeps rinsing her hair, waiting for the water to run clear instead of sludge gray.

you’re not talking about her.

“i’m not sure you understand the severity of the situation,” a voice with a thick british accent replies. “i’ve been on the council for fifty years — five times longer than you’ve been the slayer — and i’ve never seen something quite this vicious.”

“my guess is you don’t get out in the field much,” you quip.

whoever you’re talking to clearly is not amused, ignoring your backhanded comment and instead offering the details of what has been witnessed in the past few days. it’s so gruesome and gory that vi herself is shivering as she turns off the shower, towels off, and gets dressed.

when vi opens the door, she almost trips over fangs, who’d fallen asleep just outside. she gets up immediately as vi steps out, her tail wagging. the owner of the stern voice — a man wearing a very pristine looking tweed suit — is handing you a crossbow, a bunch of silver-tipped arrows already splayed on the table. you notice vi first as your grip on the weapon tightens, and the man’s gaze follows.

“you know there’s a rule about slayers keeping….pets,” the man says, turning his nose up at vi and fangs from where they’re still standing at the doorway of the bathroom.

you glance back at the pair, jaw clenched, and then focus back on your unwanted guest.

“mr. travers, thank you for the heads up, but i believe it’s time for you to leave,” you clip, dropping the crossbow on the table.

“actually, i believe that we have much more to discuss, namely how you’ve allowed this mutt into your home —”

“get the fuck out of our apartment,” you practically growl. you walk towards him menacingly until his back is millimeters away from the door. “you of all people know what i can do.”

“you will be punished for this…this transgression,” travers warns, but there’s an unmistakable tremble in his voice.

you laugh in a way vi can barely recognize, sharp and bitter.

“fine. i’m no stranger to dealing with the council’s bullshit.” you open the door, flash an exaggerated, sickly sweet smile. “have a nice day.”

“i hope this animal is worth it,” travers huffs.

“she’s worth it,” you reply without hesitation before you slam the door on his ass, so hard that the walls shake, the vase in the kitchen toppling over and cracking on the counter.

vi’s seen you fight in the pit — hell, she’s been on the receiving end of some of your wicked moves — but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen you this angry.

your chest is heaving as you pace back and forth.

“so that sounds….bad,” vi remarks, heading over to the kitchen counter to gather the broken shards of pottery.

you freeze. “how much did you hear?”

vi just shrugs. “just that there’s something bad out there —”

“don’t worry about it,” you say with a forced smile. you walk over and push some damp hair away from vi’s eyes. “let’s take fangs for a walk before we leave, yeah? while it’s still light out.”

there are whispers throughout the next few days leading up to the full moon. the crowd at the arena starts to thin, most topsiders too scared to journey underground with rumors of a bloodthirsty monster on the loose.

you’re not sleeping anymore, still fighting during the day to a half-empty arena, out on patrol at night, your rosy scent fading from the bedsheets with each passing night. even if you get home before dawn, you spend your time scouring through books and scribbling into your notebook, mumbling to yourself theories about where and how you can stop this thing. vi tries to get you to take a break, or at least eat instead of burning through shimmer-laced cigarettes to keep yourself awake.

the best vi can do is convince you to sit down on the couch with her and share a snack. you settle for doing some research, flip through yellowed pages as you take a bite of an apple, juice dripping down your chin.

vi reaches her finger out, puts it in her mouth to suck off the juice, moaning around the salty-sweet taste of your skin. you let out a pleased hum, turning your attention back to your research, but angling your body to invite her closer. vi nuzzles into your side, puts her head on your lap, twitches in pleasure as you reach down to scratch behind her ear.

she looks up at you, and you finally give her a real smile — the first ray of sun after a pitch dark night.

a slice of paradise vi was certain she’d never find.

….

the night of the full moon is when all hell breaks loose.

vi tries — she begs you not to go out there, sensing that tonight, of all nights, it will be at its strongest. but you, too headstrong and too righteous for your own good, just won’t listen.

“this thing has killed eleven people in less than a week. i don’t care what phase of the moon it is — i’m ending this, tonight.”

“why does it have to be you? that thing is stronger than anything you’ve ever fought!”

“which is why i’ve been preparing,” you snap.

“can’t you – can’t you just call the fucking council, or something, tell them to deal with it?”

fangs is right there with vi, scrambling and whining as you’re meticulously arming yourself with as many weapons you can carry.

you scoff, notching a few silver blades to your belt. “it’s not their responsibility, it’s mine. where the fuck — i can’t go out only in this tank top, it’s fucking freezing — ”

vi swallows the lump in her throat.

“you’re gonna die if you go out there alone.”

“yeah, well, i’ve accepted my fate a long time ago,” you say stoically.

you’re fairly well supplied at this point; if vi was the monster you were hunting, she’d be running scared from a glance alone. you’re only half paying attention to vi’s pleas, and sigh in relief when you find what you’d been looking for.

“please, angel, don’t —”

“i was literally born for this, violet. if i don’t go out and stop this thing from killing more people, then my life is worth nothing.”

“you make me happy!” she shouts desperately, forcing you to pause as you slip on her jacket. “that’s worth something, isn’t it?”

a tense silence follows.

you freeze for a few moments, avoiding vi’s gaze. then, you walk over to the cabinet, grabbing something so quickly vi can’t pinpoint what it is and stuffing it in your back pocket. you clench and unclench your left fist, a tick of yours that vi recognizes from the arena.

you’re planning your next move.

in a daze, you pick up the crossbow, but you hesitate once more —

“fuck,” you exhale before letting the weapon clatter to the ground and rushing over to crash your lips against vi’s.

you’re kissing and kissing, teeth and tongue and a pleasure so guilty, vi’s sure she’ll be damned for all eternity. vi’s lungs are burning when she pulls away first.

“wait. you should know that i’m —”

“i still have to go,” you interrupt, voice determined and sharp, cutting right through to vi’s heart.

there’s a fear curling up her throat as you watch her, your eyes the darkest she’s ever seen them.

“then let me – i mean, i can help —”

you kiss her again. you taste so heavenly, better than she ever dreamed of, that vi doesn’t even care that it’s probably just to shut her up.

she almost doesn’t notice that you’ve cornered her between the kitchen counter and the front door, until she hears a distinct click, feels something heavy and burning against her wrists.

you pull away first this time, eyes glazed over as you back away to make space between you and what you’ve done:

vi, handcuffed to the exposed heating pipe. the cuffs are stronger than any vi has ever been bound by. must be made of real silver. the metal sears into her skin, down to the bone, as she struggles against them, screaming to the point of howling, watching as you pick up the crossbow and a handful of silver tipped arrows as a final hail mary.

“no!” she cries. the pipe you’d cuffed her to rattles, but it doesn’t give. “please, please don’t —”

“i’m…i’m really sorry,” you mumble, quickly wiping away a tear. vi flinches when you try to touch her cheek; she bares her teeth at you like a rabid beast, but you don’t give her the courtesy of a reaction.

“why are you doing this?” she growls.

“because….you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

you take a deep breath. you look at fangs, affectionately pat her head as she bows her head and whines, tail between her legs. “bring her the key once it’s morning,” you instruct. your eyes slide over to vi’s, for what she fears might be the last time. “take care of each other.”

with that, you’re out the door.

vi isn’t sure how much time passes. her wrists sting, her muscles ache, but still, she keeps going. she doesn’t care how, but she’s not letting you die tonight.

a sliver of moonlight shines through the window. something claws at her ribcage.

you’re not dying tonight.

and vi’s been hungry for too long.

iii. all my devotion turns violent

the streets are empty, deserted due to fear and damp from the cold evening rain.

you search through the shadows, around every corner, play with one of your daggers just to pass the time, the blade weaving between your expert fingers.

all you can really think about, though, is vi, and how scared she was to lose you, and how terribly you must have hurt her —

fuck.

you accidentally sliced through your palm, your blood emerging as thick, black tar in the darkness. you sigh and kneel down in the alleyway, dropping your heaviest weapon so you can use your uninjured hand to wrap the other.

something pounces on you before you can stop the bleeding. the crossbow — the weapon that was supposed to deliver a fatal blow — is now out of reach.

you jab one of your silver blades into the creature’s side; he howls, but you manage to kick him away long enough to get to your feet, get a better sense of what you’re fighting. you’ve never seen anything like it before: a hulking mass roughly five times your size, wolf-like features, and chemical machinery woven throughout his body, a neon green liquid pumping through glass tubes.

the beast growls at you, lunges forward once again; you jump out of his path, roll away so run, fast, and grab the crossbow. you quickly notch a silver tipped arrow, aim at his heart; you hold your breath and fire without hesitation. then another, and another, just to be safe.

your stomach turns as you watch the creature remove the arrows as if they were nothing but splinters. he lets out a roar that shakes the earth. you’ve made him angrier.

you drop the crossbow, deciding instead to propel yourself off the wall, leap onto the beast’s shoulders and stab the glass tubes with all the force you can muster. green liquid gushes out, and the beast howls in pain, but doesn’t give up. with sharp claws, he throws you to the ground, and you shriek as he tears through the skin of your ribs.

you’re very suddenly dizzy, bleeding out on the cobblestones, yet continue to struggle with whatever strength still courses through your veins. the beast looms over you, foaming at the mouth, and your vision is getting fuzzier by the second.

that’s when you see a flash of dark fur, almost fuschia in the moonlight, jump in front of you, knock the beast out of the way, tumble to the side. you glance at the creature that saved you — a wolf with a fierce set of teeth and beautiful powder blue eyes — before you fall unconscious.

iv. stitch me up (touch me inside and out)

vi barely registers that the temperature in the apartment is dropping.

she doesn’t regret how she had to rip the heating pipe from the wall — there are nasty burns, still untreated, stinging her wrists where the silver cuffs had restrained her.

she doesn’t regret transforming from human to something wild, unrestrained, in order to save you from something much worse.

she’s still burning off adrenaline, her nervous system on high alert. it’s been a while, and she’d forgotten how exhilarating it can be.

it all happened so fast. there was something oddly familiar about the beast; he seemed to recognize vi, too. that’s the only explanation — for all the ruthless, bloody stories she’d heard, why else would he have let vi take you away and just disappear into the night without so much as a growl?

vi doesn’t have the energy to answer such questions. all she cares about is you. she can’t get over the overwhelming scent of your blood, already spilling out onto the street when she showed up. she almost lost control, blinded by rage and a desire to kill the beast — but you were there, on the brink of death, and she just wanted you to be safe, wanted to bring you home.

she just hopes she wasn’t too late.

vi hyper-focuses on your labored, disjointed breaths from where she tucked you in. she tried her best to stop the bleeding and dress your wounds with combinations of herbs and flowers she frantically read about in one of your books, desperate to keep you alive.

you’ve lost blood. a lot of blood.

vi wants nothing more than to curl up on the bed next to you, but after you saw her last night, once you realize that she’s no different than the savage beast you were so determined to kill, she’s not sure you’d want her near you.

she’ll just stay long enough to know that you’ll wake up, and then she’ll be out of your life forever.

dawn breaks. the sun shines through cracked, frost covered windows, and your eyes remain shut.

your heart’s still pumping blood, which is a good sign, but otherwise….

day bleeds into night, and you’re still out cold. vi manages to drip some water between your parted lips, and watches with relief as your throat reacts accordingly. you let out a gentle sigh, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly.

