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trulyumai · 4 months ago

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unfit and disloyal

Pairing: Emperor Geta / Wife! Reader

Synopsis: Seeing your husband get so close with another woman, you confront him. But such an accusation of disloyalty makes anger swell up bubble beneath his skin. Until eventually it oozes out and onto you, his darling wife.

Warnings: Geta gets violent, angry.

A/N: This was highly requested, thank you all so much for the messages and comments!

A glass was thrown, shattered against the back wall of the chamber. Geta let out a surprised cry, still bent towards the ground in the quick action that fled his senses. He had expected a hug, maybe a kiss of welcome from his pretty wife.

“You idiot—you fool! You... you—!”

Another cup was already in your hands, and Geta barely made it behind a merciful beam that splayed out in the middle of the room.

“What are you doing, wife?!” Geta’s voice was hoarse with confusion as he peered from behind the pillar, his chest rising and falling from the sudden burst of chaos. He had prepared himself for an evening of peace after the long day—he had not been ready for war within his own walls. Where was his sweet wife to dote on him? To kiss and smother his face with little pecks, to hug his frame like it was the missing piece you were waiting for?

“What am I doing?" you snarled. "What am I doing?" Your hands shook with fury as dainty fingers fumbled for another object to throw. Your eyes, usually soft and full of warmth, were now blazing with a fire he had never seen before. “You dare to ask me that when I saw you with her? You let her touch you, let her throw herself on you like—like a dog in heat!”

Geta’s brow furrowed as he tried to recall how you could have come to such a conclusion. Woman? What woman? He was with you all night! The only time he wasn’t was when you had stepped away after the dessert had been devoured, kissing his cheek as you uttered a tired departure.

He meant to follow, but decided to finish his goblet first��and then it hit him. The realization sank in. The woman who had placed herself upon his knee, whispered generous actions and promises without batting an eye.

"Her? You mean the woman at the celebration?" He stepped out from behind the beam cautiously, raising his hands in surrender. A laugh already escaping him from such a deluded thought. “She meant nothing. Less than nothing. She was dealt with, pretty wife, without a second thought!”

You scoffed, laughter bitter and sharp. "Nothing? You looked like you were enjoying yourself, while I stood there, watching, like a fool. And in front of the citizens... Have you no shame, husband?" The words were spat with venom, the kind of harshness only Geta had spoken with before.

Geta’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “You left before you saw what happened next. I pushed her off the moment you turned away, threw her to the ground like the vermin she was for daring to disrespect you.” He took a step closer, trying to close the distance between you. “I grabbed her by the face and told her to remember her place—unless she wished to be charged with treason. Wife, trust me, I beg of you.”

Your grip faltered, and the third cup clattered to the floor. Your breathing was uneven, the anger mingling with something else now—uncertainty. “Then why didn’t you stop her sooner? Why did you let her touch you in the first place? Why bestow such a public betrayal onto me?”

Geta’s shoulders sagged. He was exhausted, emotionally worn from the day’s battles, and now here he was, fighting the one person he loved most. The shift in the air was palpable now, the sting of your words pressing further into his skin. The thought of you doubting him, even for a moment, sparked something darker within him. His eyes darkened, and his fists clenched at his sides.

“You accuse me of betrayal?” His voice, though low at first, began to rise, sharp and jagged as he stepped closer, each footfall deliberate. “You think I’d ever choose someone else over you?” The fury in his tone rattled the air between you, and his body towered over yours now, his shadow swallowing the small frame you stood in.

His breath came fast and heavy as he drew closer, his face inches from yours. “Do you know what kind of man you married? The kind who would crush anyone who dared stand between us!” His words came like thunder, reverberating against the stone walls, spit flying from his mouth in his rage. “I've killed men, burned them at the stake, slit their throats for weaker words. Yet you still sit there.. And look at me with such animosity, hm?”

Your body recoiled instinctively, shrinking away from his imposing presence. For the first time, there was fear in your eyes—fear of him. Geta’s breath hitched at the sight of you trembling beneath his gaze. He froze, his fury draining as quickly as it had flared. He blinked, his body suddenly stiff as realization set in.

He had never meant to frighten you.

“I didn’t...” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair, his jaw still clenched tight. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stood frozen, still shaken, your breath shallow. Geta took a step back, releasing a slow breath as he fought to control himself, his fists relaxing at his sides. “Pretty wife, listen to me,” he rasped, voice now gentler, though it trembled. “I was angry. But not at you. Never at you.”

“But you said-”

“I know.” He interrupted, already regret bit at the seams of his mind. He didn't need a reminder.

Ringed fingers reached for your cheek, gently wiping away the spit that had landed on your skin. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” His voice was soft, desperate, as though each word were pulling him further from the edge of the abyss he had been teetering on.

You looked at him, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “I saw you with her,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And for a moment, I believed it. All the rumors. The lies. I believed you had chosen someone else.”

Geta’s heart clenched. He could see it now—how fragile your faith had become. He stepped closer, cupping your face with his large, calloused hands. “Never,” he breathed. “There is no one else for me. There never will be.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Then why does it feel like I’m always competing with the world for you?”

His chest tightened, the weight of your words sinking in. “You aren’t competing. There’s no contest. I may belong to Rome, to the battlefield, to the politics of the Empire... but my heart, my soul, they belong to you.”

You searched his face for a long moment, and the anger finally faded, giving way to vulnerability. Letting out a shaky breath, you leaned into his chest, your voice small and muffled against his tunic. “I'm sorry, husband.”

Geta wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His chin rested on top of your head as he whispered, “It's okay.”

He breathed in your scent, sweet and intoxicating to his overburdened mind.

“It's okay.”

#emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #gladiator x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator #gladiator 2 #x you #x reader

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tashibum · 1 month ago

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To Own, But Not To Share (IV)

Part 1&2 Part 3

Emperor Geta x Female Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Geta admit your true feelings to each other

Chapter Warnings: SMUT, 18+, light choking, dirty talk, spooning sex, cumshot, slave to fiancee?? 4.1k words. Read on AO3

The L Word

His feelings for you were not fitting for an emperor. With his power, he should take things by force and have no mercy.

Yet, he found himself at a temple once a week, on his knees praying. The same god that gave him you, he prayed to Cupid that his arrow would strike your heart as well. Geta gave offerings of cows and sheep to please him. Anything the god wanted, he would supply him with.

Geta could just claim you as his. No one could say no to him, you would have no choice. You could be ordered to say the words “I love you” back to him when he said them. You could fake your happiness to him and the Roman people.

But Geta wanted the true feeling. Such a shame it’s the one thing he could not buy or force.

He granted you your own chambers within the palace. Privacy was something you had never had before. Your family home was small, and then becoming a slave meant you had even less. In your chambers you could shut the door and no one would disturb you. Geta made sure to let everyone know that he was the only person who could open the door without knocking.

In your room, Geta sent all your clothes and jewellery to be placed in your wardrobe and dressing table. All of these possessions were what he had given you, and you were aware he could take it all away from you if you displeased him. Slaves were not meant to own anything. They were meant to be owned.

Your prized possession was one of Geta’s robes. He had left it behind one night and instead of informing a maid, you hid it. When you slept alone, you would take it out from within your dresses and hold it as you slept. You told yourself not to develop feelings for him, you were simply his favourite at that given time. You were sure once more time passed, he would grow bored of you and want someone younger, skinnier and sexier.

When the emperors met with the senates, you spent your time replenishing Geta and Caracalla’s goblets with wine. Geta had made it clear that you would not be leaning your body over any of the senates, there were other slaves that could do that.

“Is she a woman or a witch?” Caracalla asked his brother from beside him, looking over at you at the edge of the room. Dundus sat on his shoulder and ate the occasional grape he held up for him.

Geta gave a confused look. “A woman. What would make you think she has sorcery?”

“She has bewitched you. She is a slave, yet you give her unfair privileges. Jewels that are ours, you give to her.”

Geta was pleased his brother got straight to the point. His issue with you was that you were being given things Caracalla thought to be his.

“Her role as a slave has changed,” Geta put bluntly. He had not informed you of any change, yet knew you must have known something was going on.

“To what? Chief of staff?” His brother huffed mockingly.

“She…….”, Geta paused, thinking of how to word his strong emotions.

“You like her, don’t you? More than you should.” Caracalla had stuck in the knife; now he was going to twist it. “You are her owner. You literally bought her, brother. She sees you as nothing more than that.”

Geta shook his head. While he did not know if your feelings matched his in intensity, he knew, at the very least, you liked him.

“You are an emperor. Weakness like this should have you de-throned,” provoked Caracalla.

“I will court her,” defended Geta, unsure of himself.

“Oh, she will become an Empress of Rome? That really is a promotion! Need I remind you that emperors do not marry plebeians. She is below you. And her cunt isn’t that impressive,” Caracalla remarked from the time he fucked you.

Geta’s hand immediately rose and slapped his brother hard across the face, causing Dundas to hide behind Caracalla’s head.

The room went silent, all eyes now facing the twin emperors. Geta stood up and walked out of the room, his footsteps the only sound anyone could hear. You wanted to follow him to make sure he was okay, but knew better of it. It would be above your station.

Caracalla looked at you from across the room and patted the now vacant space next to him. You could not defy him, so went over, still holding a jug of wine to show him you would not stay with him for long.

“You’ve been promoted,” he declared.

“To what?” You timidly asked, not knowing if the smaller brother was being serious or not.

“Geta’s personal sex aid.”

And with that, you knew he was not serious.

“I do not see the appeal,” he tried to spite. He was hurt because you rejected him and favoured his brother. He would have been happy to share you if you wanted, but that first day put a sour taste in his mouth. The way you moaned for his brother, but was so hesitant and frigid for him.

You did not care though, you did not see any appeal in him either.

“I’ve felt your hole - I’ve felt better. Unless I have not felt the hole he favours.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, as though he wanted something he had been missing out on. The raspiness of his voice added to his perverted suggestion.

The thought made you tense up. Geta had done nothing to your other hole. The closest he had ever gotten to it was when he had been licking you, and his mouth went too low by mistake.

You stared at the door, trying to avoid looking the emperor in the eye after making such a remark, hoping that Geta would come in and rescue you from further embarrassment.

“I’ve been told I have more girth than him,” he bragged.

Please Geta. Please. You silently begged, not even knowing if he had left the building not to return. You did not want to speak to Caracalla about his cock in his attempt to seduce you.

“At the right angle, it can make women gush their sweet juices.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you up. A spontaneous death seemed sweeter than hearing Caracalla speak of such things.

Then, finally, Geta returned to the room after cooling down, but got riled right back up again when he saw you with him.

“You better go,” Caracalla justified, knowing his brother's territorial nature over you.

You walked away from him and Geta caught your arm as you passed him. He tugged you out of the room with him again and lead you into an empty corridor.

“What did he say?” He demanded. This close to his face, you could see his cheeks redden. He was terrified that his brother had said something to you about his feelings for you. He knew his brother would love to embarrass him and tell you that he loved you.

“Nothing,” you dismissed.

"Tell me!” He challenged, rage overtaking him again.

"He told me I was your sex toy. Then told me the size of his disgusting length,” you explained.

Geta’s demeanour cooled instantly. “I was worried he had filled your head with lies.”

You took ahold of his jaw and leant up to give him a gentle, sweet kiss. You then leant your head on him. As your fingers stroked his cheek, his hand rested on top of yours against his face.

“Of course not. His words mean nothing to me,” you comforted.

Geta pushed you off him to hold your face in his hands. He had never felt like this about someone before. As he stared into your eyes, the feeling in his abdomen returned. It was where Cupid had shot him before. Cupid did not need to use another arrow on him, Geta needed him to change his target to you. Then the thought occurred in his mind that maybe he felt this sensation because Cupid had just shot you, and it was his way of informing Geta. How Geta wished the Gods spoke to him in words and not riddles!

“Give me the jug. You can go back home to the palace to relax,” he requested. The thought suddenly appeared that you were working, and it upset him. Geta was sure of it now, you were going to be future Empress of Rome, and women of such status did not work.

You did not question him on his motives, but just gave him a smile as you headed to the horse and carriage waiting outside.

“Where is she?” Caracalla asked as Geta rejoined him to discuss politics.

“I thought I would drink straight from the jug,” he dismissed, reeling from how Caracalla spoke to his soon-to-be wife.

The following night he told you he had plans with you. You asked for more information, but he smirked, wanting it to be a surprise. Whatever it was, it required maidens fully prepping you for it. You were washed, shaved and had makeup put on. The anticipation made you sick with anxiety.

You were grateful when he finally said you were not leaving the grounds of the palace, not in the mood for social diplomacy. He held your hand has he lead you around the palace and when the doors to the gardens opened, your jaw hit the floor.

Candles lit a path towards the centre of the lawn where more candles were laid out in a heart shape. Inside the heart was a blanket and pillows. You were speechless by his romantic gesture. Geta had ordered complete privacy, so no one saw him in this vulnerable state. Tonight was the night he was going to tell you he loved you, so wanted everything to be perfect. He had to tell you sooner rather than later in fear his brother would beat him to it.

He held your hand as you lowered yourself onto the blanket. You sat crosslegged until Geta pulled you to lay on your back next to him. You rested your heads on the pillows and stared up into the night sky. With it being late at night, you held onto his arm as a source of warmth.

“The Gods have been so gracious to me,” Geta reflected. You could not share his optimism. A life enslaved was not something you were thankful for. You guessed you could be thankful to Fortuna for being bought by Geta and not someone else who would have abused you.

“You have a blessed life, Emperor,” you agreed.

Geta sat up and turned to you. “More than that. Venus and Cupid work in tandem up there,” he explained and pointed to the sky. “I never thought love to be true, until I met you.”

Your eyes went wide with the meaning of his words. He was thankful to the love gods for you. It made your eyes well up with tears. Was this an admission of love?

“I accepted my fate that I would be married to a princess from another land, all to strengthen Rome’s alliances. After all, marriage and love are not connected. However, spending time with you, it has made me desire both,” he cooed.

“I’m sure your future bride will be very grateful,” you encouraged. He wanted a wife, and you knew it could never be you. He was destined to marry a princess or a duchess. Definitely not a woman who fell into the slave trade as a teenager. You saw a different side to the emperor than everyone else. While others saw him as selfish and cruel, you only saw gentle softness. His words were so delicate that it was hard to keep your emotional distance. Everything about him was magnetic to you, but you tried to not be sucked in. It would hurt to much when he inevitably moved on.

You didn’t understand him, so he said it nice and simple for you, “I love you.” He looked like he was about to cry.

Three words, just three words, but they were huge. Bigger than you could properly comprehend. If he loved you, it would mean everything in your life would change again. You would go from being a nobody, to being respected and feared by the empire.

This meant you could stop your refrain. You could put down your walls and accept the feelings you repressed.

It had been silent for a few moments, and Geta got nervous that you would reject him. But you needed time to collate your words.

“I feel myself……..falling for you more everyday.”

It wasn’t those magical three words that Geta dreamt of you saying, but it was confirmation that it would come.

“Well, when you feel it, don’t hesitate to tell me,” he urged, and laid back down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you against him.

“I’m sorry we met in such circumstances,” he whispered, oozing genuine sorrow. “You never deserved to be enslaved, by anyone.”

“I’m one of the lucky ones, but thousands of people out there still suffer. You must know what your subjects live through,” you commiserated. You thought back on all the conversations you’d had with the emperor, and couldn’t think of a discussion on Roman life. You knew everyone in Rome hated the Emperors, you’d hear your owners talk about it. They had little food, which meant you had even less.

“Of course there are people envious of the power and belongings I have,” he dismissed. You couldn’t tell if he was avoiding your criticism or genuinely did not know how tough life was for a Roman.

“If you want the public’s perception of you to be positive, maybe you could hand out food. Or end the public executions,” you suggested warily. No one was allowed to critique the emperors, it could end in your own public execution.

