#joseph x oc

[dzozef-art]

tfw your chess opponent is kind of a smug cheating bitch that has a magical luck borrowing ghost haunting her that you cant see or even know exists but it still makes you lose every single match in the most stupid way possible

[flare-queen]

Gods plan was always for them to end up together when the collapse burned the world

[fall-of-a-girl]

I MADE A COMMISSION OF ME AND JOSEPH!!! OMG IT'S SO CUTE

Here's the artist's Twitter!

[weetlebeetle]

I did a raffle on instagram and these were the prizes

[klaus-littlestwolf]

would you make a Klaus fic, where he and reader are under a sex spell? just a sex magic fic, you can decide on the plot🥰

love your fics btw💕

Warning:Dubcon cause sex pollen, talk and use of sex toys, desperate/passionate fucking, needy Hybrid sex, brief realization of Yandere behavior at the end

‘You’re joking!’ I exclaimed, unable to unhear what Bonnie had just told me.

‘No, not at all. We need to keep you away from everyone else because this spell can potentially effect others who come in contact with you. Caroline has already said you can stay in her parents cabin, Damon is taking you there now.’ She shooed me out of the room and outside to Damon’s car.

‘Get in the back!’ He snapped as I moved to slide into the passenger seat. ‘I don’t need this shit effecting me next-‘

‘Why can’t I just stay in the cell in the basement? That way I won’t be alone…I’m scared-‘

‘Because Klaus was hit by that shit too, we don’t know if he knows what it was yet and with how desperate he is for you every other day without being bewitched, I can’t even imagine what he would do with you now.’ He explained as if I were a small stupid child and I wanted to hit him desperately.

A warlock coming after Elena (as always) for Doppelgänger blood for one of his spells had attacked us. I had grabbed a potted plant outside of the Grille and cracked it over his head which gave Elena enough time to run and find Damon, though as he whirled around to me there was suddenly an angry Hybrid standing in front of me which gave the Warlock pause.

Klaus had seemingly taken an interest in me as soon as he arrived in town and while I don’t encourage him, I’m also not cruel or mean either, which seemed to make him think he had a chance.

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small spell bag before dumping some pink powder into his hand and blowing it at the both of us. I couldn’t help but inhale it, only breathing in more when I began choking and hearing Klaus do the same, my eyes and nose burning as I felt his hands holding onto me. Though he was still coughing himself he checked on me (which I found very sweet), hands on my face and inspecting me before brushing the powder off of me leading to me returning the favor. He had no clue what it was and neither did I but after a quick thanks I left to find my friends and a witch to tell me what the fuck I just inhaled.

Turns out we had both been choking on a very powerful potion that people had dubbed “Sex Pollen”. Many witches used to use it several hundred years ago but most stopped once people began insisting that it led to way too many people becoming effected (since all you needed to do was injest a drop) and ending up sexually assaulting whoever came across their path. The potion is typically in a liquid form but talented witches can make it in a powder, however it is about ten times more potent.

‘Stay here, theres food and water, TV, books. Everything you could possibly need. Caroline also bought you some…play things…to help. God this is so gross, they’re in the bedroom. Get out of my car-‘

‘No! How long do I have to stay here?!’ I snapped making him roll his eyes.

‘Bonnie said in the powder form it can take several hours to kick in but it lasts a few days, though with how much you breathed in probably a week at least. Go! Before you infect me too and we really have a problem!’ I grabbed the bag that Elena had packed me and slid out of the car, walking inside and locking the door behind me with a heavy sigh.

‘Fuck All Of You Assholes!’ I screamed, hating my friends for abandoning me just so they wouldn’t suffer as well before I looked around the cabin, finding the bedroom with a large California King that was quite comfortable. I also came across a basket on the bed which contained a rechargeable wand, a 7 inch pink suction cup dildo, a butt plug and a bottle of salted caramel flavored lube. ‘Why The Fuck Was She So Thorough?!’

I set the basket aside and stripped out of my shirt and jeans as I began feeling warm, climbing into the bed under the sheet and deciding to try and take a nap before I get hit with killer horniness.