“please wake up,” vi whispers.

fangs jumps onto the bed and whimpers, nudging her nose against your arm so that she’s snuggled underneath. vi drapes a blanket over the pair of you.

another sleepless night passes.

at first light, vi changes your bandages. she struggles a bit, given her injured wrists, but she’s pleased to find you healing from what might have been a fatal injury to most humans. she tries to feed fangs, but the dog refuses.

fair enough — vi can’t bring herself to eat, either.

instead, to pass the time, vi glues together shards from the broken vase and places it back on the kitchen counter. there are no more fresh roses; vi decides she’ll bring you some as a parting gift once you’ve woken up.

you’re shivering by the time darkness starts to creep in. vi piles as many blankets as she can on you and fangs, but it’s not enough. vi accepts what she had been reluctant to do: she slips into bed next to you, uses her body to keep you warm, arms wrapped around you protectively.

vi doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she wakes up late the next afternoon, to cold rumpled sheets and an even colder empty apartment.

you must have a knack for perfect timing, because just as vi’s about to start spiralling, the front door swings open and it’s you — cheeks slightly flushed from the cold, holding a brown paper bag with one arm while your other hand grasps the key. fangs rushes through the door, too, tail wagging as she zooms around the apartment, bounces on the furniture and lets out excited little yaps.

“morning, killer.” you smile like you hadn’t been knocking on death’s door since a few nights before. “i would have waited, but you were pretty knocked out and fangs had a ton of energy to burn. clearly she still does,” you chuckle, sending a warm, fuzzy feeling through vi’s body. “i got us some food, too, and i’ll contact the landlord to fix our — whoa!”

the bag drops to your feet as vi pounces on you, engulfing your body in her arms and squeezing tightly. your heartbeat is as strong as ever, steadies her own frantic pulse.

“s-sorry.” she pulls away and takes a step back. “i shouldn’t have —”

you just shake your head and press a finger to her lips to quiet her.

“i’m sorry,” you say. “i shouldn’t have — i shouldn’t have treated you like that; shouldn’t have used who you are as a weapon against you. you saved me, vi.” you take a shuddery breath. you place a gentle hand on her cheek. “thank you.”

it takes vi a minute to process what you’ve said.��

you thanked her for saving you.

you apologized for using who she is as a weapon.

what did you mean by that?

unless —

i’m not the only monster hunter around here. you need to be careful.

she’s worth it.

you deserve a happy ending, violet. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

“you….knew,” vi realizes, and even as she says it, she can’t quite believe it. “how….how long?”

“from the first time i landed a punch on your handsome face.” smiling softly, you run your thumb over the faded burn on her cheek, the one mirroring her tattoo, the one left by your silver ring.

“are you serious?”

“well, fine, i didn’t know what you were, not exactly, until later. i just had a pretty good feeling that you weren’t human; you had a pulse, so you couldn’t be a vampire, which meant —”

“you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you?”

you shrug. “you knew what i was this whole time and it didn’t bother you.” while vi continues to stare at you in disbelief, you bend down to pick up the fallen items. vi crouches down with you.

“that’s different,” she reasons, handing you a soft red apple, your cold fingers brushing over her warm skin momentarily.

“i don’t think so. not all monsters are evil and not all humans are good. i saved you from a human that night, remember?”

“b-but you’re you and i-i’m me.” vi scrambles to find the right words. she’s still shocked at how calm you are. is it really as simple as you make it seem? “you weren’t….scared that i’d hurt you, because that’s who i am?”

you get up and place the bag of groceries in the kitchen, lean against the counter as you stare back at vi. instead of answering, you challenge her once again:

“were you scared that i’d hurt you?”

vi blinks at you. “never.”

“there’s your answer,” you declare, giving her that razor-sharp grin you flash whenever you win a fight.

fangs has calmed down, and she’s asleep on the living room couch, her snores the only sound between you as vi processes everything that’s been said.

she feels like her entire world has flipped upside down.

this whole time…..

it went terribly when she last told someone the truth, at least anyone outside her family, and even they would sometimes walk on eggshells around her, like they were worried she might snap.

but you….you’ve sparred and you’ve bickered and you never even flinched once.

you welcomed her into your home, into your life.

you kissed her.

this whole time.

“i was scared you wouldn’t love me, if you knew,” vi admits, a whisper so soft that she’s almost sure that you didn’t hear.

except you falter then, your confident posture melting at her confession. your lips part in a soft exhale.

“well, it’s like you said; i knew this whole time, and i still….” you swallow the rest of your sentence, but you’re looking at vi with so much adoration that it’s overwhelming. “i still want you.”

her brain short circuits, and all vi can think to do is kiss you.

it starts sweet, your lips rose-petal soft. her lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure. you run your fingers through vi’s hair, swallow her moans. she’s dizzy with anticipation, imagining how you might do the same when she’s between your legs later. you kiss the scar on her upper lip, gently like you’re hoping to heal the permanent wound. then, your tongue laves over the cut on vi’s bottom lip, soothes her, pushes into her mouth again so you’re both tasting copper.

but then, you bite down, and a desire buried deep within vi is unleashed: the desire to cut herself open for you so you can love each and every part of her. even deeper down, vi hopes that you’d want the same.

vi brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into her mouth even more. she lodges her thigh between your legs and shoves her tongue into your mouth when you gasp. one of your hands slips underneath her shirt to trace the contours of her abdomen, meticulously outlining each one.

“it’s been days since you’ve eaten, hasn’t it?” you mumble against her lips, pulling away slightly. your brows pinch together in worry, because you already know her body too well, can tell that each muscle is more defined, each edge a bit sharper. “you must be starving, baby. let’s eat something before —”

vi whines when you start to pull away even more.

“we can do that after.” she offers you her best puppy dog eyes as she pleads: “i’m hungry for something else now. i want you.”

to prove her point, vi guides your hand to her belt. your fingers dance along the metal and she eagerly awaits your response.

“fine,” you decide. “but whoever has the most orgasms makes dinner.”

“you’re on, angel.”

her breath hitches when your hand moves down the waistband of her pants; you play with her tangle of curls, tease the tip of your fingers into her wetness. she purrs against you.

“wait —” you pause your actions. vi whimpers when you remove your glistening fingers; you take off the silver ring on your pointer finger, grinning guiltily as you toss it on the counter behind you. “that would have been bad,” is all you say before inserting two fingers into her already slick pussy.

“ugh, ah — fuck, just like that, angel,” she moans, twitching as you ram your fingers into her.

you hum, stuff another finger into her heat, stretching her so deliciously that her legs start to tremble.

“such a good girl for me. aren’t you, violet?” you coo and start sucking the skin behind her ear. “you gonna make a mess, right here in our kitchen?”

and that does it — vi’s walls tighten around you, her wetness soaks through her clothes; she’s almost sure that it drips down onto the floor. vi whines as you remove your fingers, feeling empty. you shove your syrupy fingers into her mouth instead, her tongue greedily lapping up her own cum. a string of spit follows as you rip away your fingers and press your mouth against vi’s kiss-swollen, cum-covered lips. you feel something smouldering in the pit of your stomach at her whimpers; you’re nowhere near satisfied, but her eyes, all wide and dark and desperate, are pleading at you to let her indulge in her hunger, as well.

“what else do you want?”

vi paws at your breasts from above your shirt.

“i want to fuck you,” she declares, and you nod eagerly, your body bursting into flames.

she gestures at you to wrap your legs around her hips, and she carries you to the bed as you kiss more fiercely, teeth clacking and tongues fighting to explore every crevice of her mouth. you tear each other’s clothes off; but the cold air doesn’t faze you in the slightess, because you have vi, hot and passionate, above you, keeping you going.

your teeth gnaw on her bottom lip as vi messily thrusts against you, your cunts sliding against each other; sticky, languid bliss.

vi takes her time. she wants to savor every part of this, of you — the sting of your nails scratching down her tattooed back, no doubt leaving red marks in their wake; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet roses, combined with the thick musk of your desire, dripping against hers so deliciously; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging her to go faster, harder.

she nudges her nose against the crook of your neck, salivates at how your vein pulses for her like a tantalizing butterfly. her teeth graze your pulsepoint, but she’s trembling with the amount of self control it takes not to add any more pressure.

“v-vi,” you breathe her name like a prayer. “baby.”

a guttural moan bubbles from the back of her throat in response.

you gently run your fingers through her hair, coax her to look you in the eye, the gesture a sharp contrast to the harsh squelching of your cunts against each other, melding together with each determined thrust.

“you – ah,” you gasp as vi rolls her hips into yours with even more vigor. “you can bite me, if you want.”

vi licks her lips, swallows the hunger burning in her throat because you must be too fucked out if you’re willing to let vi fully indulge in this craving.

“but then you would —”

“lycanthropy is only transmitted when you’re in wolf form,” you explain through labored breaths. “so if you bite me now….and gods, i’m begging you to…..nothing’s gonna change.”

“i have never been more thankful for your slayer training,” she growls. “you really want that, huh? for me to mark you up really good, show everyone that you’re mine?”

“o-only if i can do the same,” you manage a smirk. “or are you all bark and no bite?” you tease, buck your hips upwards. vi is willing to die for your knife-like smile alone, so of course. she’d let you eat her whole, if that’s what you really wanted.

vi finally sinks her teeth into you, rolling her eyes back at how absolutely luscious you taste. like a good girl — your good girl — she follows your orders and bites. she bites down your neck, across your shoulders and collarbones, relishing in the imprints left in her wake.

vi knows now that she calls you angel for a reason. it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the pillow as your orgasm crashes through you. vi follows a few seconds later until you’re covered in her — she drenched the curls of your bush, her cum dripping down on your own wet pussy as she watches from above. vi can’t help it; she bends down, and you jolt slightly when her cold nipple piercing brushes against your clit. she does it again a few more times just to appreciate how you whine, rut your pussy against her perky breast, begging for more.

but, vi’s on the hunt for something else — she splits your folds with her sharp tongue, sucks any and all of your shared essence. she lets it slosh around in her mouth before hovering over you once more, silently ordering you to part your wet lips; when you comply, so obedient, vi spits into your wanton mouth, thick and velvety.

“swallow,” she orders, voice rough with lust. you do so quite eagerly.

and just like that, you’re back to grinding on each other, leaving a delectable mess along the skin of each other’s thighs. the tension in vi’s abdomen snaps when you wrap your lips around her nipple, suckling at your own wetness until drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth.

after feeling her gush against you, a feral impulse rips through you. you release her nipple with a distinct pop, the cold metal still burning on your tongue as you yank vi’s hair, exposing her tender skin, glittering with sweat in the dark golden light as the sun starts to set. you pull her close, bite around the tattoo on the side of her neck, hard. vi howls in pleasure as you taste salt and iron and her, reaching your peak.

vi waits patiently as you come down from your high, chest heaving, your neck still engraved with the outline of her teeth while yours are stained red. you crash your lips onto hers, chaotic and insatiable, kissing her like she’s your last meal. in turn, she licks into your mouth, tongue tracing your canines to savor what you’ve consumed of hers.

“you sure you’re not a vampire? that would be quite the scandal,” vi jokes later when you’re sitting in her lap, taking time to clean each other up. vi’s only wearing a shirt, but you’ve doubled up on clothes, the apartment growing colder as night approaches.

you already tended to the burns on her wrists (and apologized profusely for causing them; you also scolded her a bit for not tending to herself sooner). now you use disinfectant to wipe down her neck, where you broke skin; you quickly place a bandage that soothes the sting and vi presses a grateful kiss to your sternum.

you hum around the unlit cigarette in your mouth, which you had rolled beforehand with dried rose petals. with your hands unoccupied, you reach for your lighter. vi tilts her chin to gaze up at you; you’re backlit by the evening twilight, a silver halo around you as flowery smoke billows from your mouth.