“Not even my wife yet and you’re bossing me around,” he joked, completely dismissing your serious proposal.

You didn’t know why you even bothered - even if you convinced him, Caracalla would never budge. So, you tried to push away the thoughts of how much everyone hated the man you desired.

“I would not be a virgin bride,” you argued.

“You will be a born again virgin on our wedding night,” he said, as though he had already thought over every detail of your wedding.

“Shall we abstain until then?” You questioned suggestively.

“Absolutely not. The gods do not wish that from us,” responded Geta.

You moved even closer to him in his arms. He was not hard under his toga, it helped you believe that he wanted you for you, and not just your body. He was content laying out here stargazing with you, he did not need to have sex with you to enjoy your company.

He walked you back inside with his arm wrapped around your hips.

“Do you want to stay in my chambers tonight, or yours?” He asked.

“Mine,” you answered, needing time alone to process everything that happened in the gardens.

“As you wish,” he replied and walked you to your door. Once at the doorframe, he took your hand in his, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. This gesture was what his subjects did to the emperors, never the other way around

“I will see you at breakfast, my amor,” he gushed before walking to his own guarded chambers.

You walked into your room and shut the door. After a second, you picked up one of your feather filled pillows and squealed into it as you jumped up and down with glee.

He loves me!

The Emperor of the empire loved you and wanted you to be his wife. It was anything beyond your wildest dreams. You thought of your family, how you became a slave to give them money, and now you would marry the richest man in the world. You wished you could tell them, but you didn’t even know if they were still alive. It had been years without contact.

You stripped down for bed, and decided tonight you would wear his robe. You laid on your mattress and let your hands caress the fine fabric of the robe as it covered you. Geta was the only thing on your mind. You pictured what your life could look like with him. He would take you to all his official meetings, you would meet all his generals and senators. You would be protected by the praetorian guards. You would give him heirs.

You held your lower stomach as you imagined cute little boys running around, calling you mama with their big, brown eyes looking up at you. They would have matching togas and armour with their father. You tried to picture Caracalla with his nephews, knowing his childlike nature would mesh well with theirs.

The image of your future family was so vivid in your mind, it was as though the gods gave you a vision.

The intense vision made you start to cry. You suddenly felt very empty. You wanted Geta to get you pregnant so you wouldn’t feel empty anymore.

You got up from bed and splashed your face with water the maids had left for you. You knew you were being ridiculous. He had only admitted his love for you an hour ago and you were already losing your sanity with daydreams of children that did not exist.

You took a cloth and began to wipe off the streaky makeup from your face. Geta was so soft, you could picture him doing this for you, gently rubbing the fabric over your face until you were clean. Everyone else could have their opinion of him, but you knew his heart. You knew he had a need to be adored and cared for, but he was so afraid of losing the throne, he only showed maniacal ruthlessness.

You knew that he made your heart beat go fast, and he filled your days with happiness. You knew that no one else could ever sweep you off your feet like he did, and there would be no one else for you except him.

Did you love him?

I think I love him.

You had the urge to run and tell him. He had to be told immediately. You cursed yourself for not saying it back to him during your date, but you didn’t want to look desperate. Plus, you weren’t sure. But now you one hundred percent knew.

You knew better than running in the corridors of the palace; you knew the guards would likely think you were going to ambush the emperors. Your bare feet slapped on the stone floors as you hurried your way past sculptures and paintings of past emperors and the gods. You finally reached the guards protecting Rome’s rulers, and were so eager to speak that you spoke far too fast and unclear for them to understand you.

“The emperors are not to be disturbed,” you were told, completely dismissed.

“Please, just ask Emperor Geta if I can enter his chambers. Tell him it’s an emergency. He’ll know it’s me,” you requested.

He huffed and trotted along to his leader, leaving you with several guards staring at you wearing a just robe that was clearly not yours.

When he came back, he didn’t even bother to speak to you, just moved to the side of the corridor to let you pass. When you reached his chambers, the door was already open and Geta was out of bed, pacing around the room in a robe. His hand was up to his mouth, biting his skin and nails in anxiety. He turned to see you when he heard you shut the door behind yourself. His worry for you turned into confusion when he saw his robe gracing your body.

“What-?” He asked, wanting to know how you got his clothes, but you cut him off.

“I love you,” you blurted.

His concerned face turned stunned, he did not believe his ears.

“What was that?” He urged.

You closed the distance between him so you could look into his big, brown, worried eyes as you said it again. “I love you.”

His breath stuttered in shock and he picked you up as though you weighed nothing. His hands carried you under your thighs and you wrapped your legs and arms around him like a koala. He pressed his plush lips against yours and kissed you, never wanting it to end. No one ever told him they loved him. Even as a youth, after his mother passed away, his father offered nothing but brutality. He never had any familial or romantic love, and now he had it, he would never let you leave him.

“Say it again,” he commanded.

You found it cute the way he wanted you to repeat those three words.

You moved your hands to hold his face, letting his fresh stubble scratch your fingertips. “I love you.”

“Again,” he whispered.

“I love you, Geta,” you said, staring into his eyes. Your fingers pushed back his wavy hair, so smooth without the sharp, pointy laurels in it.

He carried you to the bed and unceremoniously dropped you onto it. Your robe was loose and showed off your naked body. You thought perhaps Geta would take this moment to be intimate with you, but he took off his robe and simply laid against you.

“I want to wake up with my wife-to-be in my arms. Wedding preparations will begin in the morning,” he claimed.

You were a tad disappointed that Geta fell asleep without having sex with you, but took solace that you had the rest of your lives with each other, so had plenty of time to make up for it.

You didn’t know how long it had been when you woke up to Geta’s hand on your hip. You laid on your side with your back to him and assumed he was asleep, until you felt him sit up. He moved the robe you wore so your bottom was completely revealed to him.

You turned your head to face him and as you did, his fingers slid in between your folds.

“What filled your dreams, love? So wet already. I could slide my cock in here without needing to do anything first,” he teased.

He pushed his middle finger inside you and you nodded to him before letting your head turn back around to look at the wall. Having one of his fingers inside you felt better than one of your own. There was just something about it. Then you felt him add another finger, making you stretch to fit around him.

When he pulled his fingers out, he reached around to put them in your mouth. You eagerly licked and sucked your own juices off his hand. In doing so, you took his fingers as far as you could into your mouth, to tease what you could do if he so wished.

His hand went to his cock and the other held your hip again. He shuffled closer to you so your ass touched his hips and he slapped his hefty cock against your wet sex a couple of time before pushing the blunt head inside you. You bit your lip against your pillow as your body easily accommodated him

“The way you take me, it’s unlike anything else,” he purred from behind you.

Like this, he could push his entire length inside you and your body had no choice but to take it.

“This is where you belong,” you moaned, feeling blissed out.

One of his hands snaked under your neck and went to hold your breast. He alternated between squeezing and fondling to pinching your nipple - not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to show his want. Your hand reached behind you to feel his balls. They were sticky from where they kept slapping against your wetness.

“They’re so full,” you commented, causing him to grunt. “You have to empty them for me, okay love?”

Geta nodded against your hair, then moved his hand to the front of your neck to lightly choke you. You loved it - loved how the pressure on your throat and the pressure on your cunt was caused by him.

“I’m your girl. Tell me I’m yours,” you begged, wanting him to claim you.

Geta was working so hard on fucking you, only a weak “mine” left his lips from behind his head. To you, that wasn’t good enough.

“Say you own me,” you requested, but a mere grunt came out of his mouth. He was the emperor of Rome, he was as powerful as the gods, you had seen him yell plenty of times before, yet he struggled to vocalise his power in this moment.

“Say you own me!” You yelled, probably loud enough for the guards and Caracalla down the hall to hear.

“I own you. Pussy’s mine,” he rasped out.

He took both of his hands and used them to move your hips in rhythm with his thrusts. Soon, he pulled out of you and let his seed land on your ass cheeks. When the warmth hitting your body stopped, you turned over to lay on your back, not caring that his spend was now being rubbed into his robe and bed sheets.

“Did you…….peak?” Asked Geta, still trying to get his breath back.

You shook your head. It didn’t matter to you. You had made him cum, and pleasuring the emperor would forever be your priority.

“Next time, you tell me,” he objected and moved his way down the bed. You didn’t understand what he was doing, until he spread your legs. He didn’t give you any explanation or warning, he just went straight in and lapped at your folds. His two fingers entered you again, fucking you just how he knew you liked. Emperor Geta may have been a selfish leader, but he was not a selfish lover. He always wanted you to take pleasure from him, and tell him how much you enjoyed it.

His mouth concentrated on your clit as his fingers worked their magic inside you. As you reached your orgasm, you felt bad for forcing him to talk earlier. You could not judge him for not being able to speak when you could only muster out a quiet “cumming” as you exploded on his fingers.

“No one in Rome will know how sweet their Empress tastes,” he said from between your legs, licking clean your inner thighs before sucking his fingers. You smiled up at him to show you appreciated the compliment.

“There’s so much to get done,” he started. He stood up from the bed and put on a robe to wear before the maidens would come in to dress him. He sat next to you at the side of the bed and held your hand as he listed everything he wanted.

“I want new armour made for the day. You’ll need to be fitted for your dress. Flower arrangements will need to be made. I want games in the colosseum to celebrate. I want a feast. I want as many people to be there as possible.”

Geta went on and on about how he wanted the marriage ceremony and celebrations afterwards to be perfect. The only thing you wanted was for your family to be there, but knew it would be very unlikely.

@your-nightmaredoll @1950schick @justasmallbean

#gladiator #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #joseph quinn #emperor geta fanfic #me

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 6 months ago

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the arrangement. [part 2] l General Marcus Acacius

[PART 1]

Summary: you have to ask General Acacius for help and you know that only one thing can convince him

Warnings: +18, smut, unprotected sex (don't do that), breeding kink, mentions of death and blood, a bit of sadness

A/N: i didn't plan a part two, but - here it is! if i disappointed anyone's expectations, i apologize. here i tag people who requested it @hidden-poet @stormseyer . have mercy on me.

Crowds of people looking for good entertainment gathered in the coliseum that hot day. You never liked this place, but your position obliged you to appear there, especially when you were invited by prominent people of Rome. It was the same this time.

You hadn't spoken to Marcus since your last meeting a few days earlier. You carried out his orders as he asked you to. Despite the pain, you appeared in the city, you also received a few guests, no one guessed that your heart was shaking. You also didn't meet General Acacius anywhere. You couldn't and didn't want to expose him to any consequences if it turned out that the Emperor would also look at you unfavorably.

"Lady Y/N, I’m delighted to see you here." the voice of one of the senators tore you from your thoughts.

"The pleasure is mine, Senator." you replied, nodding your head slightly. "Wonderful weather for the games, don't you think?"

"Wine, food and beautiful company are enough for me, games are an addition and a whim of the Emperor." the man laughed "I was hoping to see you here. The latest rumors about your... ekhm... slave. Outrageous."

"Thank you. Fortunately, the law is clear."

"Right, right!" the senator took a sip of wine. "Each of us should know our place."

"Wise words, Senator."

The lodge was filling up with more guests invited by the Emperor. More greetings and smiles, the clinking of goblets and laughter. Excitement was reaching its zenith.

"General Acacius!"

A nervous shiver ran through your body, but you decided to only cast a quick glance at the man who had joined the guests. Dressed in white and gold, his skin touched by the sun, his dark hair with a few silver strands gleamed in the rays of the sun. General Marcus Acacius looked like one of the gods' favorites.

Only the appearance of the Emperor with his closest entourage tore the group of people who were delighted with him away from him.

"Lady Y/N."

His warm, quiet voice touched you gently like a pleasant evening wind.

"General." You curtsied slightly to pay him respect.

Your gazes met, and his slight movement of the head gave you more answers than all the words he had spoken could. In one moment, you ran out of breath, and your eyes stung from the tears filling them.

"Don't show it. They're watching." Marcus said, standing so close to you to shield you from prying eyes for a moment, his hand lightly grabbed your arm, this gesture was the only tenderness he could afford in that situation.

It was the first time he had seen you so broken and his heart couldn't bear it. He wanted to take you in his arms, let you hide in his embrace and protect you from all this evil and despair.

However, all he could do was give you a few moments to put yourself back together and show an unwavering face again. But not a single tear scratched your cheek.

"I am grateful to the Gods for seeing you healthy and strong."

Although Marcus could hear a slight tremor in your voice, the people around you couldn't do that.

"Your words, my lady, are the greatest grace." He replied, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it tenderly. "I’m grateful that I can feast my eyes on your sight today."

He saw you part your lips to say something, but the sound of trumpets tore you away. The show had begun, and Marcus could only pray that you would hold on.

His dark eyes were on you almost the entire time. He could see you clearly, you were like a statue of a goddess in one of the temples. Unwavering, strong, with a mysterious smile that appeared on your lips whenever one of the guests spoke to you. Only once did he see a crack in that wonderful facade—when Margo appeared in the arena and her spirit left her body—Marcus thought you were going to faint, but you didn't take your eyes off the bloody sand of the coliseum.

As guests and spectators began to leave the coliseum, he stood by your side again.

"My lady, do you have someone who could take you home safely?" You seemed distracted to him, and your gaze was absent. "Let me take you to my place. I don't want you to be alone."

"General... Marcus..." his name on your lips sounded like the sweetest melody to him. "Thank you, but I can't..."

"Don't make me beg you here," he whispered. "Please."

After a moment of thought, you nodded and let him lead you to the exit.

General Acacius's house was a quiet and peaceful place. The evening air was cooler and a pleasant gentle breeze blew through the open shutters, filling the rooms.

Marcus made sure that the servants prepared a bath for you and didn't bother you even when you dismissed the women accompanying you to be alone. This was your time, and he wanted to give you as much of it as you needed.

"Marcus..."

He looked up and saw you standing in the doorway of his chamber.

A silk robe gently wrapped around your still damp body. Your gaze was full of pain, but you looked at him gently.

"Y/N, please." he began, approaching you. "I beg your forgiveness, I couldn't do anything. I tried to talk to the Emperor, but I couldn't do anything. He didn't care about her, and our involvement..."

"Shhh..." your delicate hand tenderly stroked his rough cheek. "I have to thank you, Marcus. For everything you..."

"I didn't do anything! I couldn't!" he interrupted you sharply.

"But you tried. I believe in it. I couldn't demand it of you. I don't know what I was thinking, asking you to risk so much for me..."

"I would give my life for you, you know that."

Your hand slid down his neck and rested on his chest. You felt his heart beating hard, his chest heaving with each breath.

"I know Margo was reconciled with her fate. I could feel it looking at her. She was strong, but calm." your voice was calm "Maybe you won't understand this, but she was my best friend. For years. She was devoted and loyal to me. I just wish she didn't suffer."

"Death came for her quickly. Now she's calm and safe."

"Thank you, Marcus."

His hands stroked your shoulders, and his lips kissed your temples lightly. His closeness seemed as natural to you as never before.

"Stay here tonight. I don't want you to be alone with all this." He said, and when you opened your mouth to say something, he added "I know you can, you're a strong woman, but today you don't have to be like that. Let me take care of you."

His eyes were so sweetly apologetic, you knew he would take on everything you felt just to make you feel better.

"You can take my chambers. You'll find comfort worthy of a queen there."

"Marcus..."

"I won't even touch you with a finger. You're safe with me."

"I know."

You trusted Marcus completely. Even when he walked you to his chambers, he didn't insist, nor did he make any move to suggest that he wanted to go there with you. It was you who, before leaving, kissed his lips gently. No words. They weren't needed.

But sleep wasn't a pleasant escape. The minutes passed, and you still felt wide awake. You weren't sure if you had slept for even a few moments. The house was quiet, only the cicadas in the garden keeping you company during the next few sleepless minutes.

No one heard your footsteps. You quietly left the bedroom and made your way through the darkened corridors to the room where Marcus slept that night. The door opened and you slipped inside.