The nap didn’t last more than an hour before I woke up rolling around restlessly, my body sweating now as a hot feeling in my stomach began intensifying. I couldn’t tell you how long I laid there writhing in misery before I heard a loud knock at the door, instantly hating the world that much more.

‘What are you doing here?!’ I snapped as I finally dragged myself to the front door, moody and uncomfortable which made me unable to be kind.

‘I thought I would come and assist you. Wouldn’t want you suffering through this alone, now would we?’ Klaus asked, looking every bit as put together as always but I could see in his eyes how desperate he was. I could also see his impressive bulge tenting his jeans.

‘How did you find me? I was-never mind. Go away Klaus!’ I groaned, moving to shut the door.

‘I followed Damon, he wasn’t very careful, my guess is he didn’t much care if I found you. They just wanted you away from them before they had to suffer too, your friends that you protected sent you away to save themselves. Seems really selfish to me.’ Any other day I would disagree but with how I was feeling I couldn’t argue with him, prompting me to agree.

‘You’re right…Fuck them! Couldn’t even put me downstairs! Had to leave me all alone!’ I raged as I was overcome by a cramping pain straight down to my pussy causing me to double over.

‘Invite me in Love, let’s help each other? It’s going to be days with only brief hours of relief between…let me help you get some relief?’

‘Klaus, I can’t-‘

‘You want me just as much as I want you, don’t lie!’ He growled, eyes glowing gold now as he showed how desperate he really was, so far gone that he wasn’t able to hide it anymore.

‘It’s just this stupid magic-‘

‘No! No, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you, and you…you need me too.’ His hand reached down to grab his crotch, pupils nearly swallowing his entire eye whole. ‘I can make your pussy feel so good baby, you need me! Who else could go anywhere near as long as a Hybrid, huh?’ He was right, if anyone could help me it was Klaus, especially with how pent up he is himself. ‘Please Y/n? I need to be buried in your little cunt, and you know you need it too! Your fingers can’t help you the way my cock can and I know you’ve dreamt of my cock in your needy little pussy since long before this ever happened-Fuck! I Need You! Please?!’ He begged and as I felt a rush of wetness coat my panties I whined, nodding my head. ‘Say it Y/n…Say It!’

‘Come in Klaus! Please?! I need-‘ I didn’t get to finish my statement before I was tackled to the floor with the Hybrid yanking his pants open and shoving them down enough to free himself before tearing my panties off of my body and shoving himself into me roughly.

‘So Fucking Perfect! Knew your cunt would be perfect! Tightest little cunt-Fuck! Never gonna stop fucking you baby!’

‘Yes! Don’t Stop! Fuck Klaus, your cock! So good!’ Tears leaked from my eyes as he continued thrusting into my body. The sound of skin slapping together echoing through the house and out the front door that hung on one hinge from where the Hybrid had nearly ripped it off as he entered. ‘Oh Fuck!’ I threw my head back against the carpet as my first orgasm rushed through me out of nowhere, only realizing he had finished with me when I felt the hot cum inside of me as he continued thrusting, never once even slowing down.

‘I need to feel you squeeze me again Babygirl, cum for me! Cum for your Alpha!’ The second orgasm was just as strong as the first as I came and felt his body tense up as well before he finally stilled, breathing heavily into my neck.

‘I think…we’re in trouble…’ I panted heavily and he chuckled before looking down at me, hesitating only a second before pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lovely kiss. ‘Don’t stop.’ I insisted when he pulled back, grabbing onto his neck and pressing my lips to his this time as I enjoyed our kiss.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, I wanted to take you on a date, show you how much I love you…then I was going to fuck you…wanted to make you feel so good you would never leave me again-‘

‘It’s okay, you’ve just done it backwards…you can still take me out, just after this is over because I don’t think people would appreciate you fucking me over our table.’ I teased, enjoying the genuine smile that I got from him, only ever seeing it when he looks at me which has always made me feel special.

‘That’s the spell talking-‘

‘I liked you before that you idiot! I just never really thought you were all that serious.’ I admitted, pushing him up and feeling his (once again) hard cock slide out of me as he helped me stand up.