“i’m sure they won’t be thrilled to know that a slayer’s fallen in love with a werewolf, either,” you muse, beaming at her.

vi clicks her tongue. “sounds like we’re breaking some bylaws.”

“oh, she’s worth it; i’d do anything for my charming, sexy, handsome werewolf.”

you lean forward and exhale smoke into vi’s parted mouth, lips brushing against each other as you share the same breath. you sit back once your lungs are burning and admire the view.

vi — normally all rough edges and dark shadows — blushing a delicate pink as you praise her.

“she’s got a killer right hook, too,” you continue. you offer vi the cigarette and she nods; you hold it, place it between her lips as she takes a drag. “a body so hot that it’s honestly unfair. she’s a fighter, which i love, and some people might think she’s just a scary dog, but i think she’s beautiful and brave and a total softie —”

“okay, okay,” vi coughs, the tips of her ears red. she takes the cigarette from you and stubs it out on the makeshift ashtray by the windowsill. vi rolls over so she’s on top of you, cupping your face in her hands. she pecks across your cheeks until you’re giggling; you try to turn the tables, and the two of you just end up wrestling in a tangle of sheets and laughter and tender kisses.

eventually, you both calm down.

“you hungry?”

“not really. you?”

vi shakes her head. “we’ll make breakfast together in the morning?”

“sounds heavenly.”

it’s dark outside, but the stars are out and the waning moon shines bright. vi positions herself behind you, her body curving into yours, chin notched over your shoulder and arm secure on your waist.

fangs must feel left out, because she shuffles under the covers for warmth before immediately falling back asleep, her fur tickling at your feet.

your thumb rubs against the gauze on vi’s wrist. you can’t help but feel regret, heavy like lead in your stomach.

“baby, i’m fine,” vi assures, already knowing what you’re thinking.

“i….i just hate that i did this to you,” you mumble, bringing her wrist up so you can kiss it.

“you were trying to protect me. it’s what we do, yeah? protect each other?”

when you hum in agreement, vi guides you to turn around so you’re facing each other. on instinct, she parts your legs with her thigh. your sweatshirt has ridden up, so vi starts to rub circles onto your exposed hip bone, her touch soft as velvet.

“next time you go out there, i’m coming with you.”

your breath hitches as you trace the tattoos licking up her arm. “vi….”

“this isn’t up for debate,” vi declares. she reaches her hand up to caress your cheek, thumb delicately rubbing the shadows under your eye. “you almost died. whatever almost killed you is still out there. you’re strong — gods, you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met — but you don’t have to face any of this alone. not anymore.”

you let out a surprised laugh.

“what?” she murmurs shyly, her eyes the soft, pale blue of moonlight, star-like freckles dazzling her sculpted cheeks.

“no, it’s just….anyone who’s known that i’m the slayer either calls me delusional, runs scared, or expects me to do it all by myself. hell — that’s how it was written, how it was destined to be."

vi nudges her nose against yours. her breath tickles your lips, heats up your entire being with a warmth so divine, you wonder if you actually have died and gone to heaven.

you’re both alive, though, a bit bruised and wounded. the world is dark and cold, but here’s this beautiful, strong girl with a beautiful, strong heart who holds you close, parts her full lips — like two rose petals, kiss-bitten and crimson — and vows:

“fuck destiny. it’s you and me now, angel.”

v. my heart is black and beats for you

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

it’s a quiet night. you spent most of it lamenting how you got your ass kicked earlier and fantasizing about the woman who did it, when you see a shadow of a person passed out at the corner of the street, and another trying to steal from them.

someone has to stand against the forces of darkness and evil, and the universe somehow determined that would be you — a fate you’ve had to accept through bruised ribs and broken hearts and bloody prophecies, but one you’ve had to accept nonetheless.

if that goes beyond vampires and demons, so be it.

after you’ve managed to send the creep on the run, you recognize the person you saved:

it’s her.

she looked more intimidating in the pit, honestly — all harsh and dark, furrowed brows and vicious snarls.

it takes you kneeling in front of her to be able to really see it through the black face paint. you take a little pride in the bruise that blossoms on her cheek and the cut through her eyebrow, thinking that at least you got a few shots in before she took you out with a killer right hook.

your jaw still aches and you still taste copper thanks to her, but without the roars from the crowd or the pressure of hefty prize money that you need to survive, you can see her more clearly. she’s bleeding through her bandages; she’s shivering because, gods, it’s freezing this time of year and all she’s wearing underneath a flimsy leather jacket is scrap fabric that would not be counted as a shirt; and she looks like she hasn’t eaten in days despite reeking of alcohol.

that’s when you see a burn on her cheekbone, too, just about where your silver ring would have collided with her skin. you hold your breath, lean in closer to her chest and listen closely to check — the thumping of a strong, steady heartbeat; the gentle rush of blood flowing through her veins.

so, not a vampire. maybe a human with a silver allergy, but what’s more likely is that she’s….something else.

“hey.” you whisper. when she doesn’t respond, you cup her face in one hand and tap her bruised cheek with your thumb. her skin is warm; if she were a human, you’d think she had a fever. “wake up.”

you resist the urge to jerk away when she softly takes your hand in hers, the gesture a sharp contrast to her knuckles bloodied from earlier.

“five more minutes, cupcake,” she whines, her voice echoing down the empty alley.

“look, it’s late and freezing. we should really go before —”

“please. just stay with me. i promise i’ll be good.”

your chest aches at her sincere tone. did you sound the same, when you made a similar promise before to the people you’ve loved after they found out who — what — you are? did you also look so broken, so bruised when they left?

you know the council wouldn’t approve of what you’re about to do.

but you also know well enough from years of studying and training and fighting as the slayer that their judgement should not be taken as scripture.

in other words: fuck the council.

(plus — you need a friend, or just….someone. it’s lonely, being the chosen one. and this girl, in front of you — when you fought, her body reacting to yours so fluidly, you had somehow never felt more understood.)

you manage to get her to her feet.

she mumbles something incomprehensible into your neck, her breath hot against your skin. you let her lean into your body after a weak attempt at holding herself up. it’s not much trouble for you, though. it’s a cold night, anyways; her body, solid and warm, is almost comforting against yours.

you trust your instincts and carry her home.

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hellfire--cult · 1 month ago

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Omega!Emperor Geta x Alpha!Barbarian!Fem!Reader

+18 omegaverse, fem!alpha, dark tropes, very slight dubcon that turns into con, gore, blood, animal death, slapping, tyrant Geta, scenting, knotting, biting, p in v, oral sex (m and f receiving), bondage, breeding kink, mentions of injuries, as well as very threatening dialogues, murder and allusions to murder.

wc: 14.5k

Plot: The Emperor hid his true designation since he presented thanks to a concoction he made out of the blood of Alphas, but what happens when one particular woman enters his colosseum, and he can't look away? He won't give up his throne. No mercy. There shouldn't be. So why isn't the omega inside him listening? Why did it have mercy on her?

A/N: This man is not an Alpha. No matter how people try to paint him as, he is a whimpery man, and I want to see him tear up. thank u to @andvys and @ghost-proofbaby for beta reading and also Hailey for just saying 'm-preg' on a chat and my brain went brr.

Warning before reading: Alphas have penises, being male or female. Omegas have vaginas. This does not mean they identify as the other gender they were born in, or change it at all when they present. It's a secondary gender. Reader has a cock (testicles replacing the ovaries inside), Geta a pussy (with a cocklette instead of clit).

A reblog is better than leaving just one like.

MERCY

Mix. Mix. Mix. Smash together. Crunch it up. Mix some more. Pour. Drink.

It was automatic at this point. The scent of herbs, the stench of iron, the dead body in the corner of his room, the blood jar that contained the remaining blood of a past dead man. The golden bowl on his table with the concoction he created, a transparent red, with an oily texture, and particles of herbs floating all around.

The emperor dipped his index and middle finger in and then rubbed the liquid in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He made sure to smother it well, on both sides to be certain to cover it up very well. He proceeded to take more and lay it all over his wrists, leaving a red tint behind but he can cover it with his tunics. He grabbed the bowl and his nose scrunched as he raised it towards his face, the smell pungent, wooden, filled with ash as well. He opened his mouth and drank the rest of it, letting go down his throat. His stomach revolted as he put the bowl down with a slam, his breathing turning heavy as he groaned, his hand coming to cover his mouth.

No matter how many times he did this, it didn’t get any less disgusting. His bottom half cramped and he grunted, his hands slamming on the table as he held himself upright. His head turned to see the dead body that lay there, marching towards it and kicking the slashed stomach, his foot now stained with its blood.

His jaw clenched tightly as anger filled him, his body trying to betray him like it always does but he never lets it. He can’t let it. His eyes went to the face of the man’s body. He was cute, but he sadly knew too much. This stupid fucking Alpha knew too much.

Yet, he can’t help but also be thankful for him being nosy, because if he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t be able to get the blood he needs. To make that perfume that covers up his darkest secret, one his brother doesn’t remember, one that only his personal confidant doctor knows about, because if it were to get out, he would not be on the throne, and his brother is not in the best state of mind to rule by himself.

Because no Roman would bow to an Omega.

He heard a knock on the door and he closed his eyes as he turned around to grab his robe, putting it on as he headed towards the big golden framed doors, opening one to see his doctor, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and then followed by a sniff, angering the emperor.

“Yes, you cannot be smelled, Emperor Geta.” He knows it's part of his job to make sure it actually works, but he still gets enraged when his doctor has to sniff him because it reminds him of this vulnerability of his. This forsaken misery the gods have imposed on him as if it would have stopped him from being ruler of Rome.

“Get disposed of the body. Feed it to the dogs or to the people saying it’s rhinoceros meat, I don’t care.” His voice was cold as Caius walked in with a silver trolley, closing the door behind him. His simple robes were white, one shoulder exposed with a small golden badge to hold it on the side, signaling he was part of the royal personnel.

“As you wish, dominus noster.” His doctor walked towards the body to inspect it, making a small tsk noise, making Geta’s eyebrow twitch. “You were pretty light on this one. Just slashing his stomach, his neck… Surprised to not see guts on the floor.”

“It’s getting messier to clean up, and that has to be quick, so stop talking and get to it Caius!” His voice was loud, almost scratching an ear drum, and he managed to control his whine thanks to the liquid he had prepared finally sitting in his stomach. The blood of an Alpha on his scent glands and in his system, and it’s enough to cover his omegan stench.

He has been killing the barbarian Alphas for as long as he can remember, buying them off after a game, and people thought that the Emperor loved the atrocious act of making another Alpha submit to him, taking them to his bed, an Alpha on Alpha is what his people called it. Little did they know that it was to take their blood out of their succumbed bodies after he made a mess out of them.

He was very graphic at the beginning thanks to his anger, but as clean up took longer and his brother liked visiting him in his chamber, he had to do things a little quicker now. His dear brother who, thanks to his illness, forgot about what he truly is. His Beta brother forgot his sibling was an Omega and fully believed he was an Alpha thanks to the scent the concoction gave him. The Alpha from the day before had smelled him once he got inside the room and the Emperor quickly disposed of him, but fear struck him.

He put more blood in this time, harder to swallow but maybe it has more effect than the last few mixes he did because that Alpha could smell him, even if just a bit. A recipe brought by Caius the moment Geta had presented, his mother begging for mercy from the doctor and to not give away her prodigy’s child secret. Caius, indebted to Julia for saving him from the streets, accepted the task, and through many experiments and sacrifices, he came up with this ‘medicine’.

“I’ll extract his blood back in my office. You should get ready for the games of today. I heard there is a big surprise, a new gladiator coming to prove themselves.” Caius mentioned as he grabbed the cleaver from the bottom of the trolley where many blankets waited to be drenched in the man’s blood, for when the doctor would start chopping him up in pieces in order to carry him out.