The room was a bit smaller than the bedroom Marcus left you in, but you could smell the same pleasant scent of jasmine and burning candles that brightened the interior. You saw him sitting in an armchair with the shutters open. You thought he was dozing, but when your hand slipped into his tousled hair he stirred restlessly.

"Have mercy on me." he whispered, turning slightly and spotting you behind him. "You would be the perfect assassin, sneaking up on me so silently."

"Is that a compliment?" you asked, a faint smile appearing on your lips.

"I'm completely defenseless around you, so yes, it's a compliment." he replied. "You can't sleep. Me too."

"This house is so quiet and peaceful." you sighed quietly as he took your hand and touched it with his lips, standing up. "I feel like I don't know the words to thank you for what you did for me, then and now."

"I didn't do anything, Y/N."

"You were my rock, Marcus. That's more than anyone else has done."

"But I couldn't save you from the pain."

"Can either of us do that?"

He stared at you intently. His eyes were full of sadness and tenderness. Maybe that night gave you courage, maybe what Marcus did made your heart open to him. But you felt so safe with him that you wanted to be even closer to this man.

You didn't push away his hand that stroked your cheek. It was a relief for his heart.

"I'm ready to fulfill my promise, Marcus." You said calmly. "I'll stay with you in this house, we'll fill its quiet rooms with the laughter of children."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it." He replied, taking your face in his hands. "I couldn't do anything against your will."

"But it's my will, it's what I want. My heart has always been yours, but I was afraid."

"What were you afraid of, love?"

"War. Death. Enslavement. You were the image of all of this." He closed his eyes, probably guessing it. "So I was unavailable to you. I wanted to get rid of this feeling, but you never made it easy for me. You were my daily fear and night dream. Everything I feared and desired. I was sure that you only desired my body..."

"I don't deserve you. I don't deserve even one of your glances, love."

"So why am I here? This is what I wanted. I want you."

You took his hand and slid it down to your chest. Only a thin layer of silk that separated his hand from your soft and delicate breast. When he squeezed it lightly and saw how you parted your lips, he was sure that grace had descended on him.

His lips collided with yours in a kiss, and his warm tongue slipped between your lips, caressing you tenderly. He absorbed you with his presence, and you submitted to him humbly. You clung to his strong body, feeling his desire grow.

The silk robe that wrapped around your body slid to the floor. You stood naked before him, his eyes adoring you.

"You'll make me the happiest man in the world by letting me love you." he whispered.

"I allow you, Marcus."

In an instant his lips were on yours again, kissing you passionately and hard, and before you knew it you were already in his strong arms as he lifted you up and carried you towards the bed.

You felt the cool sheets beneath you, and then your eyes stopped at Marcus. He took off his toga. His body looked like it was created by hands and in the likeness of gods. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. You noticed a few scars on his skin, but they didn't destroy his image. And finally his hard cock, so ready for you.

He covered you with his body, his lips roamed over your stomach and chest, showering your body with kisses. Warm lips found your nipple and closed on it, you felt his tongue teasing you sweetly. Your body arched, and Marcus' strong arm slid under you and you knew you wouldn't get out of this delicious trap.

The tip of his cock teased your entrance, and you felt yourself getting wetter with each of his movements.

"Tell me you want me, please." he whispered, kissing your neck. "I'm begging you."

"I want you, Marcus. I need you more than air. Make me yours."

He groaned painfully, kissing your lips. Strong hands gripped your hips to position you the way he wanted you.

His tip slowly slid into you, filling you completely. You caught your breath, trying to get used to the feeling of Marcus being inside you. He must have felt the same, because you could hear his slow breathing as he buried his face in your hair.

"It's wonderful to feel you." he whispered, looking at you, his eyes as dark as ever before. "I've wanted you for so long."

"And you have me."

One strong movement of his hips, a quiet moan escaped your lips. Gods, he would give his life for that. He began to move faster, more rhythmically, feeling your pussy take all of him. He tightened his grip on your thigh, afraid that he would hurt you, but you didn't even flinch. Your fingers intertwined in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him like you needed him to be able to breathe, and with each thrust he heard those sweet sighs escaping your throat.

He felt like a barbarian destroying something as beautiful and sacred as you. But you wanted him. He felt it in your every move, saw it in your every look. You wanted him.

"Marcus, please..."

Your velvet walls squeezed his cock harder and harder, and he knew he wouldn't last long. He'd wanted you for so long. But he wanted to see it. A few more hard thrusts and he saw your body arch in the rush of pleasure flooding your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and you bit your lip, feeling like you were about to fall apart. But his arms held you tight and steady. You were safe.

And Marcus didn't slow down. The way you squeezed his cock made him closer, and his movements were faster and harder now. You could feel his sweaty body against you, his quickened breath.

"Fill me, Marcus... Let me carry your child." You whispered in his ear.

He came with a loud groan, digging his fingers into your thighs so hard that you were sure you'd see bruises there the next day. Warm streams filled you to the brim.

Marcus made you his. He filled you with his seed, you'd be full of his child. If not now then soon, you were sure of it.

"Tell me you're not just a beautiful dream."

His rough voice brought you back to his arms. You looked at Marcus, his eyes full of adoration for you. He looked so vulnerable that you began to understand what he meant by calling you the perfect assassin.

Even though you were the one who promised him your devotion and loyalty, you were both on the same page.

"What if I was just a dream?" you asked, stroking his cheek tenderly, his cock was still inside you, you could stay like that all night.

"I don't want to wake up then." he replied "I don't want to see another sunrise knowing I can't have you. That would be torture."

"I wish we could stay like this forever. I feel your love and it fills my heart too." You saw his gentle smile "Let's take what fate has given us, maybe we shouldn't doubt anymore."

"So you'll stay?"

"I will. I'll be proud to be your wife, General Acacius."

"You'll be so much more." His lips brushed yours in a tender kiss "My queen, my goddess. I will worship you until the end of my days."

And you knew he wasn't lying. General Marcus Acacius was a man of honor.

And he was yours.

Forever.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius x fem!reader #general acacius #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #gladiator ii

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moonlightrafe · 8 months ago

Text

A Little Wicked

summary: Your captor summons you to his quarters and offers you a deal.

pairing: Aemond x Witch!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, power imbalance, threatening, reader is Aemond’s prisoner, dubcon, fingering 18+ MDNI

note: Inspired by Alys, of course 💚 but no physical descriptors! Idk how I feel about this but yeah…… Feedback is appreciated!

How did the saying go? When a Targaryen is born, the Gods flipped a coin? A 50/50 chance to ascend to greatness or be destined to descend into madness. It served as a reminder to the great family that dragons or not, they were mortal like everyone else. For the rest of the realm, it served as a warning: The Targaryen’s were a force to be reckoned with. Intimidating, unpredictable. When the Targaryen’s wanted something, only a fool would deny them of it or stand in their way. Aemond Targaryen was no exception to this folklore. He teetered on the brink of insanity majority of the time.

You shivered as you sat in the cold, damp dungeon. The only light came from a small barred window high up on the stone walls. You could hear the faint sound of dripping water and the occasional scurrying of rats. You wondered how long you would be trapped here.

“You, girl!” One of the burly men guarding your cell called, metal keys clanging in his hands.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen has requested an audience.”

You had been waiting this moment since you first arrived: judgement day. What would become of you? Would you be granted mercy? You weren’t even sure how many days had passed since your house was burned to ash and you were thrown in this dungeon.

Once the man unlocked the chain around your wrist, you struggled to rise to your feet, anxiety coursing through your veins.

“Come now, girl. The prince does not like to be kept waiting.

The darkness of the chamber seemed to breathe along with the prince. The room where he took solace was beautiful and spacious, but yet you found it to be almost as eerie as the dungeons. Aemond sat in a large leather chair eagerly awaiting your arrival. Across from him was a small dining table and a wooden bench big enough for two. Without uttering a word, he motioned for you to sit down. You obliged, nodding at him and smoothing your dress as you did so. Before you was a small plate with freshly baked bread and a small goblet of wine.

“You must be hungry,” he stated, “eat.”

Hungry was an understatement, you were starving. You took a rather large bite of the bread, washing it down with the wine. It was the best wine you had ever tasted. You were thankful to have something to calm your nerves.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here.”

You swallowed the bread with quickness and wiped your mouth of any possible crumbs.

“That is correct, your grace.”

Aemond leaned forward so that his elbows were touching his knees, a fox-like grin plastered on his face.

“How polite you are,” he noted, “what do you know of me?”

Truth be told, you didn’t know much about Aemond Targaryen. You were aware of his cruelty. You knew that ever since he took over Harrenhal your life had become hell.

“You’re… Aemond Targaryen,” you blurted out, hoping he would not berate you for stating something so obvious. “You’re the second son of the late King Viserys… You were crowned prince regent not long ago, and your dragon is called Vhagar.”

You watched intently as Aemond took a sip of his own wine, silently praying you did not say the wrong thing. His Adam's apple bobbed in the candlelight as he swallowed — the longer you stared at him you realized he was actually quite handsome. Your thoughts of admiration for him were interrupted once he spoke.

“Very good. Now, would you care to know what I know of you?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood, striding over to approach where you sat. A knot formed in your stomach as he plopped down next to you, his good eye piercing through you with scrutiny.

“I know that you’re a wet nurse,” he began as his good eye flicked to your breasts so quickly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I know that you are a bastard of House Strong,” the tone of his voice had been laced with venom. You knew he hated your house and you knew he hated bastards. A thin line of sweat began to form on your forehead and your heart raced as you waited for the prince to speak again. Instead he inched closer, his hand ghosting over your thigh.

“As interesting as those facts about you may be, would you like to know the most intriguing of them all?”

Too overwhelmed to speak, you remained silent. Only giving him a simple nod in response.

“I know,” he stated as his large hand now gripped at the flesh of your thigh over your dress, “that you’re a witch.”

His statement made your blood run cold. Aemond’s fingers traced the edge of your jawline, lingering at your pulse point. Your breath hitched once again as his thumb brushed the throbbing vein beneath your skin.

“Isn’t that right, my sweet?”

He was correct. Your late mother had been teaching you magic since you were a young girl. You possessed the gift of foresight, being able to see into the future and the past. However it wasn’t so black and white. You had much to learn before your craft was perfected.

“I am not as powerful as you may have been led to believe, my prince.”

Any doubts you had of yourself, Aemond did not seem to agree on, he did not even acknowledge you. His hand found its way further down and under the skirts of your dress. Large fingers probed between your legs, pressing hard against your clothed sex. You tensed up, your breath leavingyour lungs. Your body betrayed you as you felt arousal blooming within you, dampening your small clothes.

Your mind raced with conflicting emotions as Aemond’s hand ventured deeper, snaking its way beneath the waistband of your undergarments. Fear mingled with desire, leaving you torn between pushing him away and surrendering to the agonizing threat of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. It's not as if you had much of a choice in the matter.

"I believe that we can be of service to one another," he whispered against your neck, licking lightly at the sensitive flesh. Two of his fingers teased at the bud between your legs, pinching at it lightly as they became sticky with your slick. A wave of pleasure rippled through you and you squirmed beneath him. Involuntarily your body jolted forward, allowing him better access to the spot he was exploring.

"Together, I believe we can conquer many obstacles and even achieve success."

You cringed as a moan escaped your lips.

"You shall remain loyal to me and me only," he said as he pushed his fingers inside of you. He chuckled darkly as your body trembled under his touch.

"The practice of your craft is to only be done in my presence," he continued as his fingers pumped in and out of you, stretching you deliciously — almost, but not quite reaching that spongy spot within your walls.

“You will use your powers to the best of your ability and for my benefit and in return, I shall spare you your life.”

Another moan erupted from within you as he hooked his digits up slightly, pressing into the spot you needed him most.

“Do you think you can be a good girl and obey my rules?”

Your cunt began to squeeze around his digits in response to the nickname.

As he grazed the rough patch inside of you and pressed firmly into it, his free hand pushed down on your stomach while he continued to thrust his fingers. You felt your body shake and tremble as your orgasm began to wash over you at an embarrassingly quick pace. Aemond watched in great amusement as you came undone beneath him. In this light you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, your hair unruly and your cheeks flushed crimson. A sight he would never grow tired of.

He removed his fingers from your slick and gave you a minute to gain your composure. You felt a wave of shame crash over your body, unable to look him in the eye. How did you succumb to him so easily? Thought in the back of your mind you had hoped wasn't going to be the last time something of this nature was going to happen.

Aemond used the same two fingers that were inside of you to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“So,” he smirked “do we have a deal?”

“Yes, your grace.”

He informed you that a guard would be taking you to your new quarters as he bade you goodnight.

As you entered your new quarters, you were taken back by the luxury of it all. The walls were made of stone and there was a large, ornate canopy bed in the center, a major upgrade from your own bedroom, and an even bigger upgrade from the dungeons. To your delight, a steaming bath had been drawn for you and a fresh chemise was laid out on the bed.

This was just the beginning of your very complicated relationship with Aemond Targaryen. You were still a prisoner, you were still afraid of what was to come; but there were worse situations you could be in and perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond oneshot #aemond imagine #aemond x reader smut #aemond x you #aemond x witch!reader #house of the dragon smut #hotd #ewan mitchell #my writing #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd fanfic

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bcmbiquinn · 1 month ago

Text

BURNING FLAMES

Summary: Emperor Geta, known for his cruelty and cunning, rules with an iron fist, determined to leave a legacy of strength and dominance had fallen in love with a young servant, who’d turned his entire world upside down.

Pairing: Emperor Geta | fem!reader

w/c: 2.6k

Content warning: Smut +18, minors dni.

Credits for divider: @fanguro @aquazero

The grand halls of the Palatine Palace were always a hive of activity, filled with the soft rustle of robes, the echo of sandals on marble, and the murmurs of servants carrying out their duties. Emperor Geta, draped in a deep crimson toga, stalked through the corridors like a lion surveying its domain. He thrived on control, on the fear he commanded with a single glance

One afternoon in the marble halls of the palace, Emperor Geta strode through his domain. His eyes dark as obsidian swept over the bowing servants with cold indifference. At twenty three he had already earned a reputation for ruthlessness and cruelty that could make any man shake in fear in just his presence.

As he kept walking, he noticed you.

You stood among the other servants, your head bowed like the rest of them, but something about you caught his attention. Perhaps it was the way your dark curls fell down on your shoulders or how your hands, though roughened by work, moved with unexpected grace fixing your tunic.

Geta found himself slowing his pace, an action that confused his guards. The emperor never slowed for anyone

“You.” He said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. “Look at me”

You raised your eyes and Geta's world seemed to stop, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in his chest. Your eyes were the colour of amber honey, and though fear flickered in their depths, there was something else there, a quiet strength and magic that both intrigued and unsettled him.

“Your name.” he demanded.

“y/n, dominus.” You answered, your voice steady despite your obvious trepidation.

Geta looked down and up at you, wondering what it was you had that had captivated him so deeply. As his heart started racing, he walked away, anger building within, how dare you, a servant, make him feel this way? At the mercy of his most primal desires.

One evening as you were arranging fresh flowers in a golden vase, a guard approached you, the emperor demanded your presence at his chambers. You felt your heart dropped, all possible scenarios running through your mind. Have you done something wrong? Did you forget to pour wine in his goblet? Did you dare to look at him wrongly?

You shake your head trying to appease your thoughts, you look up at the guard and nodded . He turned around and you followed him to the emperor’s chambers.

In the dim flicker of oil lamps, Geta stood rigid at the marble balcony overlooking Rome. His hands gripped the stoned edge tightly, his jaw clenched, as he could crush the feelings threatening to spill forth.

As you walked inside the chamber, Geta turned slightly, the full moon highlighted his strong features.

“You summoned me, dominus?” Your soft voice broke the silence.

He turned, his dark eyes narrowing as they landed on you. You bowed your head, not daring to defy him and look at him. He walked toward you, staring deep into your soul, he looked at how you were dressed in a plain tunic that clung to your slender form, your dark curls falling down your shoulders. You were no noblewoman, no consort of rank yet you stirred something within him that no legion or conquest ever had.