‘How could you think that? I’ve gone out of my way to show you-your friends told you I was using you, didn’t they?’ I nodded and he huffed a heavy sigh before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a rough kiss. ‘I love you, regardless of any doppelgänger or your awful friends. After all of this I will take you out properly, I promise…but until then-‘

‘No! No more floor fucking, there’s furniture and a bed here for a reason, no more carpet, it hurts.’ I explained, feeling the rug burn against my back and ass.

‘No more rugs, but I need you now.’ He growled, lifting me by my thighs and appearing in the bedroom instantly, dropping me onto the bed. Just as he spread my legs he paused, glancing over to the table and reaching out to grab the basket with the things Caroline had left. ‘What-‘

‘Caroline left them for me. I guess she wanted to help me since I’m all alone.’

‘Interesting…does she know you well, or not?’ He wondered, picking up the butt plug and raising his eyebrows making me blush as my body started sweating.

‘Klaus! Stop the teasing and get inside me! The cramps are starting, so if you’re not going to help me then get the Fuck out and I’ll do it my-Ah!’ I cried out, feeling the rounded end of the plug pressing to my tight hole and rubbing against it. ‘Oh God!’ Klaus took the lube bottle and squeezed a healthy amount onto the plug before tossing it to the other side of the bed and pressing it back against my ass.

‘Relax Precious, this is going to make it feel so much better!’ He promised, pushing the plug harder until it popped into my hole. Klaus could feel his cock throbbing even harder at the sight of the jewel on the end of the plug. ‘You are so fucking perfect! How do you fee-‘

‘Klaus! Please?!’ I begged, pulling him closer and yanking at his shirt before getting it off and sighing in relief at the feel of his hot skin against mine.

Klaus shoved his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, finally naked as well before taking hold of his cock and pushing himself back inside of me. ‘There you are love, feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Both of your slutty little holes stuffed up?’

‘T-Too much-Never-‘

‘Never been so full before, I know Baby! I-Fuck!’ Suddenly as if he could no longer control himself he began thrusting into me frantically. ‘Mine! My Fucking Cunt!’ He snarled, Hybrid visage taking over as he fucked into me so hard I briefly wondered if he could shatter my pelvis like this.

‘Yes! Yours! All yours, don’t stop! Please don’t stop?!’

Y/n couldn’t have said how long Klaus continued like that. How long he thrust into her cunt at a painful speed, how many times the both of them had climaxed together while he still continued to fuck his (somehow still) hard cock into her, she couldn’t even say how many times he had buried his fangs into her throat in an effort to mark her as his like a werewolf marking his mate…and maybe he was. Odds are she was never getting away from him now-not that she wanted to.

It was a week later that Damon finally came back to the house to check on her finding the front door ripped open.

He ventured inside, not hearing anything and figuring that it was over for Y/n and who was inevitably Klaus that had torn the door off the hinges. He was prepared with jokes galore for the the drive back, excited to pick on the young girl for giving into the monster that had been after her for months but sadly he never got to use those jokes.

Damon opened the door to the bedroom to find his girlfriends friend snuggled into Klaus Mikaelson’s naked chest fast asleep. The Hybrid however seemed to have awoken as soon as he turned the doorknob, his yellow eyes finding his with an intensity that he had never seen. He bore his fangs, lifting his head and Damon (one of the only people who had never truly feared Klaus Mikaelson) was instantly terrified. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, alarm bells ringing in his head declaring the danger that he is in prompting him to throw up his hands instantly. As Klaus moved to sit up, the young vampire shut the door promptly and hightailed it back to his car, peeling back down the driveway.

He doesn’t know how long that stuff will take to wear off but it definitely hasn’t yet and he would not be disturbing them again!

Y/n and Klaus were in the house for nearly 2 weeks before they felt as if their bodies were back to normal though they stayed for another week after that. No one could have imagined how close such a spell would bring them…no one except Klaus of course.

The witch he had hired to make that powder had done a wonderful job, money well spent in the Hybrids mind. The spell had worked better than he ever could have imagined and it had gotten him exactly what he wanted.

The only thing left to do was to kill the witch that had helped him and ensure that his mate never learned that he was the one who had dosed her.