“Not a drop wasted. You hear me?” Caius nodded, the Omega bowing his head to another who pretended to be an Alpha. For being an Omega, Caius was very calm and collected, not letting his pheromones show at all, or make it known by his actions or reactions. Geta envied him. He knows that if an Alpha came along who could spark his interest he would immediately fold for them, submit in ways he wouldn’t be able to control.

He would rather kill himself than show submission to an Alpha.

He was sitting on the stone throne next to his brother, upon the closed imperial box next to the podiums where the elite Romans cheered.

Caius sat behind him wearing new robes, the general Acacius behind Caracalla with his wife next to him. Geta’s attention went to Dondas, his brother’s pet, or best friend, or he doesn’t know if he considers her a sibling at this point. The monkey was making happy noises as Caracalla fed it small treats, a giggle in his lips.

“I wonder what’s the surprise. I’ve been hearing we are going to be quite shocked, brother.” Caracalla says as he looks at Geta with a wicked smile on his face, yet excited. Geta reciprocates the gesture, his own crazed excitement building in his chest as he awaited to see how much blood might be spilled today. One of the things he liked the most was knowing that there were barbarian Omegas fighting below him sometimes, fighting for their lives, trying not to choke on their own blood after being stomped by elephants that were brought into the field.

He was a hidden omega ruler. He felt like he was a god, managing to make people worship him not knowing his true nature. His true intentions. The sick methods he has to go through in order to hide his true self. Yes, he should be considered a god among the Romans at this point.

The announcer makes the soldiers behind him blow their horns as he steps out in the announcing box, the people cheering as he raises his hands with a smile on his face. The emperors clap with grins, getting more comfortable in their thrones as they wait for the announcement.

“Welcome! Today we have a very special surprise waiting for all of you!” The crowd cheers as Geta hears Caracalla clapping excitedly, cheering loudly, making him chuckle at seeing his adrenaline. “I hear you. This is no ordinary surprise. We caught a barbarian back on the island of Corsica. One who fought with every fiber of their being, and you would be surprised, but that barbarian is the one who caused the scar on General Acacius' face!”

Geta’s eyes widened as he laughed, looking back to look at his general, who was closing his eyes in pity. The emperor didn’t understand the gesture, but the excitement didn’t lower at all in its levels. He felt his blood running hot in anticipation, the smell of excited Alphas around the podiums while there were cowering Omegas at the top balconies, the bottom of the social chain.

“He got you good, didn’t he!?” Geta snickered as Acacius looked at him, an unreadable expression lingered, and the emperor turned his head again to keep listening as he played with the rings on his right hand.

“Fighting against lions who have been starved for over two days, here are the gladiators of this day!” The crowd cheers once again as the gates slowly open for the men to come out, having very dull swords as weapons and wooden shields but then the crowd gasps and remains silent as the last one comes out, the announcer wearing a smile on his face as the imperial box sits in shock, except for the wounded General.

“What in the heavens…” Caius exclaims in shock as Geta looks wide eyed at the field below him.

“And here I give you… The first ever barbarian woman to make it to the games!”

Your walk was confident, your face clenched as you came to stand next to the other gladiators. Your sword in hand, the shield on the other, no different than the men that stood on the same patch of dirt as you did. And then, gasps, screams, yelps and whines coming from the crowd. Caracalla pinched his nose tightly as he gasped, Caius falling on his chair as he choked on his spit and then there was Geta.

Who was wide eyed in shock, his body trembling as there in the field stood a Female Alpha.

They were rare, very rare. The only Alpha woman he ever met was his aunt, who was stupidly judged, and exiled from the city. But that was not the only thing that made his breath cut short. It was the fact that he felt his body shake aggressively, his skin starting to profusely sweat in seconds and his breathing became elaborate as he stood up from his throne.

He felt his throat closing up on him the more he got of you, your scent too potent even from this distance. What were you? Were you a prime Alpha? Those were rare, and for you to be one, a woman, it shouldn’t be, it couldn’t. He saw how you were staring at the crowd who was still silent as they looked upon you, the men next to you fidgeting in fear as you all waited for the game to start.

And suddenly, wind picked up softly, Geta felt his robes moving thanks to it, not paying any mind as he kept looking your way. The wind slowly got to you, and your nostrils flared up in an instant. Geta saw how your eyes widened, how you lowered your sword as you slowly turned your head until it finally landed on him. Your eyes clashed with his and for the first time in his life–

‘SUBMIT.’

He fell back on his throne as he clutched his chest, Caius immediately getting up to kneel next to the emperor, seeing how Geta was sweating all over, making the doctor anxious as he whispered to him.

“You are washing away the medicine. What is going on, our lord?” But the emperor could not speak as he breathed heavily, looking down at you as your eyes stood fixated on him. The smell got worse. It was as if the dirt was burning, as if there were wine being spilled all over him. He felt his body growing hotter and then, you took a step towards the imperial box.

And the horns blew off.

“Let the game begin!” And Geta wanted to yell to stop it. Yell to cancel this game but– what would his excuse be? His head turned to Caius who was still looking at him worriedly. Caracalla leaned over with a worried frown and teary eyes.

“Are you okay, brother?” Geta gulped and nodded, trying to dismiss it as something trivial.

“Y-Yes, it caught me off guard.” His brother gave a nod and then smiled back into the field. A loud cheer was let out from him as the gates for the lions started to be pulled up. Geta’s eyes snapped towards the gates as he saw the lions roar loudly, hungry for the people that were on the field, leaping out at quick speed.

His face contorted in worry as your eyes snapped to look towards the animals that were going to pounce on all of you. The first gladiator took a bite to the head as a lion lept towards him, while another one was able to cut a lion’s belly as he ducked when the beast jumped over him. The field became a bloodbath but the crowd’s eyes as well as the emperor’s never left your figure.

You were enraged, your movements aggressive as you stabbed, slashed, ducked, jumped over these beasts and no one was realizing you were doing this while getting closer to the imperial box. Every time you got closer, a lion came to attack you. You were covered in blood as the minutes went by, only three people remaining in the field out of the ten that got in, and two more lions.

One of the men got a bite out of his side and took the opportunity to stab the animal in the head, while the last lion attacked the man that was standing next to you, biting the middle of his stomach as he screamed in agony. You jumped on top of the lion’s back, the beast roaring loudly in distaste as you growled in a low and threatening demeanor, making the lion suddenly whimper. The crowd gasped as they witnessed how the lion slowly lost its struggle as you hissed loudly.

Geta could only stare as he trembled, the sound of your growl having sent electricity shocks all over his body, his hands gripping the armrests’ edge tightly, his knuckles turning white. Your eyes fixated on him again as the lion gave another roar, jerking upwards as it got out of the trance you put him in.

The emperor stood up as he leaned towards the balcony’s edge, worry showing in his features when the lion started thrashing around with you on top of him. You held tightly around his neck, your arms coming together to begin a chokehold on the beast, the alpha pheromones making the entire crowd almost kneel in their place, even the Alphas. He wonders if the Omegas at the top had to be escorted out by now.

Your right hand gripped your left elbow tightly as you used your entire strength to choke the animal that was now struggling more and more, throwing itself on the floor, rolling to try to get you off of it but you didn’t let it, even if your body fell to the sides, your arms never left its neck. You growled loudly as you bared your teeth, clamping onto the lion’s right ear and biting down fiercely. The animal roared in pain as you yanked and tore it all off, making it lose the air in its lungs thanks to the noise it had to make, slowly starting to wobble on its feet.

The crowd stood in silence as the lion finally tumbled to the ground leaving you panting on top of it. You slowly let go of your arms, unwrapping them from around the animal’s neck as you stood up again, grabbing the sword from the ripped-apart Omega the lion was eating before you jumped on top of it. Making sure it’s dead, you stabbed the animal’s head with it, and let the sword stay there as you finally looked up to see the imperial box, spitting the ear away.

Geta was gulping as he felt his thighs start to be covered in slick. He had to run away but his eyes were fixated on you, wanting to jump down from the balcony to rush to you, to kneel in front of you, to let himself be claimed once and for all. Why you? Why a woman? Why?

‘Submit. SUBMIT.’

The voice in his head was loud, knowing it was his omega side betraying him after all these years. The gate opened again to reveal soldiers coming out, ready for the emperor’s orders.

“MERCY! MERCY! MERCY!” He suddenly heard the crowd start cheering and he looked all over, at every single Alpha yelling for him to have mercy on this… woman. His eyes went back to you as you stared back at him, with blown out pupils, nose flaring and he knew you knew. He knew you could smell him despite it all. He knew you knew he was an Omega, and you were trying to make him submit to you.

He raised his trembling fist up, putting his thumb right in the middle. You have to die. You have to die right now. No one can know about him. You will destroy him because he knows you will tell everyone. He knows you will give his secret away. He has to kill you. He has to fucking let those soldiers rip you to shreds.

Caius was staring at the emperor as well as all the people that sat in the same box, waiting for his decision. The doctor knew something was going on. He never saw the emperor react this way, ever, and he could only guess it had to do with the Alpha barbarian standing in front of the imperial box with the blood of animals all over her as she breathed heavily while looking at Geta. Could it be?

“MERCY, MERCY, MERCY!”

‘Submit. Submit. Submit.’

“MERCY, MERCY, MERCY!”

‘Mate. Mate. Mate.’

His hand trembled. His finger was shaking as it remained in the middle. He has to kill you. Your guts have to fill the floor below you, make you learn your place. He doesn’t care if you're an Alpha. He doesn’t care. You have to fucking die.

And his thumb went upwards as the crowd cheered.

He was pacing back and forth in Caius’ office as the doctor looked through a book.

“There has to be an explanation! You’re my doctor so you can save me and protect me if anything were to happen to me!” Geta’s voice was strained as he felt his body burning all over, the medicine the doctor had prepared not helping at all as slick kept sliding down his legs, not being able to stop it.

“I am looking, but I cannot find anything. These are signs of heat.”

“But your suppressant things always help! They always help Caius!” He was borderline pathetically about to cry.

“Gods, I understand, trust me boy, I do! I don’t know why you got affected by that Alpha–”

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m planning on killing her tonight.” Caius' eyes widened, getting up from his chair so he could approach the emperor with shock on his face.

“She is now a known face around your loyal subjects. Even the Omegas cheered for her today. You will not be liked if you decide to kill her–”

“She knows.” That made the doctor stand frozen. How could you? You were so far away from them. You weren’t a prime alpha. He noticed it because he did not get afflicted as much as the emperor did. Prime Alphas make all omegas in their radius fall to their knees, and the only one that was about to crumble was Geta.

“How…?” The emperor shook his head, not knowing how to answer for he did not know. He doesn’t know how you managed it. Even over his homemade scent blocker that no one ever was able to break through, and over the immense distance the two of you had between each other.

“I will kill her tonight. I already bought her and they’re bringing her to my chamber and cuffing her to the bed.” Caius could only reluctantly nod at the emperor’s orders, sighing.

“I will prepare the medical kit–”

“Alone.” Caius’ eyes widened, shaking his head furiously.

“No! You cannot be alone with an Alpha like that! We don’t know why you are weak to their scent and–” Geta pushed the doctor away from him, to then slap him right across the face. The emperor breathed heavily as Caius held his cheek in shock, looking back at the man before him. Anger filled the slapped Omega, giving Geta a slow bow. “As you wish.”