“Yes” he said, his voice sharper than intended. He cleared his throat. “Pour the wine.”

Obediently, you crossed the room, your steps light but deliberate. He watched you, his eyes betraying a hunger he despised in himself. He was Geta, ruler of Rome, a man feared and revered in equal measure. And yet, in your presence, he felt disarmed, weak and out of control. He got close to you, his tall frame hovering over you, his hand gently grabbed your waist and you felt your body tense at his touch, his left hand started caressing you hair as his mouth got close to your ear.

“Do you know?” He began, his tone almost casual. “What would they do if they saw us together like this?”

Your body tensed, your eyes looked at the darkness of a corner. “They would condemn us both, dominus.”

His lips twisted in a bitter smile “Condemn me? No. They would whisper in the shadows plotting my downfall, but none would dare to challenge me. You however” He stepped closer, his hand now resting on your him. His voice dropping. “They would make an example of you. A lesson in obedience and the price of overstepping one’s station.”

You could feel your heart beat fast as if it were to come out of your chest but you couldn’t deny the adrenaline and desire you felt by having Geta so close to you. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong.

Your gaze met his, unwavering “You summoned me, dominus.”

For a moment, the air between you crackled with unspoken tension. Geta closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to tilt your chin upward. You looked at him, directly at his eyes, you could feel fear, desire, shame running through your body but you did not pull away.

“You bewitched me, y/n” he murmured. “And I hate you for it”

In the days that followed, Geta found himself creating reasons to pass through the eastern corridor where you worked. He told himself it was mere curiosity, the same way one might be drawn to examine an unusual butterfly before crushing it.

He watched how you moved among the other servants, quiet and gracefully. You weren’t like the other servants, who scurried away like frightened mice whenever he appeared.

One evening, as the setting sun painted the palace walls in shades of gold and crimson, Geta dismissed his guards and approached you alone.

“Come to my private gardens tonight” He commanded. “After the evening meal.”

It wasn’t a request and you knew it.

Later that evening, after you finished your meal, you walked rather slowly throughout the corridors of the palace. Your hands shaking and your heart racing. Although you felt fear deep in your bones, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up in your heart just by thinking of being alone with Geta, in this very moment as strange as it was, nothing else mattered to you.

The imperial gardens were Geta’s sanctuary, a place he could escape from his role as emperor. As he waited beneath a blooming cherry tree, he questioned his own sanity. He was emperor of Rome, descendant of gods, what was he doing, meeting a servant in secret like a lovesick boy?

When you appeared, in your plain tunic, messy hair from all the work you’ve done during the day, Geta forgot all his doubts, he saw you moving like a spirit through the moonlit garden, how dare you be so beautiful, so breathtaking?

“You came.” He said, surprised by the softness in his own voice.

“You commanded it, dominus.”

“Geta.” He corrected you. “Here in this garden, I am just Geta.”

Your eyes widened slightly, but then nodded. “As you wish…Geta.”

You talked through the night, and Geta discovered a mind as beautiful as your face. You spoke of your childhood in a small village, of your dreams of seeing the great library of Alexandria, of your love for poetry. You asked him questions no one had dared to ask before, about his thoughts, his hopes, his burdens.

For the first time in his life, Geta felt seen not as an emperor, but as a man.

Your secret meetings continued, and with each passing night, Geta felt the walls he had built around his heart crumbling. During the day, he maintained his fearsome reputation, perhaps becoming even more brutal to compensate for the softness he felt in private.

But in the gardens, with you, he was different. He learned to laugh again, to speak of things beyond power and conquest. He shared with you the weight of his position, the constant fear of betrayal, the loneliness of absolute power.

"Sometimes I wonder," he confessed one night, his head in your lap as you stroked his hair, "if I am becoming the monster they all believe me to be."

Your hand stilled. "We all choose who we become, Geta. Even emperors."

Your words haunted him, especially during the day when he sat upon his throne, passing judgment on those who had crossed him. But nothing could be changed, he knew it and that’s why he found such a beautiful freedom with you, freedom that to him borderlines with madness.

One night, you were walking through the corridors of the palace after Geta summoned you again in his chambers, as you walked in you saw him standing at the balcony looking at Rome. You made your way throughout the room towards a small table where his goblet was and you poured some wine. Geta turned and his gaze lingered on you, admiring the way your hair fell in loose waves, the gentle curve of your neck, the quiet strength in your posture. He found himself wanting more of this subtle beauty.

“Leave the wine.” He said finally. “I have other matters to discuss with you.” He waved a hand dismissively at the empty plates and cups. He walked toward you, his movements fluid and purposeful, he close the distance between you, until you stood mere inches apart.

His hand cupped gently your cheek and looked at you with adoringly eyes.

“Tell me, my love what is it that you desire?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as Geta’s touch ignited a fire within you.

“To be free.” You whispered, the words barely audible. “To be free to love you.”

Geta felt his heart filled with a warmth he had never felt before, he pulled you close to him, holding you tight in his strong arms as if you were to disappear in front of him.

“If this is a dream.” He murmured, almost to himself. “I pray the gods grant me the mercy of never waking.”

You closed your arms around tightly, feeling his warmth covering your body, your heart felt full, complete in his arms, you didn’t want to let go of him, ever.

“I have lived so long in the shadows of my own making, convinced that I was destined to walk this path alone. But you… you bring light to the darkest corners of my soul” He confessed.

You looked up at him and gently caressed his cheek, Geta closed his eyes at your touch.

“Geta my love, you are not alone, not anymore, you’ve got me, all of me, my love, my soul.”

“You’re too kind, too good.” He murmurs. “I don’t deserve your love, your compassion. But gods help me, I crave it like a starved man.”

His hands started gently caressing your arms, his right hand reached out to tilt your chin upward and then kissed you, his lips felt soft and warm. He kissed with such gentleness as if you were to break if he dared to kiss you harder.

His hand slipped beneath your tunic, fingers brushing against the smooth skin of your thigh, inching higher towards the heat of your core. You gasped as Geta's fingers grazed the edge of your undergarments, the intimate contact sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your legs trembled, threatening to give way, but he locked his arms around your waist, anchoring you to himself.

“What we’re doing is so wrong, so very wrong…” you said softly against his lips. “But gods above, Geta... I can't resist you. Not when you touch me like this, when your words make me feel like the most desirable woman in the empire."

Geta lifted you in his arms and laid you down on the bed, his fingers danced along the lace trim of your undergarments, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath. He reveled in your conflicted responses, the way your body yielded to his, despite your feeble attempts at resistance.

“My dearest, you are the most beautiful creature in this world.” He said and kissed you again.

With a deft motion, he pushed your undergarments aside, exposing your slick, swollen folds to his probing fingers. A strangled moan escaped your lips as Geta's fingers delved into your dripping heat, stroking and curling inside you in a way that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Your head fell back, exposing the column of your throat, as waves of pleasure crashed over you

He got closer to you and undressed you, your tunic fell on the floor and then he took down your subligacalum. He admired the beauty of your naked body, a true daughter of Venus.

Geta's eyes flashed with triumph and lust at you, your complete submission to him a heady aphrodisiac. With a swift movement, he shed his own garments, freeing his rigid manhood from the confines of his robe. He positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his member nudging your entrance.

“You shall have all of me, my sweet y/n.”

With a powerful surge, he drove into you, burying himself to the hilt of your tight, wet heat. A guttural groan tore from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him, welcoming him home.

Your scream of pleasure was muffled by Geta's mouth claiming yours in a searing kiss as he filled you to the brim. The intense stretch and fullness sent shockwaves of delight through your quivering form, making your toes curl and your inner muscles flutter around his thick length. You whimpered against his lips, your nails raking down his back in fervent appreciation. You wrapped your long legs around his waist, locking your ankles to keep him buried inside you as he began to move. Each powerful thrust hit your sweet spot, sending sparks of euphoria racing up your spine.

Geta's grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pounded into you with relentless intensity. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the chamber, punctuated by his ragged breathing and your high pitched moans.

Your climax came to you intensely, your body bowed off the bed, a keening wail tearing from your throat as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.Just as your tremors began to subside, Geta's own release barreled into him with the force of a storm. With a hoarse roar, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your spasming channel.

Geta collapsed onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His chest heaved against yours, your sweat slicked skin sticking together as he struggled to catch his breath.

“You are exquisite, my love.” He panted, nuzzling his face into the crook of you neck. “So perfect.”

He lifted his head to gaze at you, his usually cold, calculating eyes now soft with satisfaction and a hint of tender affection, he gently kissed your lips, your cheeks, your eyes, pouring all his love onto you.

Geta rolled onto his side, pulling you close and wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you against him.

As you two laid together, in the dim light of the oil lamps of the chamber, you couldn’t stop thinking about what would be of you two. You belonged to him completely now and the thought of letting him go was clouding your mind.

“My love…will they let us be?” You asked, as you grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles.

"I am emperor," he growled, pulling you closer. "I decide what can and cannot be."

And with those words you knew, there was nothing else to fear, if the gods had decided to bring you to him who were you to deny.

#emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x female reader #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn #joe quinn

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antinousletmehit · 20 days ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 16 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇Pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇notes: WRITTEN PRE-ITHACA SAGA. Don’t come for me guys. ALSO YOU GUYS MIGHT NEED TO READ BACKSTORY CONTENT ON ANTINOUS AND READER TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS CHAPTER.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The sun streamed into the hall as Antinous lounged in a chair, his boots propped up on a low table. For once, he was in a rare, cheerful mood. A servant brought over a fresh goblet of wine, which he accepted with a wide grin. Eurymachus sat across from him, lazily tossing a few dice onto the table.

“You know,” Antinous began, swirling his wine, “it’s a good day. The food’s decent, the weather’s perfect, and for once, no one’s done anything to piss me off.” He leaned back, exhaling contentedly. “I might even go easy on the servants today.” Eurymachus raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “How merciful of you,” he said dryly, rolling his dice again. “You’re practically a saint.”

Antinous snorted. “Don’t push it. What’s with the sarcasm? Is something up your ass today? Though, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Not at all,” Eurymachus replied annoyed, though a sly grin creeping onto his face. “Actually, I’m just thinking about how you might not stay in such a good mood for long.” Antinous frowned, his good humor faltering just slightly. “What the hell does that mean?” Eurymachus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Well, it’s just that…you know how I hinted the other day about your sister?”

Antinous stiffened, his cheerfulness evaporating. “Yeah? And I beat you at arm wrestling, so you’re supposed to stop talking in riddles like you’re about to reveal you’re Odysseus in disguise.”

Eurymachus smirked. “Right, right. But I couldn’t let it go, and, well…” He paused dramatically, clearly enjoying himself.

Antinous sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing. “Well, what? Spit it out, Eurymachus.”

Eurymachus shrugged nonchalantly, feigning disinterest. “Let’s just say I’ve seen her and Telemachus getting real close lately. Closer than I thought they’d be.” Antinous stared at him, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean, close?”

“Oh, you know,” Eurymachus said casually, inspecting his nails. “Sneaking off together, whispering in corners, kissing—”

“WHAT?!” Antinous bellowed, jumping to his feet so quickly his chair toppled over.

Eurymachus leaned back, unfazed, his smirk widening. “Relax, I’m just saying what I saw. A little kiss between your sweet sister and Telemachus—nothing to lose your head over.” Antinous’s face turned crimson, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re lying,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N wouldn’t—she hates him!”

Eurymachus shrugged again, still maddeningly calm. “Doesn’t look like hate to me.” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if I were you, I’d be a little worried about where else that might lead.” Antinous slammed his fist on the table, the sound reverberating through the hall. “I’m going to kill him.” Eurymachus chuckled, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic. Maybe it’s love?”

Antinous grabbed the front of Eurymachus’s tunic, pulling him forward so their faces were inches apart. “If you’re lying to me, I swear—”

“I’m not lying,” Eurymachus interrupted, his tone still infuriatingly casual. “But hey, don’t take my word for it. Why don’t you ask Y/N yourself?” Antinous shoved him back, his chest heaving as he glared at Eurymachus. Without another word, he stormed out of the hall, his mind racing and his temper barely contained. Eurymachus leaned back in his chair, watching him go with a satisfied smirk.

“This is going to be fun,” he giggled to himself, reaching for his goblet.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Antinous stormed down the halls of the palace, his footsteps echoing like thunder. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched, and his chest heaved with anger. He didn’t bother knocking when he reached his sister’s room, instead slamming the door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall.

Y/N, sitting on her bed with tear streaked cheeks, jumped at the sudden intrusion. She hastily wiped her face, trying to hide her vulnerability, but her red, puffy eyes betrayed her.

“What the hell, Antinous?” she snapped, her voice hoarse but sharp.

Antinous didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Don’t ‘what the hell’ me!” he shouted, stepping into the room and slamming the door behind him. “What is this I hear about you and Telemachus? Eurymachus told me everything.”

Her stomach dropped. Her face turned pale, and then red with frustration. “What!? He promised! That nosy bastard needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut,” she muttered, standing up. Antinous pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t you dare try to deflect! Is it true? You’ve been sneaking around with him?”

Her lip trembled, but she masked it with anger. “So what if I have?” she shot back, her voice rising. “What’s it to you, Antinous?”

“What’s it to me?!” Antinous roared, his face contorting in disbelief. “I’m your brother, Y/N! You’re supposed to have some dignity—some respect for yourself!”

“Respect?” Pandora scoffed bitterly, crossing her arms. “You think sneering at servants, bullying Telemachus, and drinking yourself stupid every night counts as respectable behavior?”

“This isn’t about me!” Antinous snapped, his face flushing. “It’s about you—and how you’ve humiliated yourself and me by running after that spineless boy!”

She clenched her fists, her body shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare call him spineless! He’s more of a man than half the fools in this palace—including you!” Antinous flinched as if slapped. His lips curled into a snarl. “Oh, so now you’re in love with him, is that it? What, are you going to run off with him to Pylos? Sparta?, leave your blood behind for some fantasy romance?”

Bee throat tightened, and her voice cracked. “He’s already gone.” Antinous blinked, his fury momentarily dampened by the raw pain in her voice. “Gone?”

“He sailed this morning,” she said, her tone wobbling as fresh tears filled her eyes. “And I had to watch him go, knowing he might never come back.” Antinous stood in stunned silence for a moment before the anger returned. “Good riddance,” he muttered. “At least one good thing happened today.”

Her head snapped up, and she marched forward, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Don’t you dare say that!” she hissed. “You don’t know anything about him, about what he’s been through, what he’s trying to do! You just see him as a threat to your stupid courting games.” Antinous slapped her hand away, his expression darkening. “He is a threat. A threat to you, to us, to the order of things. And you’re too blinded by your pathetic feelings to see it!”

She shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “You don’t get to decide what I feel, Antinous! You don’t own me!” Antinous steadied himself, his chest heaving with rage. “You’re acting like a child,” he spat.

“And you’re acting like a tyrant!” She screamed back, her voice breaking. The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence. Both of them stood there, glaring at each other, their breathing heavy.

Finally, Antinous shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment. “You’re going to regret this, Y/N. I promise you. You think this is all a game, don’t you?” he growled, his voice low but trembling with emotion. She flinched, wiping her tears, but the sight of her crying didn’t deter him. If anything, it seemed to fan the flames.

“Do you even remember?” he said, his voice rising. “Do you even remember who was there for you when we had nothing?” She looked at him, her lips trembling, but she didn’t respond.

“I was the one who fed you when we were hungry!” Antinous shouted, pointing to his chest. “I was the one who went without so you could have enough! I put you first every single time, Y/N!” Her tears fell faster, and she shook her head, trying to block him out, but he wouldn’t stop.

“When we ran away from that skank we called our mother, when we had nothing but scraps and the clothes on our backs, who do you think kept us alive? Who do you think protected you, fought for you, made sure you had a future?”