He finally had his girl, he couldn’t let something so trivial ruin it.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[songbirdmunson]

Vιԃҽσ Gαɱҽʂ

eddie munson x afab!reader

based off this little idea I had

• wordcount: 1.1K

18+ only or I will break your knees (lovingly) explicit content ahead, if you don’t wish to see don’t read! Steve Harrington is mentioned more than once. voyeurism sex with Eddie. enjoy!

“Can you even hear a word I’m saying right now?” Your boyfriend's silence answers the question for you as you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of you. You are all for him getting some time to unwind but lately he’s been glued to his Xbox, playing some new game with Steve that you couldn’t care to remember the name of. He’s oblivious to your frustration as he chats away with Steve, only pausing to take a sip of the Mountain Dew he keeps in his chalice on his desk.

You walk over slowly behind him, looking at the screen as he and Steve fight off zombies, any other day you’d let him play and you’d go do your thing. Today, you wanted attention, and you were going to get it, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind. “Eddie baby?” You whisper, leaning down where your head is next to his, you can hear Steve on the other end cackling about something. You poke your boyfriend in the side but he just shoos you off, not even turning to look at you.

‘He’s turning into an addict.’ You think to yourself as you finally walk yourself around his chair, stopping right in front of him. “Hey!! What are you doing babe?!” He all but shrieks out as you look down at him, smirking evilly. “Getting what I deserve Eddie.” You mumble, running your finger down the side of his face as he lets out a complaint about how you just made him die, poor thing. That will be the farthest thought in his mind in a few seconds.

Your fingers fumble with his belt, pulling it through the loops before you’re throwing it behind you. Eddie looks down at you, his eyebrows shooting up underneath his bangs. “Babe… oh Jesus Christ.” He moans out as you kiss the tip of his cock through his boxers, your fingers grip deliciously into the meat of his thighs as he rips his headset off, slamming it down onto his desk so hard you don’t know how it didn’t break.

“You wanted my attention, hmm? Little brat couldn’t even make it an hour without needing me down their throat, that’s kinda gross baby.” He growls out, his thick fingers winding their way into your hair as he pulls you down closer to where he needs you the most. You go brainless as you pull his dick out of his pants slowly, it’s so pretty, his piercing shimmering on top only makes it better. You spit onto your hand slowly before wrapping it back around the base, twisting slowly before you begin to move it up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

“You’d rather pay attention to zombies than this baby? Are you crazy?” You ask, pouting up at him as he leans his head back, a loud moan slips its way past his beautiful lips. Nobody is thinking about poor Steve on the other end of the headset, his face is beet red and his pants tight, but that would be a worry for later. “N-No, fuck, would much rather watch you use that sinful mouth of yours baby, all day.” He chokes out, the air leaving his body almost completely as you spit down onto the head, you smile up at him one more time before you dive down like you’re starved and his dick is the best meal on earth.

Shuffling forward you go down as far as you can, choking slightly as Eddie lets out another beautiful noise. You had him exactly how you wanted, he’s like putty as he sinks down into his chair. His hips are soon bucking against your face, incoherent mumbling and praises are tumbling out of his mouth as the coarse hair beneath his cock scratches against your face. It’s all thrilling, the smell of him, how he tastes, the realization that Steve and any of his other friends that are playing with him can hear you pleasuring him right now. It almost has you wanting to cum in your jeans.

You pop off only for a second, catching some air as you lick your lips slowly. “Want me to ride you in your little gaming chair?” You tease mockingly as he nods, his hair is everywhere, tangled up from where he’s been pulling on it, slightly sticking to his face from the sweat beads that are rolling down his forehead. You know they would taste delicious too, everything about Eddie does. You waste no time as soon as he gives you the go to get on him you’re pushing your pants down to your knees, your underwear are only pulled to the side as you turn around facing away from him.

Just having him in your mouth already has you wet enough that you don’t need to prep, you turn your head around over your shoulder, smiling at him wickedly before you sink down onto him. You bite back a moan as his dick stretches you out, you and Eddie had done this so many times but you’d honestly never get used to how thick he is. It’s absolutely perfect, every ridge of the veins rubbing against you in the right way, every time you go back down the head rubs against the spot that has your legs turning into jelly. “Please baby… think I’m gonna cum.. fuck!” His big hands are holding onto your hips loosely, you know his brain is so pussy whipped he can't even think straight right now.