“I will call on you if I need help. So stay behind the doors.” He ordered his doctor and said man only bowed once more, making the emperor straighten up and fix his night robe, chest showing until his happy trail poked from the bottom of it. He took a deep breath in as he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He walked out of Caius’ office, with the doctor following right behind him. They quickly moved to avoid guards from smelling the Emperor. They passed by Caracalla’s room, who was put to sleep by raw chamomile herbs Caius gave him so he wouldn’t wake up in any way in the night.

He stopped in his tracks when he was outside his own chambers. He could smell you. He could smell your potent Alpha stench, overpowering everything around you, and he felt his knees tremble underneath him. He shouldn’t go in. He should go in at least with Caius so he could help take care of you, but the thought of someone seeing you like that made him want to growl. His mouth trembled as he felt his heart about to implode in itself, the hammering of it against his chest almost painful.

“I will be out here, dominus.” Geta turned to look at him and gave him one single nod, handing him the key to the chains that held his door together.

“Open it once I tell you it is done, or if I need help. Got it?” The doctor gave the emperor an understanding nod, and proceeded to sit on the bench that was placed next to the entrance of his room. Geta took a deep breath in and stared at the handle of his door, his hand reaching to grab it, shaking as he felt the slick gushing out of him the more he smelled you.

He held the air in and pushed the door open. The scent was now stronger, way stronger than before, and it made him want to stumble back from the power of it. He closed the door behind him and he heard the chains moving, knowing Caius had locked them inside. His head turned to walk into the dimly lit room by the candles, his big bed right in the middle with golden bedposts and sheets draping from the edges of it.

You were lying there in the middle, hands cuffed with iron prison cuffs on his bed posts, arms spread as your back rested against the headboard. Your head was hung low and he heard how you took a sharp breath in before slowly lifting your gaze up at him. His legs almost gave up on him as your eyes settled on him, his neck sweating as he gulped loudly. Your face and body were cleaned, wearing just a hitched-up tunic over you, but–

His eyes widened when he saw the tent you had on your bottom half.

A dark chuckle was heard in the room, his eyes flying to meet yours once again. You looked feral, yet he couldn’t help to think you were the most beautiful alpha he had ever seen in his entire life. He licked his lips as he slowly approached the bed, just small steps, and your eyes traveled to his exposed chest and back to his face.

“Nice to meet you, lord.” Your voice was mockingly sweet, yet with sarcasm filled all over. He wanted to kiss your lips to see if he could taste your voice, but he had to keep a straight face and a stoic mind. He had one task tonight, and he had to complete it. He couldn't fail.

“Name.” You stared at him for a long while, your mind not moving, and his eyes were big in frustration, his teeth slowly baring. “NAME!”

You wanted to laugh because of the false Alpha tone he tried to use, but you humored him, telling him your name.

“Why did you buy me off?” Geta rounded the bed, standing far still as he cocked his head your way.

“Because I have to kill you.” At his words, you let out a loud cackle, your head hitting the headboard behind you. Geta’s eyes were wide and in shock as he saw how your laughter slowly lowered as seconds passed.

“Oh, really? Why is that?”

“Because I say so.” His response was short, but a smile was kept on your lips as your head tilted to look at him with an incredulous look in your face.

“Are you sure it is just for that reason… Omega?”

He choked on his own breath as he felt a punch, a cramp happening in his belly. It was painful, yet it caused more slick to gush down his legs, stumbling backwards from just a mere word you said to him. Something no one ever called him before, not even his own mother. Your eyes were piercing through him and he felt his body burning as he grabbed a sword from the weapon rack and marched towards you, pressing the tip of it on your throat.

“You know too much. I have to kill you, you dumb stupid Alpha!” You chuckled, feeling the tip of the pointy metal on your skin.

“How did you do it?” You asked and he huffed, shaking his head. You closed your eyes and he saw how you took a sniff out of the air, a smirk appearing on your lips. “Alpha blood. Ingenious.”

“Good job on finding that out you filth. And I don’t know if you’re dumb or a knothead like all Alphas are, but you do realize why I need to kill you now, don’t you?” He tried to make his voice sound authoritative, hating how it didn’t sound at all like yours even if you were a woman. Your voice was strong, made to obey. Your laughter made every joint of his become pliant, wanting to just get on the bed and on top of you, take what he wanted from you.

“No, you won’t.” Your laughter ceased, only glaring at him and he snarled, pressing the tip even harder against your skin, pricking it and letting blood flow out.

“An emperor does not give out empty threats you damned slug! Why do you believe I won’t, huh!? What makes you believe I will have any mercy for you right now?” And a confident smile spread on your lips and it made his belly cramp once again as his eyebrows twitched at your stance.

“Because you want me, Omega. You want me to taste you, take that purity away from you, knot you and breed you until your womb takes.” Your statements made his palms sweat, his body convulsing as the heat spread all over him, his eyes becoming glossed over as he stared at you, and his hand lost its strength, making the sword fall down and onto the floor.

Out of nowhere, you lifted your body off the headboard, ripping your hands away from the cuffs. His eyes were wide as he saw blood coming down your forearms, the skin around your wrists now teared thanks to the friction of getting your hands out of those constricting iron bracelets. He didn’t notice you had been slowly wiggling your way out of them and, how could he have been so naive?

You kneeled up, grabbing the back of his head, getting hold of his scalp and hair in a tight and painful grip that made him yelp. He tried breaking free, but his strength was not there. He huffed in pain as you threw him on the bed, making him bounce on it and the moment he did, he felt your scent ten times stronger. You have been sweating over his sheets, and– Fuck– Fuck, he could smell your precum. He could smell it.

“No–! Let go!” You growled at the Omega’s defiance when you straddled him over his hips, and for the first time in his life, Geta shut up. His eyes were wide as he looked at how your hands immediately grabbed onto the string of his robes and pulled. He gasped and was about to yell only for a choke to escape him when he felt you punch him right in the stomach, a wave of nausea washing over him.

“Don’t underestimate the strength of an Alpha in a semi-rut, Omega.” His robes opened, falling on his sides and your eyes raked over him as he held his stomach, coughing from the punch you gave him.

“Damn you…” You weren’t listening to him, and his eyes followed yours, and he realized you were looking at his loincloth, how drenched it was thanks to his slick, and he clenched around nothing at all as he smelled how aroused you were, a twitch happening on the tent over the skirt of your tunic.

“How threatening…” Your hand grabbed onto one of his wrists, his body trying to make him go limp for you, to submit, but he cannot let it, so his legs start kicking up, trying to get you off him, which only made you laugh as your grip around his wrist tightened, fingers digging into his flesh. “-- An Omega in heat is as strong as a thread of silk.”

Geta’s body was reddened, the burning of his blood becoming unbearable each second that passed. You were strong, very strong, or like you said, he was weak at this point. He let his instincts decide your fate, and he shouldn’t have trusted them. He shouldn’t have trusted his stupid instincts because they were clearly in your favor. He delivered a swat to your face with his free hand, which you dodged easily, an unamused look on your face as you stared him down. Your eyebrow twitched at how much he was moving around as you tried to put his wrist over his head.

“Stop moving or I'll cut your legs off.” Your voice was low, a tone that was never used on him before, something that made his insides turn in delight, in disgust, in excitement, in shame. His body fell limp beneath you as he tried to make it listen to him again, but his mind was clouded for a few seconds, tears filling his eyes from the sudden need. The sudden need of you.

You put his hands over his head, tying them together with the sling of his robe, and then tied the end of it to one of the cuffs you got yourself out from. Your eyes went towards your own wrists, seeing the open wounds, your raw flesh exposed as it stung slightly. You would have to take care of it later, and the emperor’s eyes followed your sight to see the wounds you provoked on yourself.

Your eyes widened when you heard a small whine. It was very small, and short, but it was enough for your ear to pick up the sound. Geta’s face was that of shock, not knowing where the sound had come from, nor why he did it against his own will.

“Aw… does someone care for their Alpha?” That made Geta’s anger arise despite the arousal and the slick gushing out of his cunt. A cunt he hid for so many years, putting items in his loincloth to make it pretend he had a bulge. A cunt that is now clenching over nothing as it begs to be touched for the first time, and not by just anyone. You. It wants you. He hissed, baring his teeth at you as he yanked on the binds you put on his wrists.

“You are not my Alpha! I have no Alpha! Never will!” That made your face twitch with distaste, your nose scrunching up slightly but then you let out a small chuckle, catching his attention.

“Oh, but I am. And you are my Omega, and if you think that I’m going to let you walk out of this room a virgin and unbred, you are greatly mistaken, my lord.”

‘Submit.’

“No– No–! CAIUS! CAIUS!!!” He started screaming as the voice in his mind became loud, and consistent, making his body grow weaker and the slick between his legs thicker. He yelled for his doctor, but he heard no chains being opened. He heard nothing, making his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach. You looked over your shoulder and back down at him with a twisted smile.

“It seems someone ditched you, my emperor.”

‘Mate. Mate. Mate.’

“No, no, no, no– I worked too hard– No!” He kept screaming his doctor’s name, and you just watched him, waiting for his vocal cords to fail on him, for him to grow tired. His arms were still fighting, his legs trying to kick you off still, and you pressed yourself harder onto his hips, right on his pained belly. His voice cut off, making him grunt as he threw his head back at the feeling of pressure on his cramps.

“You can’t fight it. You were mine the moment I stepped into that field, as well as I became yours.” Those words made him look at you, his eyes connecting with yours and a shock of electricity rushed through both of your bodies, a sweat of pleasure washing over as a moan came out of your lips and his. His legs stopped moving, falling limp on the bed as he breathed heavily, his hivemind slowly taking over, his rationality being thrown out a balcony in the lapse of minutes. Everything he worked for, all of his resolve, was rendered to nothing in these few moments he spent with you.

“I– I should kill you…” You shook your head at him, a grin on your lips.

“Let me show you why you shouldn’t.” Geta felt his skin as if acid had been thrown on it. It was burning him, painfully, but with pleasure. He had never experienced a proper heat because of how much he rejected his designation, and he is still wondering how did you of all people manage to trigger it.

He gasped when you leaned forward, pressing your lips on his chest, your tongue lolling out to lick some of his sweat away, a pleased moan residing in your throat. He whimpered, trying to hold the stupid and pathetic moan in, just by you licking him. You licked your lips before placing another kiss to his collarbone, then moving up to his neck, your nose grazing his mating gland for just a second, but it was enough for the emperor to flinch in fear, your head snapping to look at him.

“No– No, don’t–”

“No need to fear me… I won’t. But you will want it by the end of this.” He wanted to scoff and deny your words, but as soon as your mouth pressed against his pulse point, he was rendered speechless, choking on his spit as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. He could feel your lips, your tongue licking all over, your teeth nibbling on him, tasting every little piece of skin that you could. He suddenly felt you sucking on his flesh, making his eyes snap open, his body wiggling underneath you.

“No marks! Don’t you dare in the hells mark me!” At his defiance, you growled, your teeth clamping on the side of his throat, and he cried out of pain, fear, your teeth way too close to his mating gland. You were not going to listen to him, adamant to keep up the intention of making him yours. You pulled away from him, looking down at his face, your lips stained red because of the blood you drew from the bite.

“Don’t you dare order me.”

“I am the Emperor… I can command anyone to kill you in just a second! You should fear me, not defy me, much less–” His voice was cut short when your hand immediately wrapped around his throat, his arms yanking against the bindings you made, trying to set free as he choked on your hold, his legs kicking up behind you, but your strength– it was too great.

“Don’t threaten me, Omega. You are talking way too much for someone who is pinned on the bed with no way of protecting himself at all.” He whined underneath your hold, and then he winced when he felt a cramp punch him right in his bottom half. They were getting worse each second that passed and his mind was losing oxygen because of your hold. You immediately let go of him, and he choked for air as you stared down at him.