“Antinous, stop,” she whispered, her voice choked.

“No!” he snapped, his eyes blazing. “You need to hear this. You need to understand that I am your blood. Not Telemachus. Not some stupid boy who doesn’t know the first thing about you or what we’ve been through. Me.” She pressed her hands to her ears, shaking her head, but Antinous grabbed her wrists, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m the one who took care of you,” he said, his voice raw now, breaking under the weight of his emotions. “I’m the one who sacrificed for you. And this—this is how you repay me? Running around with Telemachus like none of that ever happened? Like I don’t even matter?”

She yanked her wrists free, her face twisted in pain. “You do matter, Antinous! But you can’t control me! I’m not a child anymore!”

“You’ll always be my little sister,” he shot back. “And as long as I’m alive, I’ll protect you—even from yourself, even if it means I have to fight you on this!”

“I don’t need your protection!” She screamed, her voice breaking as she shoved him again. “I don’t need you to fight my battles anymore, Antinous! I can take care of myself!” Antinous staggered back, his expression torn between anger and hurt. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his chest heaving as he stared at her.

Then, in a voice softer but no less intense, he said, “You think you can take care of yourself? Fine. Go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when that boy breaks your heart—or worse, gets you killed. Because he will, Y/N. He’s going to leave you behind, just like his father left him.” She gasped as if he’d slapped her, and her tears came harder.

Antinous turned away, his face hard and unreadable. “I was always there for you,” he said quietly, his back to her now. “But if you don’t want me anymore, fine. I won’t waste my time.” Her sobs were cut short by a sudden surge of anger. She pushed herself up from the bed, her body trembling as she shouted after him, her voice raw and broken.

“And what about you?” she wailed, her words spilling out like a dam bursting. “You want to stand here and act like the perfect brother, like you’ve done everything for me—but you didn’t!” Antinous stopped in his tracks, his back still turned to her. His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t move.

“You fed me, you protected me, fine!” Pandora cried. “But you want to talk about sacrifices? What about when you started leaving me? What about all those nights you disappeared into the streets, chasing after random whores and leaving me alone? What about when you stopped caring, Antinous?”

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t turn around.

“You want to talk about blood and loyalty?” Her voice cracked as fresh tears streamed down her face. “You weren’t there anymore! You were too busy being a selfish, shitty brother to notice that I needed you!” That did it. In a flash, Antinous spun around, his face a storm of fury and pain. He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbed Y/N by the collar of her tunic, and yanked her close.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N froze, her breath hitching as she looked into his wild, furious eyes. For a moment, she saw the boy he used to be—the one who shielded her from danger, who promised her they’d survive no matter what. But that boy was gone, replaced by a man consumed by pride and disdainfulness.

“You think I neglected you?” Antinous hissed, his grip tightening just enough to make her flinch. “You think I didn’t notice? I noticed everything.”

She tried to pull back, but he held her in place. “Antinous—”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he growled, his voice trembling. “Not after everything I’ve done for you. Not after everything I’ve given up for you.” She swallowed hard, her hands gripping his wrists as she tried to steady herself. “Let go of me.”

For a moment, it looked like he might not. His grip stayed firm, his chest heaving as he stared her down. But then, with a sharp exhale, he released her, pushing her back slightly as if disgusted—with her or himself, she couldn’t tell. She stumbled, clutching her collar as she glared at him, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get to treat me like this,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Not anymore.”

Antinous ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and regret. “And you don’t get to throw away everything we’ve worked for over some boy,” he said coldly. “Grow up, Y/N.”

Antinous paced furiously outside her room after slamming the door behind him, but something about her broken sobs pierced through his anger. He clenched his fists, muttering curses under his breath before turning back and barging into the room again.

Y/N, still slumped against the bedpost, flinched at the sound of the door crashing open. Her tear streaked face lifted, her eyes red and puffy, as Antinous stood in the doorway, his face a mask of fury. “You want to play this game?” he snapped, stepping closer. “Fine. You think you’re so strong now, don’t you? So independent, so grown up.” His voice dripped with venom. She stiffened, wiping her face with trembling hands. “Antinous—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “If you’re so desperate to abandon me, your own brother, the one person who’s always been there for you, then fine. Let’s see how well you do without me.”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off again, pointing a finger at her. “You want freedom, Y/N? You’ve got it. But don’t come crying to me when the suitors start mocking you—when they say things to your face that you can’t handle.”

Her heart sank, but she forced herself to stand.

Antinous snapped, his voice rising. “You think they don’t already talk about you behind your back? About how you’re just another piece of meat for them to eye and dream? Do you think they respect you because you can throw a few punches?”

“Shut up,” she hissed, her hands balling into fists.

He laughed bitterly, his voice cruel. “What’s the matter? Can’t take the truth? Well, here’s another one for you: the next time they mock you, even if it’s right in front of me, I won’t step in. You’re so strong, right? Handle it yourself.” Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked like she might break all over again. But she held her ground, her chin trembling as she glared at him.

Antinous mocked, leaning closer, his face twisted with anger and hurt. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t need me anymore. So why should I waste my time protecting someone who doesn’t even care about me?” Her knees felt weak, but she refused to let him see how much his words stung. She squared her shoulders, her voice trembling with defiance. “If that’s how you really feel, then maybe I don’t need your protection.”

Antinous stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving as he tried to rein in his temper. Finally, he scoffed and turned on his heel, heading for the door.

“Good luck, Y/N,” he said coldly, not looking back. “You’re going to need it.”

And with that, he stormed out, leaving her standing alone, her tears threatening to spill over once more.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress @eyuunho @f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @xo-cuteplosion-xo

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #antinous #epic telemachus #telemachus #telemachus x reader #antinous x reader #aphrodites gamble #epic antinous #eurymachus

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yandere-sins · 4 months ago

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Yan-Poll #27

[Continuation of Poll #26]

"Both?!" they gasped in unison, the werewolf equally as astonished as the vampire was amused.

"That is unheard of," the vampire noted, but a smile played around their lips as if the idea was almost as enticing to them as you were. "But having two dinners is better than one."

"Watch it," the werewolf growled back at his fellow monster, pulling you tighter against his chest. "No one gets to suck my blood, and hell will freeze over before I share this human with the likes of you."

"Or you could let me leave...?"

Their annoying bickering, mixed with growls and condescending chuckles, ceased instantly as you spoke up, all eyes falling on you. Hugging your arms tightly around yourself, you used the motion to get some distance from the beast hovering around you, shielding you away possessively from the vampire that kept a considerable yet welcome distance.

Asking for your freedom didn't turn out as intended, as you soon found yourself sitting on a soft couch, wringing your hands while the two monsters were at each other's throats. Seeing how you had no intentions of being an obedient meal, they relocated you to the old mansion, which turned out to be the vampire's lair. It made the werewolf antsy; the hairs on his neck always raised as he growled at the statues and grumbled over the creaking floorboards.

"Here you go, Darling," the vampire chimed, handing you a golden chalice, something you had only ever seen as a Halloween decoration or a prop in a movie. In the candlelight, it was hard to decide whether this was wine or, well, blood, so you gave it a tentative sniff.

"What is it?" the werewolf growled, suddenly on high alert as he approached you swiftly, sticking his nose right against your face to sniff it.

"Pomegranate," the vampire chuckled. "Not to be inhospitable, but it wouldn't do anything for your cursed blood. Luckily, I'm not picky."

Growling, the two went back to exchanging hostile banter, and you considered your situation as you took a small sip from the chalice. After being repelled at first by the sourness slipping over your tongue, you at least had to admit it was some fruit juice, as the vampire had said. Despite having a split opinion about it, you realized how thirsty you were as you chugged it down.

"Have one more," the vampire offered, suddenly appearing next to you with a pitcher, refilling the goblet, and winking at you.

The situation was more than strange as you felt both cared for and like a pig waiting to be slaughtered without ever expecting it. You eyed the boarded-up windows behind mostly drawn curtains, biting your lip unhappily, and tried to remember the way back to the entrance you had been carried through, wondering if they'd ever be distracted enough for you to slip out. The goal was clear, and although they had yet to hurt you—except for the werewolf's claws scratching you while he carried you—you didn't trust them.

"Real food is what they need!" the werewolf barked, ripping your chalice from your hand and throwing it across the room, staining both the wall and the floor red.

"That's antic," the vampire replied pointedly. "And I don't have food. The human is food. Go fetch some food for them, puppy-boy, so I can have a late-night snack, how about it?"

"Over my dead fur."

"Now we're speaking the same language."

Fangs were bared, like a competition of pointy teeth, lips pulled taught as the mood seemed to tip over, and your heart pounded loudly in your chest as you realized you didn't want to be at the mercy of the victor of the battle between these two. You had to do something, but unexpectedly, it was not up to you this time.

"Get them some food, bloodsucker, or I will serve your head on one of those silver platters."

"How about I give them a bath first? You could need one, too—no one would want to eat from a sweaty, dirty neck."

"I'll tear you limb from limb if you take them out of my sight. They'll submit to my decisions for them, not your tricks."

"Don't you need to prove you're such a good mate first by providing for them before they submit to your... less-than-sophisticated desires? Go hunt them some venison, and in the meantime, I'll have them squeaky clean and bound to a bed in twenty, no, ten minutes, and that's that."

The roar in the werewolf's chest turned louder and louder, the warning loud and clear, while you couldn't think of anything more abhorrent than both of these creature's intentions they had for you.

"Uhm...!" you cut in, feeling like you needed to put a stop to it if you wanted to neither be flayed nor submit to anyone or anything for that matter.

Both shifted their attention to you, and the vampire was the first to lean back, crossing their arms. "Fine," they sighed dramatically. "Since we stuck to that silly idea of letting them choose, why not let the human also decide what they want."

They turned towards you, staring at you unusually coldly with their eyes so full of swiveling red. It was impossible to look away as you watched them, your heart pounding out of your chest and your fingers gripping the cushions you sat on, muscles flinching as if to get up and run over to the vampire right away. Flately, yet firm, they prompted you, "Food or bath?"

"Don't," the werewolf hissed at the other monster in the room before turning toward you and demanding your attention by clasping a paw over your eyes. You gasped as you realized you must have fallen into a trance, and the werewolf enveloped the upper part of your head with his elongated palm to prevent you from looking at the vampire. "Have some shame," he growled, and you felt your stomach churn as you realized you were about to offer yourself to the vampire.

"Never," they chuckled. "You're just jealous that the human prefers this," they paused, and you assumed they were pointing at themselves. "Over this."

The werewolf growled but remained surprisingly calm even though the vampire's insult wasn't lost on you either. "Choose," the werewolf muttered in your direction. "And make better choices than what the bloodsucker assumes."

A bath was nice, cleaning off some of the dirt from camping and tending to the scratches while also preparing to escape these monsters. Maybe you'd find an alternative way out if you saw more of the mansion? Then again, you didn't want to make yourself more delectable for the vampire, even if you agreed that the werewolf could benefit from a bath, too.

You certainly weren't that hungry, but given how far you were from the next city, if you managed to escape, you needed all the strength you could get. Who knew how long you'd be out there, running and hiding, unable to find a reliable food source? And if you convinced the werewolf to let you trail along while hunting for food, you would be one step closer to freedom, learning about the woods around the mansion. The vampire wouldn't tag along... right?

The ball had been played back to you, all nerves raw from the tension and uncertainty while you had to make yet another decision on their demand. They were waiting, their impatience palpable.

#yan-poll #yandere talk #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere tw #yandere fanfiction #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere drabbles #yandere oneshot #yandere stories #yandere writing #yandere imagines

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cheriecoke · 8 months ago

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it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 5.3k words

PART V ♰ MASTERLIST

Human blood, when it came straight from the source, a punctured vein made up of a scarlet river, held a divine power. There was a warmth that you could only receive from drinking it, not from the animals you captured in the woods, or those that you bled dry into a goblet.

Only then, would your icy skin be transformed into something akin to heated marble, so smooth, made up of something that had outlasted any other creature roaming the earth.

That sort of euphoria was a feeling that fifty years had served you well in forgetting. You’d learned not to miss it.

Until you got it back. The taste of human blood, once it had stained your lips after decades, had become the only thing on your mind.

For two days, the blood of the woman, whom Dazai had lured to his hotel room for you, kept your hunger down. Your body had grown warm once more, skin as normal as any mortal’s. It made you feel as if you had regained life itself, the ecstasy seeping back into you like the sunbeams you’d never reach again.

You’d pranced around your home joyfully, dancing through the halls the night before. Although it was dangerous, it was freeing, to lose yourself to the bloodlust like that. Just a taste of what your life had been, was enough to twist your mind, have you reminiscing on the vampire you’d once been.

“You seem different,” Atsushi had said, the previous day. There had been such pleasure in his irises and the lines creasing his face, at seeing you so cheerful. Those signs of happiness in him were ones that you’d vowed never to take away, for doing so would deem you the vilest creature of them all. “Has something happened that I’m not aware of?”

You’d laughed, let him rest in the crook of your elbow as you leaned him over your forearm, dipping him gracefully with your otherworldly strength. “I’m just glad you’re home, Atsushi,” you’d said, before twirling him around, guiding him in a dance around the room.

It was all you could say, really. You couldn’t admit that your true gaiety came from the blood of a young woman, and your health had been restored by drinking the sweet nectar from her heart.

Something you should’ve been doing all along.

Then, when those two days passed, and the desperation that came with hunger returned, your mood soured. Atsushi pretended he hadn’t noticed, skirting around you with sideways glances and softened smiles. Encouragement — even if he wasn’t sure what had turned your radiance into a shade of blue.

Life settled back into a sense of normalcy. For your fiancee, at least, who had never had a clue that anything was amiss. You, on the other hand, grappled with the immense guilt, the truth of what you’d done slamming against you, every moment your thoughts strayed.

Dazai.

The only name on your mind. Ever. Dreadfully lurking at the lines of your subconscious, even as you smiled at the one who loved you purely. Dazai’s charming grin snuck behind your eyelids as you kissed the man you were to be wed to, his name souring your tongue when you tasted Atsushi’s own.

His voice, a melody bestowed upon you by nothing else but the devil, for a merciful god could never have created something so tempting, so horribly unholy. Those dark eyes, darker still when you punctured his throat, letting the crimson liquid flow into your mouth, staining your lips.

And his blood…

You growled, digging your nails into the piano that you’d failed to play at all. A screeching sound erupted as your fingers slid down the cover, deep scratches marring the wood.

This was all his fault. If he’d never come back, then things could’ve carried on as they always had. You wouldn’t crave the taste of human blood once again, of Dazai’s blood, of his mouth, of him.

“Get out,” you shouted, throwing the piano bench away from the instrument, the wood splintering under your strength. “Get out.” The antique vase shattered against the wall, the priceless item suddenly a million, tiny pieces. “Get out of my head.”

Frustrated crept its way up your chest, a less than welcome old friend.

Yet, that blend of rage and anguish was not an antidote to the way that Dazai Osamu had poisoned your mind, and you fell to your knees, sobbing hot streaks of blood into your hands.

He’d made a cheater out of you, once again. A cheater, a killer, and a monster. And even after all that, you yearned for him. Your chest ached for the trace of his fingertips along your jawline, for those eyes to soften, only upon you. For the smile that he’d always given you, even in your darkest moments, as you laid upon him, coated in the gore of another.

Dazai was a cruel man, but he’d loved you through it all.

And if what he said was true, he’d never meant to leave you.

You swallowed, willing your tears away as you stared at the ceiling, dragging those regrettable emotions deep, burying them under the years of turmoil he’d put you through. All the times he’d snuck away, never telling you where he’d gone, promising he’d change and still playing the same games.

Even then, the taste of his blood was too fresh on your mind, the tenderness of his hands still burned into your skin.

Dazai, for all his cruelty, was right. Atsushi would never understand you the way he did. He’d never love you like that either.