“Next time you even think about ignoring me for your little zombies I want you to remember this baby, you understand?” You scold him, grinding your hips in a circle as you feel him shaking beneath you. “Y-yes! Yes! Promise I’ll remember, I’m sorry, fuck I’m sorry please baby right there oh my fucking go-od.” This man is down bad, you laugh a little as you lift up and down only a few more times before he breaks, you keep yourself still, feeling his cock twitching inside you as he lets out profanities that you weren’t even sure existed. “Fuck… such a good boy, filling me up. I’m so proud of you.” You coo, lifting yourself up slowly, his softening dick falling out of you, you can feel his cum leaking out and sticking to your thighs.

You lean back against Eddie, smiling before turning his face to kiss him a few times. “That was better than any of your games.” You say confidently, grabbing his headset and slipping it on. “Hey Steve, he’s all yours now hun, have fun killing Zombies.” You say, laughing wildly as Eddie’s face heats up. Steve cums in his pants that day, and he’s not even ashamed.

taglist ahead, thanks for reading! 💗

@loserboysandlithium @runningupthatvecna @wolfqueenxxx @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @magicalmysterytour13 @woahlifehitsyahuh @hellfiremunsonn @eddiemunsonfuxks @ali-r3n @guiltyasquinn @beep-beep-sherlock @barnes-bestgirl @edsstrawberryjam @micromoose @3rd-conchord @mamakitty187 @comeonatmebruh @bcmbiquinn @seatnights @scorpiosapphire @berilynzoe @floredaqueen @melodymunson @rafescorpsebride @bloodibambiidoll @gri959 @munsongirly @londonfog-chan @quinnyficsy @hauntedfawnn

[archivequinn]

Freedom ⚔ emperor geta x fem!reader

Summary: You are a servant of Emperor Geta and one night Geta asks you to do more than a servant. ao3 link Words: 6,093 Warnings: SMUT. SMUT IT'S SMUT SO MINORS GO AWAY. +18 oral sex, public sex, little bit dirty talk and whatever, unprotected sex, cumming inside. credits for dividers: @strangergraphics

This is my first time trying smut so I apologise if it was bad, my first language is not English so I apologise for any translation mistakes! If you like it, you can support me by RBing so that I can have a bigger audience. I hope you enjoy reading it. 🧡

When you step into Emperor Geta’s chamber, an icy cold hits your face, like the breath of a tomb. It feels as though Emperor Geta’s invisible eyes are watching you from between the walls.

In the center of the room stands a bed, rising like a throne, draped with a perfectly laid dark red velvet cover that declares its dominance. The patterns embroidered with golden threads shimmer like flames, but even daring to examine them up close requires courage. Seeing a wrinkle on those covers would be a crime inviting the Emperor’s wrath.

You silently place the basket in your hand into a corner. On the table sits a half-finished wine goblet. Beside it, there’s a plate with dried fruit remnants—it’s clear that Geta left in a hurry. As you tidy the table, your hand trembles while holding the goblet, because if it were to fall, it would be a harbinger of the disasters to come.

The moonlight streaming through the window falls on the columns next to the bed. The curtain sways slightly, and even this small motion breaks the silence enough to make you flinch.

You think Geta is ready to spend the night here now. Every corner has been straightened, every speck of dust wiped away, and everything is exactly as it should be—because if it’s not, Geta’s madness will find you with the first light of day. You take one last look at the bed’s cover, ensuring it’s perfectly smooth, and then check the table.

With trembling hands, you lift the wine decanter. Made of silver with delicate engravings, the decanter glimmers like a blade in the moonlight. If Emperor Geta decides to drink suddenly during the night, his goblet must always be ready. You’ve heard this rule countless times, and you know all too well how severe the consequences can be if you forget even once.

You tilt the decanter gently and begin pouring wine into the goblet. The thick, dark red liquid flows slowly into the glass, filling the room with a faint scent of wine. At that moment, in a fleeting lapse of attention, your hand slips from the decanter’s handle. For a brief instant, the decanter seems to float in the air before crashing to the ground like a lightning bolt meeting the earth. A sharp ringing echoes off the walls of the chamber.