“You’re… You’re crazy.” He spat out with venom. He hated you. He hated you. He wanted to kill you. He wanted to rip your chest open to take your heart out. He wanted to dip his hand in the middle of your stomach to take your intestines out… He hated you. He hated that he wanted you. He hated the fact you were making his slick come out in quantities he never experienced before. He hated that he wanted you to take his purity away.

He hated that he wanted to submit his Omega to your Alpha.

“You’re one to talk, now shut the hell up.” Your mouth went back down to kiss his chest, making him groan as you kissed your way towards his left nipple. He gasped as your mouth enveloped it, your tongue flicking the nub over and over again until it perked up. He whimpered as his body trembled at each flick, not expecting it to feel this good. He had touched himself, but he was untouched by others. The concubines were a fake, a show he put on to make him more believable, to make his facade the more believable.

He wanted to protest but his mouth did not move because his body was succumbing to what you were making him feel for the very first time. Your mouth went to his right nipple to give him the same attention you gave the left one and his back arched slightly off the bed, making you chuckle underneath your breath. You were loving his reactions, and he knew you were because your excitement could be detected through your arousal. He knew his bed sheets would have to be burnt in the morning… if he survived until then.

Your lips started trailing down as your body moved, crawling backwards as you kissed his navel, making him jerk from the sensation, goosebumps being displayed all over his arms and chest. You licked around his belly button, and he whined at the strange feeling, not knowing he was sensitive in that area at all, but then his eyes widened when he felt your body wiggling itself in between his legs, trying to spread them apart but he did his best to keep them closed.

A warning growl came from you and his body acted against his will as his legs spread open for you to finally slot yourself in the middle, your fingers hooking on the edge of his cloth and he held his breath in. The only one who had ever touched him there for inspection had been Caius to check on his health and overall look of it. His body trembled in anticipation, nerves, fear, excitement, lust - he no longer knew, yet, you didn’t pull his cloth down, your lips pressing against his left inner thigh.

Were you trying to calm him down?

He felt the air becoming lighter, as if a weight had been taken off his chest, a weight he didn’t know was there at all. He could breathe more easily now, and he realized you had released soothing pheromones in the air for him. He didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You looked like you were going to take what you wanted no matter what he said, yet you also acted like he was the most delicate flower there was.

“Calm.” It was authoritative, but not like the other times. He felt like there was no threat behind the voice, but rather a warm blanket of a caring emotion. He wanted to laugh at that statement. You had punched him in the stomach for him to stop struggling, there is nothing caring about this. Yet–

He gasped when you licked the slick that was stuck on his inner thighs, and a pleasured growl vibrated throughout the whole room. You were tasting him. Someone was tasting him for the very first time and he didn’t think this day would ever come. He assumed he would have died a virgin for the sole purpose to rule until the end of his days. Rule. He has to rule. His mind snapped back into reality for a second, finding his voice once again.

“Y– You can’t–” He didn’t want to stop, his body didn’t want you to stop, but what about the rest? Everything he struggled with, everything he had to do to be where he is right now, all being thrown down into a pit of snakes because of you, because of your goddamn existence.

“I can, I will and you won’t be able to stop screaming for me, Omega.” He snarled at the name, not wanting to be called that, he wasn’t used to it, no matter how right his body told him it was, his mind could not fathom it. Your fingers hooked on the edges of his cloth once more and you started taking them off, making him gulp loudly as he felt the coldness of the room hit him right on his wet cunt, sending shivers all over his body.

You had your eyes closed, nose flaring aggressively as you took off this piece of fabric. He saw you throwing the loincloth away, and you finally opened your eyes, staring at the untouched cavity no one had the pleasure to be in or taste before. A place that was never to be seen by others, touched, or defiled. Your breathing grew elaborate as you smelled him. You smelled the slick dripping down towards the crack of his ass and down to his robe that you never got to take off.

His eyes looked down towards your tunics, the tent still up, and his head started to wander. What size could it be? Do female Alphas have the same size? Smaller? Thinner? His curiosity is there, he wants to know, but he knows he shouldn’t because the moment he sees your member he is probably going to submit completely and he is not ready for that. Not yet.

“You are pretty. The gods have really blessed you with it.” Your voice was anything but sarcastic or with venom. It was honest, and you almost sounded drunk. He wiggled slightly underneath you, feeling the embarrassment of being watched so intensely for the first time. Watched with another intent than just giving him a medical check-up.

“S-Stop. I didn’t ask for it. If it were for me I would have never chosen it!” His voice was loud, high pitched, and his hands yanked once more, feeling his arms growing tired from being in the air for a while now. You were still looking down at his center, completely out of it, high off of his scent. You slowly bent down, laying on your stomach as you positioned your face right in front of his entrance. He was wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling, not knowing what to do in this situation.

He felt a cold air sharply brushing over his small cocklette. He looked down to see you blowing over him, sending shivers all over his body, and goosebumps on his legs and arms. You didn’t react to him, your mouth still agape as you stared at his core. You closed your eyes as you took a sharp intake of his smell, and then exhaled, opening your eyes again to lock them with his own. His breath hitched in his throat, wanting to fight back, wanting to push you off, but his body was betraying him. After all these years, his body is retaliating back.

He threw his head back when he felt your tongue sharply lick from the bottom of his slit, to the top, and then flick his cocklette in one movement. A gasp got stuck in his throat at the new sensation. What was that? He could have been feeling that all this while, and he was willing to never know about this for the sole purpose of keeping his throne?

Yes. Yes, he was.

“Stop–” He needed you to stop because if you didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from calling out to you. To call out for you.

“No. This is mine.” You said in a growl, surprising him with how possessive you sounded. How brutal that statement was, yet it wasn’t unpleasant to him even if he wanted to feel it was. Before he could answer, his back arched upwards, his mouth falling open as you started circling his cocklette with the tip of your tongue, to then take it into your mouth.

“Damn you–” He clenched his teeth together as he held in his sounds of pleasure, trying to focus on not enjoying it, focus on his throne, focus on rome. But it was hard to do when you were slurping him as if he were the ambrosia Demeter promised Demophon of Athens. And he was. To you he was even more than that, more delightful, as if you were tasting all constellations. You let go of his cocklette with a pop, drool already pooling at the corner of your mouth.

“You taste delightful… delicious… remarkable.” Your tongue lolled out to lick a strip all over his slicked up folds. His body trembled beneath you, your hands on his inner thighs to keep them separated, and for him to not have a surge of power and clamp them together over your head.

“Ngh–” He was holding back his moans, the more you licked, the more he sweat and the more scent he was exuding. He didn’t want to give in to the pleasure. He didn’t want to give in to you. He didn’t want to yet his body was reacting, and betraying him over and over again and he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop you. He couldn’t stop this.

You kept licking, tasting, ravishing him with your tongue in ways he never thought he would experience. This was never supposed to happen in his entire life and yet, there you were, between his legs, eating his biggest secret. And he was loving it. His body was absolutely ecstatic of feeling like this for the first time in its life and his mind was slipping away each lick of yours, each sucking on his cocklette.

He gasped as his back arched off the bed when your tongue entered him. He didn’t know what to think of it, feeling you inside, feeling something inside for the first time in his life aside from his own fingers. He whimpered as he felt you swirling around inside of him, your moans vibrating against his core, and he could hear your slurping as he felt more slick coming out of him.

You were addicted, and he could smell how much you were enjoying him. He wanted to hate it, hate the fact you were enjoying yourself so much, but no… he was so happy. He wanted to chirp for the first time in his life, knowing you… an Alpha, was aroused by pleasuring him. That you were finding him delicious. That you wanted to make him climb into those mountains of pleasure no one ever took him before, and much less reach the very peak of them.

You pulled away with a gasp for air, and he lifted his head to look down at you, seeing how you licked all over your lips, still looking at his center with blacked out eyes. His legs trembled as his belly twirled around with need for more, a rope that was slowly becoming tighter with the intent of snapping apart.

“The gods were so good to you… making you this delicious, and only for me to taste.” Your voice was sultry and as if you were not entirely there. It was low, with the hint of a purr in the background of it and Geta’s skin grew goosebumps because again, he was delighted to hear an Alpha purr for him. Yet, a bit of his rational mind, or what he thought was rational, remained.

“I never asked for it–” His eyes widened when he felt your middle finger running along his slit, wetting it with his slick. He tensed up, clenching on nothing as nerves and fear overtook him for a second, yanking on his arms once again. He felt you kiss his right inner thigh and then a purring voice.

“I am going to take care of you… relax.” His omega does as told instantly, relaxing for you as he slumped back on the bed, not knowing how tense his entire body got. You hummed in approval, pushing your finger in, slowly, letting him engulf you at his pace. His mouth fell agape, his head falling back on the pillow underneath him. He felt you invaded him, a stranger, and he should hate it. He should hate it just like he always thought he would have and yet, he wants to moan out your name.

He wants to call out for you.

His belly cramped in pleasure, and he heard a chuckle coming from you, but he didn’t have the strength in him to retort at you, or to snap like he always does. You let him adjust around your finger for a second before pulling out and pushing back in again. The feeling was foreign coming from another person, and much more when it was an Alpha. It was as if the pleasure was heightened. As if he had an aphrodisiac injected into him, and he could only blame his heat for this.

You started thrusting your middle finger in and out of him, and his body flushed all over, heat engulfing him from head to toe, burning him as if he were inside an iron bull. His eyes closed as he fought to keep his mouth closed, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his noises in. You felt him slick your finger, making it so easy to slip in and out of him, so you decided to add your ring finger, slowly, pushing it next to your other one and the Emperor gasped, a strangled small moan escaping him for the first time in the night.

“What a good Omega. If it feels good, you have to let yourself enjoy it, pretty one.” He whined at your words, but still he wanted to listen to you as you started pumping your fingers in and out of him. Small little pants escaped him as his body moved slightly, up and down on the bed thanks to your thrusts. The rope started getting tighter and he wanted to curse the hells for making his body this way. It was all because of your designations, it’s just because of that reason only.

His walls started fluttering around you, and his legs trembled, letting you feel the reaction with your free hand which was still gripping his inner thigh, nails digging into the flesh. Your hips were rubbing against the mattress below you, trying to get friction and your growls of need started vibrating on every single wall of the room. Your cock had fully come out, and you needed to knot the Omega below you before your semi-rut makes you go insane.

You curled your fingers upwards at the same time you engulfed his cocklette into your mouth, sucking eagerly and feeling some of his slick coming out of the tip of it. He let out a cry of pleasure as he felt something weird. It was different and it felt too good. You were rubbing something deep within him that he had never felt in his entire life. Was this his heat? It was making his belly cramp as his orgasm got closer and closer, ready to unravel him in front of you.

You kept slurping on him as your fingers increased their pace in short and quick movement, abusing that soft spot inside of him that was making him tremble underneath you, trying to move around, not knowing what to do with his body. He knew his scent was a mix of emotions, but he didn’t know what to think of this. It was a pleasure he never felt in his life, and his moans were now unrestrained, making you purr against him.

“W– What is– Oh, I’m–” You hummed against him, urging him to finally let go on you, to let himself get washed away in a tsunami of pleasure. A pleasure you are giving him.

The constellations flashed over his eyes as his back arched off the bed, his wrists yanking against the restraints as his thighs wanted to clamp on anything because he felt he was on fire down there, clamping around your fingers like a vice. His belly burnt and tightened as his climax crushed through him and his mouth opened, ready to call out for you for who you were. But his own gush of slick cut him off, surprising him as his cries were heard around the room.