It had been a blessing, at first, that Atsushi was so vastly different from your immortal companion. Now, it had become the thorn lodged deep in your side, puncturing you through the middle.

When the day came that you turned Atsushi, with a ring upon your finger and the promise of an immortal life, would you still long for Dazai?

It seemed unfair to judge your vampire lover now, for all his misgivings, all the evil deeds he had committed, all the adultery, all the silence. The murder. You were the same, you and Dazai. Burned straight from the same pit, crafted by the hands of a demon, placed upon this earth for no reason but evil.

How foolish you had been, to ever think you could be anything good.

Three days later, when the rats were not enough, and the threat of biting Atsushi became too much to resist, you sought Dazai out.

The realization of your buried feelings, towards him and yourself, would remain just that—hidden. You’d told Dazai you needed time, and you still did. Time to decide if you’d rather live with Atsushi, or step out into the sunlight, letting your body fall into flames before ashes. Both seemed more pleasurable than admitting that your once lover had seen straight through you.

Truly anything was better than admitting that what you felt for Dazai was something, still, close to love.

You’d spent the evening steeling yourself, staring awake in the darkened room as you rehearsed what you’d say to Dazai, after the last conversation you’d had. It had begun to occur to you, perhaps, that your problematic dalliance could be traced back to the mixed signals that you continued to send his way.

Yet, when you finally mustered up the courage to visit him, Dazai was not at the hotel. The room service had already cleared out the lodgings, stripped the room bare and sterilized it after his departure.

Dazai was gone. He’d left just like you’d wanted him to, for weeks.

So, why did your heart drop like a weight from your chest to your stomach, the agonizing twist of abandonment tearing through your immortal soul?

Briefly, you stared at the empty room, blinking at the laundress who spread fresh linens across the mattress. She seemed to be startled by the fury and misery in your darkened irises, lips parting with words she wouldn’t speak.

“The man,” you said, hating the sound of your choked voice, raspy as it made its way out of your chalky throat. “The man that was staying in this room. He left?”

She stared at you for a moment longer, before nodding slowly. “He did.”

“Do you know when?”

When? Where? Why did you let him leave? How could he just walk away without even so much as a goodbye?

The woman shook her head once more, smoothing a wrinkle across the sheets before stepping away from the four-poster bed. The same one that you had tumbled onto with Dazai, twice in the past few days, your icy hands roaming across each other’s bodies.

“That is not my business,” she offered, as kindly as she could, frightened by the sharp coils of your features, as nasty as the glare that shone in your burning eyes. “I apologize that I cannot be of more help, miss.”

You considered carrying on, objecting, perhaps tearing apart the room in a fit of anger. It could be upended by your monstrous speed before the skittish laundress even had time to protest.

For less than a moment, you bared your fangs, the sheer white of your teeth glinting in the moonlight. A flash of fear sheared its way through the woman’s eyes, as she caught the menacing curl of your lip, before you recovered smoothly. Quickly enough for her to believe that it had been a trick of the light, a play of her imagination.

“No. I apologize,” you said, dropping your hands to your sides, ignoring the dissonance of your humanity and your eternal curse. So quickly, with the burst of anger thrumming under your skin, you’d resorted to thoughts of violence. Ugly ideas swarmed your mind, a vision of blood, beautifully ruby red, splattering across the creamy linens.

Perhaps it was best that Dazai left. Hopefully, it was permanent.

Without another word, you left the laundress to her work, heading back to the front desk to see if you could weasel any answers out of the manager. He had been quite adamant in keeping it private, the whereabouts of guests, both past and present, under lock and key.

“I am merely curious when he left,” you said, growing frustrated after a minute of pursuing answers. Your sharp nails, stronger than that of a normal human’s, dug into the counter, small crescents indented in the dark wood. “Can you not supply me with that simple fact?”

The man pushed his glasses up, shook his head once, before you huffed, nearly hissing under your breath. You would resolve to more drastic measures, if you needed to.

“Tell me when he left.” You laid your sharp gaze into him, digging past the soil of his golden brown irises, until you had reached his mind, curling your own influence around it. “Dazai Osamu, he was staying in room 29.”

The man straightened, looked at you with parted lips, like you were the only person, the only being, in the entire world. So captivated he was, both by your beauty and your confidence, the smile on your lips softened, yet not without its cruelty. But the touch you’d laid on his mind was one of comfort, a warm caress. A feeling of laying on your chest, your fingers curling through the few, thin strands left on his balding head.

“Earlier this week,” he replied, nodding, recollecting the evening. “Yes, I remember him. Quite an outlandish fellow—very self assured. He’d checked out earlier than expected, but seemed in no hurry.” The fog lifted from the man’s irises for just a moment, as confusion hammered against you, and you lost your focus. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

You were quite out of practice, and dug deeper, controlling his consciousness. “Did he say where he was going? Or anything at all?”

He shrugged, eyebrows knitting together in pain as your gentle touch laid way to a cold slap against his mortal intuition. “I can only assume he would be going home.”

You scowled, face marring into an ugly expression, as your hands shook against the countertop. Then, you turned, scoffing, and released the man from your grasp. “Fine. Forget we had this conversation.”

The clerk said nothing to you as you stalked away, leaving a trail burned into the carpet from your steps. You were nothing more than a stranger.

Outside, you seemed to come to your senses, the moon, your oldest friend, your eternal companion, greeting you with a kiss. You stared up at it with distant longing, wishing, perhaps, that that silvery light could shroud you, wrap you up and take you away, just as the sunlight could.

Three steps around the corner, out of the sight of any lingering travelers, you dropped to the ground, leaning against the brick exterior of the old hotel. It was a building on the brim of decay, the colors so much different than when it’d opened, wood paneling rotting away.

Rotting just like anyone that had ever loved you had done.

The hotel had been born after your family, after the friends you’d had when you were human, but the state of it was more grisly than any you’d ever been in. It would age, die, collapse into the earth, and you would walk in the rubble, still as divine as you were now.

The realization of that alone had you doubling over, laughing into your hands, a sharp, terrible sound that echoed into the emptiness of night.

So hard, you laughed, that it threatened to tumble into tears, ones that you kept at bay, even as you stared at the decaying hotel and the stars in the night that you’d probably outlive too.

With Dazai gone, you felt closer to the brink of insanity than you ever had, in both your lives as a human and a vampire. It felt that some cord deep within you had snapped, and suddenly, you could not see a reason for your meaningless existence.

Day in and day out you’d suffered, looking for a reason to continue on the path of moral righteousness, to ignore all the memories that continued to resurface, floating up out of the deep, black abyss.

You had been unhappy as a human, unsatisfied with your existence, and you had been a loose cannon in your early years as a vampire; a risk to yourself and anything that dared to step in your path. And though you’d once believed yourself to court misery, you had only shared a gentle kiss with it, never taken it to bed and let it shroud you with itself.

Misery, now, was the only word that could encompass the deep sense of hollowness that had been carved inside of you. Even Atsushi, with his kind eyes and a smile you loved so dearly, had not been able to ease you out of bed.

Leave me for a few days, Atsushi, you’d told him, not sure if you were being selfish, or quite the opposite. I don’t want to hurt you.

You didn’t. You didn’t want to hurt him. But there was, and perhaps there would always be, the version of you that longed for the violence. For when had you last been happy, free, without the restraints and the threat of murdering the one you loved most, if not when you were with Dazai?

When the third day passed without a drop of blood, and the hunger had gripped you so tightly that you were on the brink of delirium, you pulled yourself out of bed, and left the apartment.

It was warmer, humid, the air stifling and pressing down on you as you roamed the streets, looking for something, anything. While the weather had very little effect on the dead, it was your hunger that dizzied you, a sensation that was so close to the suppressive heat felt as a human that you smiled, traipsed around as if you were in a dream.

Atsushi you’d spoken to only in brief increments, your fangs bared in a threat, warning him not to come any closer. And all he’d done was smile, tightly, and grabbed a fresh set of clothes, leaving for the rest of the week to retire elsewhere.

Despite your treatment of him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel apologetic. If that was what it took for you to save his life, to keep him from seeing the ugliest parts of you, then so be it.

Still, it only made you think of Dazai, who had seen all those sides of you. He had seen you, the very worst parts of you. He had seen you as a human, smiling softly at men on the streets as you slipped a hand into their pockets, stealing for the bread you couldn’t afford. He had seen you relish at the sight of fear, as the very same men began to see you as a threat, not a prize that could so easily be won. He had seen you happily drown yourself in murder, and he had loved you anyway.

For as little as he’d shared about his own life, you’d understood him. It had been the reason he’d given you the gift of immortality, one you could never return.

Thinking of that — thinking of Dazai at all — felt like a betrayal.

“Excuse me,” you heard a voice say beside you. A tall man approached, at least a foot above you, his eyes roaming across you with a lust you were all too familiar with. For a moment, you considered ignoring him, stepping away without turning to face him at all.

He persisted, calling out for you again, when you finally gazed back at him with hard suspicion.

“May I help you?” you replied, eyes narrowed.

He startled, taking a step back at your intensity. “Ah. I’m just passing through, and I’ve lost my way. I was wondering if you would direct me back to Crescent Street. I’m staying at the hotel there,” he said.

“Perhaps I am a traveler as well.” You glanced back at the river, the shimmering water winking at you with the reflection of the stars. “What makes you so certain I am familiar with the area?”

If you threw yourself into the water, tried to drown under the darkened depths, would you? Would the water flow through your lungs, killing you over and over until the sun rose, or would you simply breath it in and out as freshly as air, coughing it up when you emerged?

Dazai had never told you these kinds of things. You’d never been bored enough to try and find out yourself.

“Oh,” the man said. “Forgive me. I just assumed, based on how confidently you stroll the night. With all the murders that have been happening, I thought you must have either been comfortable, or just very stupid.”

You smiled lazily at him, as the annoyance surged up in you, so fast and without warning. “I am certainly not stupid.”

“Certainly not.” Then, the man, with his blonde locks and eyes the colors of sapphires, stuck a gloved hand out, leaning forward. “My name is Peter,” he said, curling his hand around your own, pointedly ignoring the ring on your finger. There was hunger in his expression, though it was different from your own, as he dipped his gaze towards the red corset that hugged your curves, revealing a hint of cold skin at your chest.

You bowed your head gracefully, giving your name in response, before looking at him from under your eyelashes. From that action alone, the sultry burn you had spilled into your irises, his demeanor changed, lips falling open from your otherworldly beauty.

Although your gift of slipping into the minds of humans, compelling their actions and twisting their memory had come in handy many times in the past, you’d never had to use it to lure a man to his dark fate. They came so easily, once they understood your intentions, saw even a hint of desire contrasting the gentle innocence you held onto.

“I must be quite lucky, then, to have stumbled across you,” he said, leaning into you. You could smell the tobacco that stuck to his clothes, fine cigars that he smoked quite freely. There was a hint of another scent there too, sweeter, more feminine. It soaked deeply into his clothes, lining every thread as if it had been coated there.

“Are you traveling alone?” you asked suspiciously, stepping away from him, to find a shaded area along the bank. There were enough trees to hide any hints of murder, and any lingering eyes had fled to the other side of the city, the busier side, where the port was.

The storm in Peter’s oceanic eyes dissipated to serene waters.

A lie came after, and so easily it slipped off his tongue, without an ounce of guilt, of the torment you had long since succumbed to.

“Yes,” he confirmed. Even though his eyes said no, and the scent of the woman’s perfume agreed.

“No wife?” you returned, smiling softly, as you reached the edge of the water, the waves curling up along the muddied rocks. “Kids?”

He laughed. “I’m afraid I am still a lonely bachelor.”

“Well,” you said, turning back around to trace his arm gently, your diamond clad finger on full display. “I’m not.”

Although he said nothing, you could see the anger rise up in him, the frustration at being toyed with — and how quickly it rose. His fingers tightened at his side, jaw clenching, a cruel word launching to the tip of his tongue.

“But,” you said, quelling your own rage. The threat of a violent man may have been nothing to you, but it would be enough to the other women that happened to be passing the streets. “Perhaps, we can ignore that small detail, for the time being.”

You slipped the ring off your finger and dropped it onto the ground, letting it fall into the earth, soiled and dirtied by the splashes of water that rose up — where you belonged. Underground, buried without a ring that never should’ve been on your finger in the first place.

You felt crazed, your spirit slipping from the shell of morality it had resided in, as it remembered what it truly meant to be free. And you were free, weren’t you? Your nature was never meant to succumb to laws set by mortals, for you were older than them, older than the society that claimed to be civilized, but was just as monstrous as your own.

Peter parted his lips, formulating a response you cared little for, as you shoved him up against the nearest tree, his back hitting it with a grave thump.

Even though you expected his face to morph into one of pain, he stared back at you with intrigue, eyes alight with want. That alone made you sick, with him and yourself, for doing the same thing to your fiance that you would take his life for.

You turned his jaw, caressing him softly as you exposed the vein, and dipped your head.

It was unfortunate that it didn’t cause him any pain, an almost erotic feeling to humans when you sunk your teeth in, tongue lapping at the puncture. But you were far too hungry to care, and ignored the warning bells in your head as you drank and drank, until the blood and breath began to fizzle out, and he was but a corpse left in your arms.

The taste grew rancid, sour in your mouth with death, and you released him, tearing the skin with a gruesome sound as you emerged from the vein. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in his expression, despite being gruesomely torn apart, and you threw him towards the river in disgust.

“I would apologize to your wife,” you said, smiling, rejuvenated by fresh human blood. Although he had been an easy catch, the hunt was elating, nonetheless. “But she’s better off without you.”

You leaned down, ripping a handkerchief from his pocket, before dabbing at your mouth, a few droplets of blood staining the tan cloth.

A sigh escaped you, and you glanced back up at the moon, the stars, the endless universe that you hardly understood at all. If there was a god out there, or the devil as you’d once feared, would they grant this as a sin, or would you be a vengeful angel, cleaning the world of the scum that committed adulterous acts?

You placed the cloth across his neck before slashing your nails across it, tearing at the skin like you were an animal, just enough to cover your tracks. Then, you dumped him into the water, watched him turn over, onto his face, before sinking just under.

For a moment, you stared, as the once living, breathing thing turned into something pale and ugly, floating along the current as if nothing more than a piece of litter, carelessly tossed aside. The mop of hair across the top of the waves, golden and shiny in the light, was the only evidence that he had ever been alive at all.

Then, as quickly as his life had left him, he disappeared into the night, beyond your vision.

You paused, feeling an eerie sense of nothingness creep up on you, as you realized what you had done. It had been so long since you’d held someone’s life in your hand like that, killed without a second thought, that the feelings of deliverance and regret battled so fiercely, they turned into impassivity.

Licking your lips, you turned around, basking in the warm glow of the night, the short hours you had left until the sun rose once again. The days would grow longer again, as would your sleep, as the dreadful months of summer sequestered you inside.

Picking up your ring, you left the bank, elevated. The ground seemed to fall below you as you meandered home, and the sound of the humans, those still awake at such an hour, though loud, was muddled. Nothing but a cacophony of nonsense as your own thoughts rattled even louder in your head.

The closer you got to home, to Atsushi, the more you grew to question yourself, to feel sick with your own actions. It was weakness that had drawn you to such an act. You were nothing but a slave to your hunger, to the bloodlust, and the anger that rose up in you.

Dazai had always been so controlled, so careful and cautious. You, on the other hand, had never been a master of your emotions — you went on killing without worry. A glutton when it came to the bodies you drained.

“Everything alright?” your neighbor asked, smoking on the balcony as her husband slept inside, perhaps the only reprieve she ever got from the miserable man.

You approached, waved her off, hoping that she was drunk enough to forgot she ever saw you. Maybe she wouldn’t even care that the woman living next door was a killer.

That was a laughable idea.

“Everything’s fine.” you spat out, sharply, not even bothering to look in her direction before you returned to your townhome, slamming the door behind you. It rattled on the hinges, the wood cracking, the frame beside the door shaking, before landing crooked.

A few angry tears emerged in your eyes, and you rubbed them away, your hand coated in watery, red blood, smearing into your skin. “Fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head as you looked to the bedroom, where you knew Atsushi wasn’t… Even though he should’ve been.

You screamed, bending over to catch yourself, before you kicked at the wall, a large hole breaking the plaster from the strength you’d forgotten you had. Then you screamed again. And again. Your nails tore into your arms in a ghastly, inhuman way, the skin merely stitching itself back up almost as immediately as you ripped it.

You could lay there, you thought, glancing over at the windows on the opposite side of the room, the beautiful, golden rock in the sky winking at you as she began to fade into the evening. How easy it would be, to open the glass panels, stand before them and let yourself burn into ashes. You could finally face the sun, let the last century and a half become a mere fraction of what your life could’ve been.

But you didn’t.

You had some strength in you yet.

Turning away from the window, you crept into one of the spare bedrooms, where the old coffin you’d slept in before rested on the ground. You’d gotten so used to sleeping in that bed, with Atsushi, that you’d almost forgotten you still had that sense of comfort.

It was a safety net, one that you happily shrouded yourself in as you dusted off the black cover, settling into the silk red sheets you’d chosen yourself. The feeling of sleep there was so reminiscent of your old life, you half expected to open your eyes and see Dazai there, who had laid beside you, many years after death.

For the first time in decades, you felt more like a vampire than a pathetic attempt of remaining human. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Atsushi had crept in and out that morning without making a peep, leaving for the office before the crack of dawn, and returning just as you were emerging from your coffin.

It was, you knew, something that he had never been able to reconcile with your lifestyle — sleeping in such a way, like the old monsters did, the stories that had always been told. That had partially been the reason he’d offered to take on the daunting task of sun-proofing your home.

“Are you okay, honey?” Atsushi had asked in his soft voice, eyes narrowed in concern as you emerged from the coffin. “I was worried when I didn’t see you in the room.”

You smiled, tersely, suddenly remembering yourself, the entirety of last night being chalked up to a poor mistake. It was regrettable, even if Peter was a lousy husband, that his wife would wake up, not knowing where he was. And if he had children, what would they think of their father’s disappearance?

“I’m fine,” you said, shaking off those thoughts. Atsushi certainly didn’t need to be worrying about you, and the murder of a cheating man hardly seemed a sin compared to your hypocrisy. “It just feels strange sleeping in our bed, knowing you won’t be coming home.”

Atsushi’s eyes softened. His romantic ideals had always been something you could speak to. “I know we’ve had a bit of a rough go of things, but…” he shrugged, reaching out to you, before retracting his hand. “I don’t like staying with Ranpo. I would rather be here, you know.”

You knew. Of course you knew. It hadn’t been Atsushi that had insisted upon his removal from the apartment.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“It’s okay.” For a moment, he looked away, then rubbed his face. “I know we said we would wait — that I would wait until we were married, but,” a brief pause, as he swallowed. “Maybe, you should turn me now. If I’m still a risk to you.”

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, even if his eyes were steadfast. Atsushi still had faith in his humanity, still held onto it tightly, though every moment spent with you left it quickly slipping through the cracks of his fingers.

But it was never an issue of marriage that had kept you from turning Atsushi. It was the fact that he was so good, so unlike you and Dazai, that you wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

You smiled, though it was pained, and shook your head. Imagining Atsushi as a vampire was beginning to make you ill, the vision so against the will of the universe that you weren’t sure it could ever come to pass.

“I’m okay now, I think. I’ve taken care of it.”

He didn’t ask what that meant.

You didn’t bother to tell him, either.

PART VI

sorry this one is kind of a filler >< i promise there will be more exciting stuff soon !!

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @osameowdazai @osaemu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai dazai @iluv-ace @pe4rl-diver @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia @yasu-masashige @umarureid @seikouryuu @dazaiswife1 @kxmilia @lacunaanonymousd @angelof-darkness @acacia-koi @foxydaydreamer @astrial @adoreddior @jayborderline @fandomhoestuff @destinyisastar @kierabear-1 @rosepig @aikatoru @tetsuskei @erebus-et-eigengrau @moemoekunn @amanoava @blank03sthings @himikoslove @aenishas @mncxbe @acacia-koi @stromy-weather @sugaredpersimmon @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @iheartpieck @little-miss-chaoss

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realmsdelght · 2 years ago

Text

His Rogue Lady; Daemon Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: how Daemon met his Rogue Lady Note: italics mean they are speaking in High Valyrian. Told from Daemon’s perspective. Also, reader is referred to as Lady Targaryen because she is married to Daemon, her house is not specified. The timeline is very messed up and different from the show/books, in this Viserys wants to wed Daemon to Rhea, not Alyssene There is a flashback in the middle but its marked by separations in the beginning and end Warning: MDNI! a tiny bit of smut, cursing, and blood Word count: 1980

Daemon Targaryen stood proud, it had been a big night for his knights.

Blood adorned his face and his Dark Sister, but not his gold cloak. His smirk never left his face, it gave him pleasure to see the fear on the face of the scum of King’s Landing. As much as he liked to see the prisoners off to their cells, and to hear them begging for mercy, he had a more important place to be. Just like Dark Sister, the prince had a thirst for blood, but most days he had a thirst for something else, his soulmate.

Most people assumed the Rogue Prince would only settle down once his brother forced him into marriage, and he almost did. But that was until he met his heart. Daemon was amazed at how a person can change once you get to know them. What was once a lady of the court that he, and most men, lusted after, had become the most important person in his life. He could remember exactly when his feelings changed from lust to burning passion.

If the Rogue Prince were a dragon he would have been breathing fire down the halls of the Red Keep, melting the stone and iron down alike. Things had started looking up for him and his brother, Viserys had just recently named him Commander of the Gold Cloaks, and their training with the prince had finally started to pay off. But of course, Otto had gotten into Viserys’ head and he had decided that it would be a good idea to wed him to Rhea Royce of Runestone.

‘How dare he think that woman would be a good choice for a Targaryen Prince,’ Daemon thought. His fiery thoughts were interrupted by the sound of steps behind him. The prince wasn’t sure who would dare attempt to approach him in this state, but he was surprised once he turned around. One of the most beautiful ladies of the court stood before him. Daemon had seen her before with his good-sister Aemma, the Lady was always quiet, but her beauty always attracted the eyes of men roaming the Keep. But the prince had never bothered to speak to her.

“Prince Daemon, I wanted to congratulate you on your betrothal,” the Lady surprised the Prince by speaking Valyrian.

“There is no need, sweetling. I’m contemplating jumping off the balcony if it means I won’t have to wed Lady Royce,” Daemon walked closer to her.

She smiled, the most beautiful smile the Prince had ever seen, “or you could just push Lady Royce off the balcony before the wedding,” the Rogue Prince felt himself melt as he watched the Lady’s face as she proposed murder. It was in that moment that the prince knew this lady was no sheep, and that he would never let her go.

The prince rushed towards his shared chambers. After the exhilarating night he had, all he could think about was his wife. He didn’t bother to greet the guard outside his door, he threw it open and one of his guards closed it as he walked in.

“How was your night, husband?” He heard her sweet voice greet him as he walked in.

Daemon was met with the sight of his beautiful wife, only wearing a thin nightgown, holding two goblets of wine in her hands. He walked towards her, taking one of the goblets from her small hand, his other arm went around her waist, pulling the lady closer to him. The Rogue Prince didn’t even bother to clean the blood off his face, he knew his wife preferred him that way, having the spoils of his victory splattered on his face.

“Wonderful. You should have seen their faces once they saw my gold cloak,” he smirked at the memory.

“I bet it was a sight to see,” she caressed his arm covered by the gold cloak, “my beautiful husband enforcing the laws of the realm, delivering justice with his Dark Sister, making the city’s criminals weep and crumble at his feet.”

“Anything to keep my beloved wife safe,” the man finished his goblet of wine, “How was your day?”

“Boring, as most days without you are,” she smiled at her husband, sipping the last of her own wine, before setting both goblets on the table.

Daemon stepped away from his wife, and started taking his armor off, “well, I heard my love was up to no good today.”

The Lady giggled, approaching her husband and helping him with his armor, “some of the ladies of the court had very strong opinions about why the Prince’s wife hasn’t given him a child yet,” she pulled his gold cloak off, letting it fall on the floor, “of course, there must be something wrong with me, my womb must be cursed. But then one of them said that maybe it was the Rogue Prince’s fault, maybe he preferred his soldiers or whores to his wife. So I told them that my husband fucks me better than their fat husbands could ever do to them,” she moved closer, almost kissing her husband, “and I told them that if they ever spoke about my husband like that ever again I would feed them to Caraxes.”

Daemon faked a gasp, before smiling again, “I do not believe Caraxes would eat meat as rotten as theirs,” his wife giggled, pulling him down for a kiss. His hands moved from her waist to her thighs, slowly pulling her nightgown up, “now I must fuck my wife. Please be loud sweetling, so the cunts of the court can hear you.”

“Daemon,” the Prince heard his brother call.

He turned around, bowing slightly, “yes, Your Grace.”

“I have urgent matters I need to discuss with you, brother,” Viserys headed into his study, so the two could have privacy.

“Did something happen? Is it my Lady?” The princes started worrying.

“No, no. Nothing happened. But this matter does involve your wife,” the king said, “Otto has brought to my attention that some members of the council are worried.”

The prince sat down, “worried about what?” He was already bored by the mention of Otto Hightower and the council.

“They worry you still don’t have an heir, you have been married long enough,” the King told his brother.

“I don’t give a fuck about what your council thinks.,” the Prince stood up, ready to leave.

“People have been talking Daemon,” the King tried to reason with his brother.

“We are the blood of the dragon. I do not concern myself with the opinion of the common people,” Daemon said with fire in his voice.

“These are our people Daemon,” Viserys hoped his brother would understand.

“Very well, you may tell your council that we did not have children because we do not wish for children yet,” the prince walked closer to his brother, “and I do not wish to share my wife yet, even with a child.”

“Gods be good,” the king whispered as he watched his brother’s back as he left the room.

The King had known talking to his brother would not work, but his council, especially Otto, had been adamant about the king talking to the prince. But what the king did not know is that he had given his brother an idea. Daemon Targaryen knew what he had to do, and suddenly the idea of his beautiful wife carrying their child did not seem so terrible.

The Prince strouted towards his chambers, he could not wait to see his wife again, and maybe when he told her the council she would threaten them herself.

“My dear wife, you look beautiful,” the prince said, walking into their shared chambers. The lady sat by her vanity, adorning herself with jewelry for the feast.

The king was having a big feast for Queen Aemma’s name day, and as always Daemon’s wife dressed her part. Her house’s colors were long forgotten and a black dress with blood-red embroidery adorned her body. Daemon felt aroused seeing his wife in his House colors, her colors now.

“Thank you, husband,” she looked at her prince from the mirror, “how was your day?” She asked. Daemon walked closer to her, he took the hairbrush from the vanity, softly brushing her hair.

“Interesting,” the man started doing small braids on her hair, “I learned the council is rather concerned with our life. And that you need to threaten more people with Caraxes.”

“What do you mean?” She turned around so she could face her husband.

“Viserys approached me today, he told me his council is worried you have not given me a child yet,” the prince told her.

His lady now sported a suggestive smile on her face, “and what did you tell him?”

“I told him that I am not ready to share my beautiful wife just yet,” he knelt down in front of his wife, “but if it is what the people want,” the prince smirked, pulling his wife’s dress up to her thighs.

“We must give them what they want,” she bent down, slipping her hand down her husband’s trousers.

“You are a tease, my sweet,” the prince groaned, as she moved her hands.

“I am simply preparing you, husband. You need an heir, don’t you,” she moved her hand again, earning a moan from the prince.

“Then I must spill my seed inside of you wife,” Daemon moved his wife’s hand, getting to his feet. He placed his hands on his wife’s thighs, lifting her on top of the vanity.

“Before you can spill your seed, you must fuck me hard, my love,” she smirked. She pushed his trousers down, freeing his cock.

“My dear…,” Deamon stopped himself, lifting his wife’s dress to her waist again, “... wife,” he groaned with pleasure as he slipped himself inside of her.

“Fuck,” the Lady moaned, biting her husband’s shoulder as Daemon pounded her hard.

The prince was sure his wife had drawn blood from him, and that only made him more aroused and in love with his lady. Their shared chambers were filled with groans and moans. His Lady was as feral as the Rogue Prince, she marked his skin deep purple as he took her. Obscenities in both the common tongue and High Valyrian slipped out of the Prince’s mouth only made his Lady moan loader and bite harder.

Daemon felt his wife clench around him, “I love you, my sweet.”

“I have missed you inside me, my Daemon,” she whispered as she felt herself getting close.

Hearing his wife calling him hers made his cock twitch inside of her, which only made the prince get rougher. The prince pulled his Lady’s hair, making her look into his face, “you will soon carry my heirs,”

“Maybe that will show the ladies of the court who the Rogue Prince belongs to,” the prince gripped her thighs so hard he was sure his hand would be imprinted on them. Their moans grew louder as the two reached their highs together.

The couple took their time to compose themselves, being careful not to waste Daemon’s seed and to make sure the lady’s dress was spotless.

The prince and his Lady walked into the Great Hall holding hands, the smile on their faces was brighter than the stars that shone in the sky. The King was happy to see his brother so happy, so pleased he decided to ignore the bruises and bites on his and his wife’s necks, something he knew he would hear about later on.

As the Lady and her husband approached the high table, Viserys pulled his brother into a hug, “you are late,” the King pointed out, smiling at Daemon.

“I was making an heir,” Daemon smirked as he was sure the whole table had heard what he and his late were doing before the feast.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #deamon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #daemon x reader

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the-fiction-witch · 3 months ago

Text

Mercy

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Nadi (Maid) Rating - 18+ Semi non con/ non con/ fingering/ nipple play/ breast play/ finger fucking/ eating out/ forced orgasms/ squirting/ pinv Word Count - 2230

Warning - Non Con / Semin Non Con!

Aegon sat beside the fire in his chambers, it had been a long annoying day as usual. In one hand Aegon held a goblet of old-town wine. His other hand on his lap softly rubbing and touching his cock though his pants just giving himself a comforting little play.

The young maid, Nadi, nervously stood in her dress having no choice but to watch him play with himself, as soon as his cup was empty he shook the cup suggestively so she grabbed the wine and filled his cup,

Aegon's fingers continued to caress himself, a sly smile spreading across his face as Nadi approached him with the refilled goblet. His eyes locked onto hers, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. As he took the goblet from her hand she stepped back, Aegon couldn't resist reaching out and gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb grazed against her cheek, “You know... I've been thinking,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

"yes your grace?" She asked trying not to tremble

Aegon chuckled, the sound low and seductive, as he leaned in closer to Nadi. His lips brushed against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Don't call me that,” he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. “My name is Aegon. Say it.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers, daring her to disobey him. His fingers still danced across his own groin, the motion hypnotic and tantalizing.

"Yes Aegon." She nodded

Aegon's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, his fingers continuing to stroke himself with a gentle, soothing rhythm. “That's better,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Nadi's gaze drifted down to where his hands were moving, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Aegon followed her gaze, his smile growing wider as he watched her reaction. “Would you like to touch me?”

"i- I -” She stuttered,

Aegon's smile faltered for a moment, his expression twisting into a mock-pouting frown. “Oh, come now,” he cooed, his voice laced with playful teasing. “Don't be shy.” He reached out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist, pulling her closer until they were almost nose-to-nose. “I'm the king,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. he pulled her down by her waist to sit beside him she was blushing and shy but he loved it. “What’s your name little thing?” He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply as he savored the scent of her skin.

“Nadi.” she gasped,

“Mmm, you smell lovely Nadi like nice wine,” he whispered, his tongue darting out to lick the tender flesh beneath her earlobe.