You took everything he gave you from his cocklette, gulping it all down as you slowed your fingers, helping him ride his orgasm out. He was having some spasms as you felt him unclench around you, slowly pulling your mouth and fingers away from him. He let his body fall slump on the bed, and you saw how his chest went up and down with heavy breaths. You looked down at his center, your tongue licking all the slick that was coming out from his orgasm.

“So delicious, damn you…” You mumbled into him as he twitched, little whimpers of overstimulation escaping him. He felt his sight slowly coming back to him, and he didn’t understand why but… he wasn’t satisfied. His belly started hurting again and he realized that he wasn’t going to ever be until he was knotted. He needed a knot… your knot.

Your ministrations were cut off when you heard a small sob coming from above you. You immediately pulled away from him, crawling up his body, both hands now resting on each side of his head as you looked down at him. He was whining, tears running down his eyes, his charcoal liner leaving dark streaks from the corner and towards his ears. Your hand reached over, slowly touching his cheek only for him to hiss and shove his head away from you.

“You… You are just going to take it…” You tilted your head at him, confused. Your arousal was interrupted with worry and he didn’t understand why you were acting this way when all you wanted was to break him.

“Take it…? Your vir–”

“My throne. You– You are going to take my throne…” His tears started rolling down once again as he shook his head. “You are going to reveal who I am, and it will be over for me, and–”

He gasped when he felt your lips on his forehead, a surge of calmness washing over him. He could smell your scent, a warm and kind fire. The scent of lemongrass all around him, something he didn’t smell on you before. You pulled away as you shook your head at him, his mind reeling with confusion.

“I don’t want your throne.”

“What? Don’t you dare jester me–”

“I just want you, Omega. We are destined.” At those words, Geta’s eyebrows pinched right in the middle, not understanding what you were saying at all.

“What are you saying?” You chuckled, a genuine smile on your lips, despite all that hard exterior you had shown him all night and at the games, making his body tremble slightly underneath you.

“We are scent mates. You were the only scent in my life to trigger a small rut and it seems I am the only one who could trigger a heat on you, despite any method you took to avoid them and suppress them.”

The Emperor was stunned at your words. Was there something like that in the world? He never heard of it before, and Caius didn’t either because he didn’t find anything on that subject. Scent mates… then, it means he cannot leave you. He cannot kill you. He cannot make you leave because he doesn’t want to. He can’t.

“Y– You… how… I don’t– I don’t want to give up my throne–”

“And you won’t. Make me your second general in command. I am a very respected Alpha back in my city, and I have an army of three thousand barbarians.” He blinked a few times up at you, his mind blank as it slowly started filling with warmth and with some clarity. His hivemind started to take control of him the more he heard you talk.

“You want… to give me your army?” You nodded at that, your hand reaching out to rub his cheek once again and this time he didn’t pull away, letting you rub against his skin, his eyes closing as his chest warmed up to the feeling.

“Protecting you is my number one priority. If you want to rule as an Alpha or an Omega, it’s your choice, but I will stand behind you, not in front of you, my Omega. I would never forsake you.”

And his body felt as if it were laying on clouds. It felt as if he was enveloped in warm comforters crafted by the olympus with gold linen all over the seams. Your eyes showed honesty, and he could smell that you were in fact being truthful to him. Why didn’t you start with that? Why didn’t you begin with those words so he could fully enjoy you? To let him fully succumb to this heat and the need to mate with you?

“Protect me… Alpha.” He saw your body tremble, a strangled moan choking you up as he saw your eyes turn deep black once again. “Untie me.”

You looked down at him for a few seconds, your breaths starting to become heavier as your mind started slipping away into a knothead rut. You managed to let a shaky breath out of your lips as your hands reached over to untie him, struggling a little thanks to the trembling of your fingers. His gaze was stuck on your face, his chest going up and down as he breathed heavily, feeling the string of his robe coming undone, his wrists burning from the friction, but he no longer cared.

His arms immediately wrapped around your shoulders, his face flushing with rosy cheeks as you looked down on him. He didn’t know what to do, but his instincts were telling him to try and lunge forward, do something, and gladly, you realized and took that initiative for him. Your lips clashed on his and he immediately whimpered in ecstasy, feeling a current of electricity running through his bones as your arms wrapped around him.

His hands started going down towards your neck, feeling how hot your skin was, basking on being able to finally touch you. Your lips moved desperately on eachother, sloppy, messy, filled with drool and tongue. It makes your length twitch underneath your tunics, making you groan. Your hips connected with his middle, and you both moaned into each other’s mouths as you started slowly swaying back and forth on him.

He could feel you. It was big from what he could guess, and his core slicked all over at the thought of getting knotted by you. Never in his life he thought he would hear those words in his head. His cocklette was being rubbed in the most delicious of ways, making him whimper and groan in your mouth. Your moans were sweet, deep, and in need, and he cannot believe his destined Alpha would be a woman. He never thought of the possibility of there ever being a destined person, or a scent mate in his life. He was never taught that or no one ever gave him a slight mention of it.

But it seems that’s because of royalty. You came from a city filled with legends, old tales, no one to rule over you. A community being a community. He doesn’t understand it.

You pulled away from him, kneeling up and undoing the string in the middle of your tunics. He was staring at you, rising up on his elbows to take a better look at you as you pulled the fabric up and away from you, revealing you had no underwear on yourself. That’s why he could feel you so harshly. His eyes widened when he saw you, all ready, throbbing, hard, large, and with precum coming out of your tip.

And his mouth salivated.

He whimpered as his eyes turned glossy, fully sitting up, his body acting on pure impulse and desire. He leaned forward, tongue lolling out, to tentatively lick the tip of your lenght. You choked on a growl, both hands coming to cover your mouth. He could sense the spike of arousal in you, and he could taste it on his tongue as more precum oozed out of you. He smirked, looking up at you while his hand engulfed your base.

“So pretty for me, Alpha.” And you were. You were beautiful. Your breasts, your perky nipples waiting for his mouth, for his touch. Your pupils completely engulfing the irises of your eyes. You were perfect. A perfect Alpha and just for him. He saw you shiver and he heard you whimper for the first time in the night, the roles reversing for a split second.

“Please…” You moaned out, and he looked back down at your throbbing shaft that bobbed for attention on his face. He didn’t know how to do this. He wasn’t skilled, he had no experience, but god, does he want to satisfy his Alpha with everything he has in him. He moved forward again as you stayed kneeled up, his hands coming to grip your backside as he kissed the tip of your length.

You couldn’t help the moan with his name on your lips as he kept giving kisses and tentative licks to it. His hands went upwards to hold onto your breasts, a moan escaping him as he felt your nipples on his palms. He fondled them, basking on them, worshipping the first pair of breasts he ever touched without any fabric or coverage on them. He often did it to his ‘concubines’ to keep appearances, but never touched them raw like he is now and he is loving it. His kisses traveled along the length, reaching your base and you shivered as you let your hands drop to your sides again as your head fell backwards.

You smelled so good to him, making more of his juices gush out of him, staining the robe beneath him and probably seeping through it and down to his sheets. Now he doesn’t want to burn them at all. He wants to keep them unwashed for days, or weeks, just so he can smell you every minute and hour of the day. He got your nipples in between his index fingers and thumbs, pinching and rolling them as he felt you jerk slightly on his grasp.

He finally opened his mouth to take the tip of your shaft into his mouth, the head of it feeling excellent on his tongue as he swirled it around. You whined as your hand went to the back of his head, running your fingers through his ginger hair as you basked on how good he looked doing this to you. Suddenly, he whined as a cramp kicked in his belly, making him pull away from you, his hands coming to rest on it.

Your arousal got interrupted as worry for your Omega took over, your free hand coming to hold his cheek so he could look up at you. He had a tear running down his face as his face reddened in need.

“I– I don’t know– Something is missing–”

“Your nest, my sun. Your nest is missing.” You instantly pulled away from him, a desperate whine escaping him as you stepped off from the bed to grab your tunic again, crawling towards him again, handing the garment to him. “Smell this.”

He did as instructed, his hands snatching your tunic away, his nose dipping into the filthy cloth only for your scent to fill his lungs. He moaned at it, his head whipping behind him to look at his pillows. He shrugged his robe off, moving in order to get it off from under him as well, and he placed it on one side of his pillow, while your tunic was put on the other side. His belly uncramped slightly, but it was hungry for more.

He kneeled up, turning around to see you again and he had to look down slightly to be able to meet your gaze. He was panting as his whimpers were coming out of his mouth, not being able to control them. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to him, your shaft in between the both of you, smearing your own seed on his body.

“Please… I–” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss. He moaned into it, his palms flat all over your back, touching everywhere he could as you two kissed fervently.

‘Submit.’

He pulled away, laying back down on the bed, spreading his legs to reveal his wet center to you and his hand was raised for you to take it. You took it and he pulled you into him, falling in between his legs, your chest hitting his. Your lips found his jaw, kissing it gently and you could hear him whimper as his hips canted upwards onto your length, making you hiss.

“I will take care of you. I’ll make the pain go away, Omega.” And Geta purred, for the first time in his life. He had never purred, not even for his own mother or brother. He had denied his designation since the first minute, and he denied having any omega behaviour, even as small as a whine.

It felt good.

Your eyes widened at the sound, your shaft now slickened up thanks to rubbing it up and down his folds and against his cocklette. Your canines elongated as a deep growl in delight, assimilating a purr, vibrated in your throat. Your hips went backwards and your tip caught onto his entrance, making his breath hitch. His hands were on your waist, while yours were caging his head against the bed.

“I’m ready, my Alpha.” You shivered at the sound of that. My. Mine. Yes, it sounded right. You started pushing forward, slowly, torturous for you, but new to him. His eyes widened as he threw his head back onto the pillows, tilting his head to where your tunic was for your scent to fill his nostrils. He couldn’t find his voice as you kept splitting him open, feeling this new intrusion inside of him, a much bigger one.

“Relax, my sun. You need to relax for me…” He tried to let go of the air he was holding in, slowly, trying to get his breathing under control. Your lips connected to his neck, giving it soft pecks as he felt your hot breath on his skin. That made him relax, untense, his body falling deeper into his soft bed. The moment he unclenched on you, you kept going, breaching him open as his digits dug into your waist.

He felt himself shaking as he felt the extreme pleasure running all over his limbs, as well as the pain of the loss of his virginity. But you were being so careful with him, and he felt protected by you. A gift sent by the gods themselves. He didn’t know you were thinking the exact same thing, and now you didn’t feel any sadness towards your city. The invasion caused you to meet him, it caused you to finally reach him and be where you are now.

He choked on his spit when there was some strain as you were about to bottom out in him. It was painful, making him hiss at the pain, but his belly was screaming for you to break it. It needed you to break it. It was just one more little push, one more little thrust and his purity will be long gone. Your eyes locked with his, and he saw how fast your breathing was, how flushed you looked, how much you were holding yourself back with him, even in a semi-rut. He gave you one nod and–

“Damn–!” He cried out as you gave one strong thrust, finally getting through the restraint. You let out a breath, choking on it as you took another in, shaking as you did while looking down at where you two were connected, pelvis to pelvis. His eyes were closed as he tried to adjust to you, thinking it was going to be impossible but it was becoming so easy as he kept letting his strangled breaths out.

You couldn’t begin to explain what you were feeling. It was as if you solved the logical explanation of a long lost legend. As if you’ve won a war that would give you everything you’ve ever wanted. And for the Emperor, he felt like conquering something more than Rome, than all the cities around him. You were more than anything he ever put his power onto.