Nadi's blush deepened, she seemed frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. Aegon's fingers trailed up her side, tracing the curve of her hip before coming to rest on the swell of her breast.

“Tell me” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. Aegon's hand slipped beneath her dress, his fingers closing around her nipple as he squeezed gently. “Like that?” he asked, his voice low and suggestive.

Nadi's breath caught in her throat, she blushed hard and nodded her hips squirming a little

Aegon's eyes locked onto hers, burning with intensity. Aegon's grip on her nipple tightened, his thumb brushing against the sensitive peak as he teased her, “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice dripping with approval. His other hand set down his wine before sliding up her dress his fingers dipping into the warmth between her legs.

Nadi's hips bucked harder, her body arching towards him as her body sought more contact.

Aegon chuckled, his breath hot against her ear as he spoke. “You want more, don't you?” before even giving an answer Aegon forced her legs apart and stroked over her wet folds, while his other hand twisted and tugged her nipple,

"Ughh! Aegon! My king stop please I'll -"

Aegon's fingers stilled, his palm pressing firmly against her clit as he held her in place. His other hand released its hold on her nipple, instead wrapping around her throat in a gentle but firm grasp. “No need to beg, Nadi.” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. His lips brushed against her ear, his fingers beginning to move once more, this time with a slow, deliberate rhythm that left Nadi gasping for air. He pushed two fingers deep inside her and rubbed her clit with his thumb making her scream in pleasure,

"Aegon!"

"Fuck- so responsive... Umm I'm starting to like your cute little cunt alot Nadi"

Nadi's eyes went wide, her pupils dilating as she struggled to catch her breath.

Aegon's fingers continued to pump in and out of her, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit that sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body. “Doesn't it feel good when I touch you there?” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You're so tight, so wet... I could spend hours inside you, feeling you come apart around my fingers.” His fingers picked up speed, pumping deeper and faster as he watched Nadi's face contort in ecstasy. Aegon's grip on her wrist tightened, his fingers digging deep into her skin as he pulled her closer. His other hand reached up, cupping the back of her head as he drew her in for a kiss.

Their lips crashed together, the force of their collision sending shockwaves through both of them. As they broke apart for air, Aegon's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of her lower lip before delving back into the depths of her mouth.

“I could eat you alive,” he growled moving his hands harder and faster,

"Aegon please please..." she screamed,

“Don't beg,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. “Just let go.” With those words, his fingers plunged deeper into her, rubbing against a spot that made her cry out in delight.

Her body arched off the sofa, her nails digging deep into Aegon's shoulders as she succumbed to the wave of pleasure washing over her. She screamed and squirted on his hand he body trembling as she experienced her first orgasm.

Aegon's eyes widened in surprise, his gaze locked onto the sight of Nadi's release as it coated his hand. He felt a surge of pride and ownership wash over him, knowing that he was the one responsible for unleashing such a powerful climax from her. As she trembled beneath him, Aegon's fingers slowed to a stop, but only for a moment. Then, with a wicked grin spreading across his face, he dipped his head and licked the evidence of her pleasure from his palm. “Mmm... you taste even sweeter than I thought,” he murmured, his tongue tracing the curves of his skin as he savored the flavor of her release.

As Nadi's trembling subsided, Aegon gently released her wrist and sat up, his eyes never leaving hers. He wiped the remaining droplets of her release from his hand onto his pants, a satisfied smile still plastered on his face. “Now, let's see what else you can do.” Aegon tossed a pillow under Nadi's hips, angling her body to give himself better access. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he leaned forward and buried his face between her legs.

she screamed and squealed in overstimulated pleasure as he licked and kissed her folds, her body trembling and shaking aggressively as she begs for mercy

Aegon's tongue danced across her sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing through Nadi's body. Her screams and squeals filled the air, echoing off the walls as she bucked and writhed beneath him.

“Mercy...please…” her pleas were barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing.

But Aegon showed no signs of relenting. Instead, he intensified his assault, his tongue probing deeper into her folds as he searched out every hidden pleasure point.

she screamed suddenly loudly and lustfuly as she hit her second orgasm, her body trembling even more and squirting down his face

Aegon's eyes widened in surprise, his face glistening with Nadi's release as it poured down his cheeks. He looked up at her, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he watched her ride out the wave of pleasure. he laughed, the sound husky and raw, as he lifted his head and caught a mouthful of her release. Tasting the sweetness of her cum, Aegon's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “You're so bloody beautiful when you cum,” he muttered, his voice dripping with adoration. And then, in a move that left Nadi gasping, Aegon leaned forward and pressed his lips to her clit, sucking hard as he devoured every last drop of her release.

she screamed clawing the sofa and kicking her feet as she screams for mercy after two non stop orgasms

Aegon's mouth remained glued to her clit, his tongue still dancing across her sensitive flesh as he milked every last drop of pleasure from her. Her screams echoed through the room, mingling with the sound of her own ragged breathing as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Mercy...oh god...mercy…” Her pleas were hoarse and desperate, but Aegon showed no signs of slowing down.

Instead, he increased the pressure, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive her towards another peak.

she screamed and pleaded but Aegon cared only to torment her which meant it wasn't long before she had her third orgasm this one so powerful she almost blacked out

Aegon's grip on her clit tightened, his tongue thrusting deep into her folds as he rode out the wave of pleasure with her. Her scream was a distant echo, lost in the vortex of sensation that consumed her entire being. For a moment, time itself seemed to stand still, the world narrowing to a single point of pure ecstasy. And then, like a dark and malevolent force, Aegon withdrew, leaving Nadi shattered and spent on the couch. He sat back his chest heaving with exertion, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he gazed upon her limp form. “Three,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “It seems you're quite... responsive.

Nadi's chest rose and fell with labored breaths, her body still reeling from the intensity of her orgasms. Aegon's gaze lingered on her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her spent form.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and husky from the exertion, “Now,” he said, his tone dripping with anticipation. Aegon's hand reached out, his fingers closing around Nadi's ankle like a vice. “Don't move,” he warned, his grip tightening as he pulled her towards him. His fingers dug deeper into her skin. Aegon's other hand reached out, his palm slapping against her inner thigh with a loud crack. “Spread your legs,” he growled, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity.

Nadi hesitated for a moment, her mind reeling from the sheer brutality of Aegon's demands. But something about his gaze held her in place, kept her frozen in a state of helpless submission. Slowly, she parted her thighs, the cool air whispering past her exposed flesh as Aegon leaned forward, his face inches from her pussy.

Aegon's hot breath washed over her, sending shivers down Nadi's spine as he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring with excitement. His tongue darted out, tracing the crease where her leg met her groin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake. “Your scent is intoxicating,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Nadi felt a surge of fear mixed with arousal as Aegon's fingers tightened around her ankle, holding her in place.

“You're going to make me cum again,” he promised, his eyes glinting with a feral light. “And this time, it won't be gentle.” he undid his trousers and without warning he dove himself inside her tight, dripping wet virgin pussy, making her scream. Aegon's hips pistoned forward, driving himself deep into Nadi's resisting flesh.

She screamed, her body arching off the couch as he breached her maidenhead with a brutal ease. Her cry echoed through the room, mingling with the sound of tearing fabric and Aegon's own grunt of satisfaction.

He paused for a moment, his chest heaving with exertion, as he savored the feel of her tight, virgin cunt wrapped around him. Then, with a merciless thrust, he began to fuck her, his cock pounding in and out of her with a rhythmic violence that left Nadi gasping for breath.

She tried to push him away, but Aegon's grip on her ankle was like a vice, holding her in place as he ravaged her. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat that dripped from her brow as she struggled to cope with the sheer ferocity of his assault.

Aegon's pace quickened, his strokes becoming more savage as he rode Nadi hard. Her cries turned to moans, her body tensing in preparation for another climax. But Aegon didn't care - he was too far gone, driven by a primal urge to claim her completely. As he pounded into her, as he felt Nadi's walls clenching around him, With a roar of triumph, Aegon plunged deeper into Nadi's depths, feeling the familiar rush of heat as she orgasmed for the fourth time clenching around him driving him to his own burying his seed deep inside her.

“Fuck! Fuck…. Fuuuuck…” He groaned,

Nadi was left crying, trembling, soaked in sweat and sexual fluids. Gasping despeately trying not to pass out,

“You Nadi… are a very good little toy. I think I’ll keep you,” he growled leaning down to capture her in a forceful kiss.

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trulyumai · 4 months ago

Text

belittling the reign

synopsis: the people began to doubt Geta, and in return, so did members of the senate. The emperor began to act wildly, his temper just a reach away. It all came crashing down when a man of the senate brought the empress up and how she would fall with the emperor.

pairing: Emperor geta / empress! reader

Warnings: Violence, anger, choking, death. Protectiveness/Possessive.

The room was dim, save for the flicker of torchlight dancing across the stone walls. Geta sat at the long table, his goblet half-full, eyes fixed on the dull gleam of his dagger. He had been deep in thought, tired from the endless political maneuvering of the Senate, when the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his silence.

The door creaked open, and a figure entered—Marcus, a senator known for his sharp tongue and sharper ambitions. Geta didn’t look up as the man approached, choosing instead to swirl the dark wine in his cup.

“Geta,” Marcus began, his voice oozing with false politeness. “I trust you’re well this evening.”

Geta grunted in response, not bothering to hide his disdain. He knew this man all too well—his visits were never without some form of scheming. Marcus circled the room slowly, his fingers tracing the edge of the table as he moved closer.

“You know, it’s funny,” Marcus continued, his tone casual, though laced with something more sinister. “There’s been a lot of talk in the streets lately. The citizens are starting to wonder how much longer Rome will have to bear the burden of a violent ruler.” The man let out a chuckle, it reverberated through the room and Geta swore his fingers shook with an emitting anger.

The emperor’s eyes flicked upward for the first time, meeting Marcus’s gaze with a steely intensity. The senator smiled, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned against the table, arms crossed.

“They say,” Marcus went on, “that there will soon be a new emperor. A man who leads not with blood, but with wisdom. One who doesn’t lose himself to rage every time a senator dares to speak out. The people... they’re excited, Geta. They’re waiting for the day Rome is free of your wrath… Maybe Caracalla would be a better fit?”

Geta’s grip tightened on the goblet, the muscles in his arm tensing as he fought to contain his growing anger. “You tread on dangerous ground, Marcus,” he warned, his voice low and cold.

Breath in. Breath out. Remember your wife, the sweet laugh, those little dimples that littered your face when he told a good story.

But Marcus was undeterred. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and smug as he whispered, “Perhaps you’re the one who should be careful. People don’t fear you anymore, Geta. They’re waiting for your death. And when it comes, oh how they’ll cheer. Finally, a ruler worthy of the Empire will take your place.”

A dark laugh escaped Marcus’s lips, but it was quickly cut off by Geta’s sudden movement. In a flash, the emperor had risen from his seat, standing tall over the senator. Marcus stiffened, but continued, confidence seemed to block the mans rational fears. “What will your pretty little wife do when you’re gone, I wonder? Maybe she’ll find solace in someone with real power.”

That was the last mistake.

Geta’s fury ignited like a wildfire, burning through every shred of control he had left. Before Marcus could react, Geta’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around the man’s throat. The senator’s eyes widened in shock as he gasped for breath, his hands clawing uselessly at Geta’s iron grip.

“You dare threaten my wife?” Geta growled, his voice trembling with rage. His face was twisted in a snarl, the veins in his neck bulging as he squeezed tighter. “You think you can speak to me of death? Speak to me of weakness?” He spat the words with venom, his grip tightening as Marcus’s face turned pale, then purple.

The senator’s eyes bulged, and his mouth opened and closed in silent pleas for mercy, but Geta’s rage was far beyond words now. He lifted Marcus off the ground, the senator’s feet dangling as he struggled weakly. The torchlight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls as Geta’s expression darkened with each passing second.

“You thought you could replace me? With my own brother?!” Geta whispered, leaning in close to the dying man’s ear. “There will be no one else, dear Marcus. I am Rome, hm? I. Am. Rome.”

Marcus’s body jerked one last time, and then he went still. Geta held him there for a moment longer, the senator’s lifeless eyes staring into nothingness, before finally letting the body fall to the ground with a heavy thud.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Geta’s ragged breathing. He stood over Marcus’s corpse, his chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of his rage. Slowly, he lowered his hand, twisting and turning the jeweled rings around his fingers while wiping the sweat from his brow. His gaze dropped to the dead man at his feet, his heart still pounding in his chest, though calmer now.

A twisted calm, one born of violence.

“Threatening my liege. My Wife,” Geta muttered to himself, stepping over Marcus’s body as he made his way toward the door. “They will all burn before I leave the throne.”

The hallways were dimly lit, the flickering flames of the torches casting long, distorted shadows along the stone walls. Geta’s breathing was still ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears as he moved through the empty corridors. His hands, still tingling with the memory of squeezing the life out of Marcus, twitched at his sides. Sweat clung to his brow, slicking his skin and making his tunic stick to his chest.

He could feel the weight of what he had done. The senator’s limp body, the satisfaction that had come when his struggles ceased. It was a different kind of battle—one where no soldier could see him, and no one could speak of it.

Yet, the thrill of victory felt different this time. It wasn’t the fight he was used to. He wasn’t on the battlefield, brandishing his sword, earning the respect of his men. This victory had been personal, quiet... but more satisfying than he could have imagined. Marcus had been wrong—there would be no new ruler. Not while Geta breathed.

He thought of the senators who whispered behind closed doors, plotting to strip him of his power. He thought of the citizens who questioned his rule, who had dared to entertain the idea of another emperor, a more peaceful one. And now he thought of those who might still move against him. They had made one fatal error—they underestimated his resolve, his willingness to do whatever was necessary to protect what was his. He had been lenient for too long.

His footsteps echoed in the silence as he neared the door to his chambers. The weight of his actions, the violence he was still capable of, burned beneath his skin, but as he pushed open the heavy wooden door, the tension seemed to soften.

There, lying in the massive bed, was his wife—your form draped in blankets, the soft rise and fall of your chest showing the example of a peaceful slumber. You were so.. completely unaware of what he had just done, unaware of the thoughts that now consumed him.

Geta stood in the doorway for a moment, simply watching. His wife had been the one constant in his life, the anchor to his rage. You had calmed him when no one else could.

His breath still came in short bursts, his chest tight with the remnants of his fury. Slowly, he approached the bed, his legs heavy beneath him as if the weight of the world had finally caught up with him. He collapsed beside you, the bed creaking under his weight. He was slick with sweat, the heat of the earlier confrontation still radiating from his body. He exhaled deeply, his muscles sagging as he sunk into the mattress.

His wife stirred slightly, your hand brushing against his arm as she mumbled something incoherent in sleep. Your touch was soft, gentle—so unlike the violence that had consumed him only moments before. For a moment, Geta considered waking you, telling just what had transpired, but no. You didn’t need to know about the bloodshed, the threat to their life. You didn’t need to carry the burden of his thoughts.

But in the stillness of the night, with his wife sleeping so peacefully beside him, his mind churned with plans. He would not be overthrown. He would not be replaced by anyone who dared to dream of ruling Rome in his stead. Geta would seek out the usurpers, one by one. He would find every senator, every noble, every conspirator who dared question his rule, and he would deal with them the same way he dealt with Marcus. There would be no mercy.

His wife shifted again, pressing closer to him, your hand now resting on his chest, and for a brief moment, the thoughts of violence faded. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her warmth, the way your perfect body curved against his.

But even as his breath steadied and exhaustion began to pull him into sleep, one thought remained clear in his mind: no one would threaten his reign. No one would ever threaten you again.

And when the time came to deal with the rest of them, Geta knew, deep down, he would not hesitate. Rome was his. And he would destroy anyone who thought otherwise.

#x reader #fanfiction #gladiator x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader #geta #geta x you #geta x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #movie

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