Your eyes met his, his right hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you down into a kiss that made you twitch inside of him, and he felt the first sweat of pleasure all over his body, making him moan into your mouth. He pulled away from you, keeping his nose against yours as he looked into your eyes.

“Move.” He commanded, the roles now reversed, and you didn’t mind it at all. Your hips went backwards, and he groaned as he looked down where you were connecting with him as you slowly pushed back in. His face contorted into a pleasured one in an instant as he felt you against his walls, making him look into your eyes again. Your jaw was clenched, setting a slow pace on him to accustom him to the feeling.

He started letting out soft breaths as the pleasure grew more intense the more you thrusted into him. It felt like he was slowly losing himself, his mind telling him things he never thought of before. Mating. Breeding. Him pregnant with your pups. His round belly as he looked at himself in the mirror. He wondered if your thoughts were going in the same direction as his.

“You feel so good, my Omega.” He flustered at that, his mouth opening to let out a moan as you quickened the pace, and his fingers dug into the back of your neck and your side. He started feeling his belly turn in delight, more slick than ever coming out of him and around you, smearing all of his sheets and your pelvis and thighs.

“More– More–” He couldn’t recognize his desperate voice, feeling a need like never before. You kneeled up with a groan, getting hold of his knees as his hands fell to his sides. He was confused as he panted only for his eyes to widen when you started moving rougher, your hips now snapping against his, and he heard the skin slapping, his core squelching thanks to how much slick he produced.

You were moaning, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, and his cries for you grew louder, calling out your name, a new prayer in his lips. He felt himself burning, his body just engulfed in flames as if Hell had sucked him in for punishment. He felt you going in and out of him, your hips angling at one point and–

He gasped as a whimper followed when he felt that sweet spot being hit by your tip once more. He didn’t care what it was anymore, just that it felt divine. His hands gripped the sheets below him as you kept that rough pace, sweat all over your body, nails digging into his knees as you kept his legs spread for you. He was crying out for you, looking at you through hooded lids, tears of pleasure running down the sides of his face as drool pooled on the corner of his mouth.

“So pretty, Omega. My Omega. My beautiful, powerful Omega.” Oh, he loved the sound of that, his core fluttering around your length, making your hips stutter slightly before continuing your pace with a growl. His belly needed more, but he didn’t know how to get it, or what that more was. He just needed it, making him whimper in the middle of his moans.

“Alpha– I don’t– I need more–!” You nodded, your right hand leaving his knee, moving in between the two of you to get hold of his cocklette. His back arched as he cried out when you started rubbing him, your hand squeezing lightly to cause friction as you kept slamming your hips against his. He felt his belly turning and turning, the threat of an orgasm approaching him as his nails dug into his mattress.

You moaned out his name, over and over again, feeling him clench and unclench around you. There was fire between the both of you, the air around you musky, filled with the scent of sin, of beautiful sin. He didn’t want this smell to leave his room now. Not ever. His body moved back and forth as your skin slapped over and over, feeling you deep within him, and he swore you were hitting his belly.

But you kept abusing that soft place in him, making his entire body tremble in anticipation as he felt himself being lifted into clouds the more you railed into him. His moans started coming out choked, his breaths were stuttering as he tried taking deep ones in. His body was red in color as you looked down on him, your hand moving faster on his cocklette, your mouth watering at the sight before you.

“Let go, my lord. Let go, Omega.” And that he did. His eyes clenched shut as his walls tightened all around you, making you stop your hips, a choke coming out of your lips. He couldn’t find his voice as he shook underneath you, his back arched, his neck all red as he couldn’t help throwing his head back. It was a strong orgasm, and it was so good doing it around your shaft. It felt too good. He finally cried out your name as his belly kept fluttering, the orgasm ongoing.

You were breathing heavily as his back touched the bed again, and you stopped the movement of your hips, trying to catch your breath as he finally unclenched around you. He was panting as he kept his eyes closed, trying to regain some consciousness as his mind kept reeling with you, some rationality seeping through that was making him think of the future.

He saw you choking on your breaths as your hands landed on his chest to hold yourself up, the hand that stroked your cocklette smeared with the small spurt of slick that came out of it. You hissed when you felt the burning starting to happen at the base of your length. You pulled your hips back and moved back in, your name coming out of his mouth as his hands went up to cradle your face.

He wanted it. He needed it. So he started begging.

“Please– Please–” He pleaded for you and you shivered on top of him as you moved your hips once again, setting a normal pace, because if you went rough you would not be able to control your hivemind, already feeling your canines wanting to elongate inside your mouth.

“I– I won’t knot you, my lord.”

His eyes widened, a loud whine escaping his throat, eyebrows meeting in the middle with pure sadness. What did you mean? Why not? Why?

“What–? What– no! I order you–!” His voice was strained as your hips stilled, just half of your length in, and he knew your knot was slowly inflating because he could feel a different thickness trying to enter him. He whined when he felt it and you were not pushing it in, not wanting to lock inside of him.

“I– If I knot you, I will mate you. I will bite you– I– I don’t want to make my Omega unhappy, and if ruling makes you happy– Biting you means you will live as an Omega.”

He now understood what you meant. You really wanted him to keep ruling, and for that he would have to give up the idea of ever mating you, knowing that at one point he would be pregnant with your pups. Everyone will know he is an Omega… the entirety of Rome will rise against him. Probably even kill him for the deception to the whole community… yet–

“Protect me. You told me you would protect me… I want to keep ruling with your bite on my neck.” His face was twisted as he grinned up at you, wickedness displayed in his features, ideas brewing in his head that the more he thought of, the more he enjoyed. You saw the shift in Geta’s gaze. He had come up with a plan.

“Are you sure?” Your gaze turned dark, thoughts of protecting your omega against everything and everyone, blood on your hands as you ripped open skulls, pushed eyes into their sockets… Yes, you enjoyed the mere idea of killing for the emperor. For your Omega.

“Mercy– I beg you– I want it–” He whined now, tears spilling from his eyes as his hips tried to move towards you, wanting you back inside of him. “Have mercy on me, Alpha.”

And suddenly, he saw that smirk of yours that he saw the first time. It was evil, filled with dark emotions that he himself has inside. You kneeled up again as you raised your hand towards him, your thumb in the middle. He watched expectantly, the heat in his body rising to extraordinary levels as the anticipation was killing him from inside out.

“If tyranny is what my Omega wants… Tyranny is what you are going to get.”

And you turned your thumb upwards.

The crowd was cheering loudly as the gladiators fought on the field below.

Caracalla was laughing, clapping as he looked back at General Acacius, but the man’s eyes were fixated on the person on his left, the one that was behind the other throne.

You were standing tall as one of your hands rested at the top of the throne while the other was being gripped by your Omega’s hand, over his right shoulder. Your attire had changed into a general’s. You were wearing golden gear, with a red cape hanging from your shoulders. Women never wore these attires, much less, women didn’t go to war, even those who were Alphas. You were the exception at the Emperor’s orders.

When you two mated two months ago, you had sworn you would protect Geta, at any cost. That he will rule, even if the people and the council found out he was an omega. But before that, you two had to pay some people a visit. The council.

The moment Geta walked in with you right behind him, all the men in the room winced in disgust, getting up from their seats as the emperor sat next to his brother who was shocked, his mouth agape as he smelled his sibling. You walked to stand next to him, your eyes filled with the intent of murder, with the thirst of blood, which made the men in the room sit back down, slowly, and against their will.

“I have deceived you all. As you can smell, I am not an Alpha. I never have been, but I plan to keep ruling as an omega… I have been for years now, you all didn’t notice. It doesn’t change anything.” At that, all the men in the room started yelling, Alphas and Betas pointing fingers at the emperor, and you wanted to growl loudly, warn them to not overstep, but Geta held your hand, noticing how angry you had gotten. The men fell silent as they saw the gesture, now looking at you.

“You have been mated.” One of them said, and Geta nodded with confidence. His brother smiled and clapped in excitement, making him look at Caracalla with surprise in his features.

“A mate! A mate! Everyone rejoice!” Geta smiled with teeth, feeling his belly turn with excitement, squeezing your hand in the process. Your chest puffed up with pride, a nod towards Caracalla in appreciation, even if you knew his dementia had gotten the best of him, he never stopped feeling happy for his brother.

“UNACCEPTABLE!” Your head and Geta’s turned to look at the man at the back, an Alpha, getting up from his seat as he walked to the middle of the room, facing the emperors and yourself. “Rome has never been ruled by an Omega and never will! Omegas are at the bottom of the class chart, and you are no exception! Demoted! BEHEADED! You must be demoted–”

Before he could finish his sentence, his head was falling to the floor. Everyone sat in silence as they shivered, some peed themselves in fear, and even Alphas were about to whimper as they looked at the sword that was dripping blood and then at the bearer of it. Your eyes were looking at how the headless body now fell to the floor, your eyes moving upwards to the council in front of you.

“The moment you touch one single hair of his… is the moment I kill your kin in front of your eyes, and I shove their guts down your throats.” The men in the room stayed silent, even the women who served as concubines and servers who stood in a corner of the room. Your eyes scanned everyone as you raised the bloodied sword to them.

“This–” A man tried to respond, but your eyes dug deep into his skull before he could finish.

“Emperor Geta will rule Rome. My army is already on its way here, an army of 3,000 men and women. Barbarians that the only way they know to fight is to rip the intestines raw from your stomachs and strangle you with them.” You lowered your sword as you turned to look at everyone in the room. “The moment you do something to him, is the moment I burn Rome down. No man, woman, child, baby, or dog will be spared. There will be nothing left to rule.”

The room stayed silent for just a few seconds before one of the men raised his hand up in acceptance and surrender. The rest followed through.

The people were not happy, but as they saw your soldiers on the street, witnessing how vicious they were to whoever protested, they calmed down. They have swallowed the fact an Omega is now ruling Rome, their home, fearing for their lives. Nobody had ever tried to take Geta down. Not when you are standing right behind him every second of every day, like his own personal shadow.

“I have one more surprise for you, my love.” You whispered into Geta’s ear, and he smiled as he got up from his chair, seeing all the gladiators now dead on the ring thanks to your men. Guts were all over the dirt as if a painter had done marvelous work. Your men stood in a wide circle as a gate opened, a figure walking in, stumbling. Geta’s eyes widened as he turned to look at you. “I may have kept him alive and lied to you about his departure to savor this moment.”

The Emperor looked back to the field, a small smile appearing on his lips as the crowd remained quiet. Caius stood in the middle of the field, beard now on his features, much more skinnier, bruises on his skin and a sack of potatoes as his only clothes. He looked up at the emperor with tears rolling down his eyes.

“Just for me…”

“He locked you in, intending to murder you. You and I were lucky that the Alpha in that room was me, my sun.” Geta turned around to face you, leaning down to place an appreciative kiss on your lips. Displays of affection were not something common and were frowned upon for indecency, but he couldn’t help himself, and he was the emperor. He could do whatever he pleased. You moaned into the kiss, and he pulled away with a smile, turning around once more, looking down at the doctor who had betrayed him months back.

“Mercy… I ask for mercy, please!” He begged. Mercy? Geta's top lip twitched as he snarled at the man, his right hand coming to rest on his belly. His left hand raised up, thumb right in the middle as you stood behind him. There was no shakiness in his hand. This is Rome. Your Omega’s rome. And you will defend it and him until the day you perish.

And Geta’s finger turned downwards.

the end

a/n: look, i did say the demons won, and this is not everyone's cup of tea, i do know this, but this man is not an alpha. also, a reblog helps

i will tag a few people that interacted with the geta posts: @keeryhours @doomsdaybby @userchai @xgrxcefulx

dividers by @saradika-graphics, banner by me.

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