The wine spreads rapidly across the marble floor like a bloodstain. That dreadful red seeps outward with a mercilessness that rivals the covers on Geta’s bed. Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart pounds as if it might burst out of your chest. For a moment, you’re frozen in place, as though any movement might magnify the horror of your mistake.

Geta must not see this. Absolutely must not!

You drop to your knees and frantically try to wipe the wine with your hands. Your fingers slide helplessly across the slippery marble, the crimson red staining your skin. Your breath grows uneven, sweat drips from your forehead into your eyes, but you can think of nothing else except cleaning the spill. You begin wiping the floor with the hem of your dress, desperate and panicked.

Just then, the ominous creak of the door’s hinges freezes your entire body. The door swings wide open, and Emperor Geta storms in like a raging wind. The moonlight illuminates one side of his face, while the other vanishes into darkness.

His eyes dart immediately to the ground, to the shattered decanter and the wine stain that looks like blood.

For a moment, your gaze locks on his crazed eyes, glowing in the moonlight. The corner of his lips twitches upward—it resembles a smile, but there is no warmth in it���only menace.

“Do you have something to explain to me?” he asks, leaning down toward you, his voice dropping to a whisper.

In that instant, even breathing feels impossible. Your arms fall limply to your sides, and you’re frozen, unsure of what Geta might do as the wine stain continues to spread across the cold marble.

“Please, forgive me… My Emperor. I… it was an accident,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you sink to your knees. Bowing your head to the floor, you cover the wine stain, as though you could erase your shame along with it. You clasp your hands together, bowing before him in a pleading posture. Your heart pounds mercilessly in your chest; the knowledge that a single word from him could seal your fate makes it hard to breathe.

“Stand up,” he says in a tired, deep voice. Not out of anger, but more out of exasperation. “I don’t have the energy to deal with you today. Clean it up and leave the room.”

His words carry the weight of a command, yet they lack his usual fury. His hair is slightly disheveled, and the faint shadows under his eyes reveal how exhausted he is.

“Yes, my Emperor. At once,” you reply, springing into action. Though your movements are clumsy, your trembling hands continue wiping the wine with the hem of your dress. As the stain on the marble floor slowly fades, Emperor Geta walks heavily toward his bed.

For a moment, you find yourself staring at his leather sandals and the fine silk fabric clinging to his frame.

Suddenly, Geta stops and begins to undress.

You hold your breath, lower your head, and focus on the remnants of the wine as if those stains were the most important task in the world. But the soft sound of his silk tunic falling to the floor causes your eyes to involuntarily shift toward him.

Geta had discarded the tunic, and under the moonlight, the breadth of his shoulders and the definition of his muscles resembled that of a Greek statue. His shoulders, the contours of his back… they seemed like a flawless work of art, delicately crafted by a master sculptor.

This magnificent man, whose name traveled on the tongues of everyone in the palace, always made you scoff. “You admire that madman? You must be out of your mind,” you’d think to yourself. Yet now, as you tried not to look at him, you couldn’t explain why your heart was racing so fast.

You swallow hard and lower your gaze back to the ground. The wine stain is completely gone. Quickly, you stand and place the shards of the decanter into the basket. “Forgive me, my Emperor. With your permission, I’ll take my leave,” you say, bowing your head and moving toward the door.

But just as you reach it, you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait.”

You freeze. Your eyes remain fixed on the wooden surface of the door. “Yes, my Emperor?”

“You forgot to extinguish the candle on the table,” Geta says, his tone sharper now but still tinged with fatigue.

“My apologies, I’ll do it immediately.”

You are forced to turn back. Without lifting your eyes from the ground, you walk toward the table beside the bed. As you lean forward to extinguish the candle, you can feel Geta’s presence looming above you; he’s lying on the bed, but it feels as though he’s still watching you. Your hands tremble as you hastily snuff out the candles.

“Tell me something. I can’t sleep.”

You raise your head slightly, looking at him in surprise. Is he joking, or is this some kind of game? There’s a glimmer in his eyes—tired but still menacing.

“What would you like me to tell, my lord?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Geta, reclining on the bed with his back propped against the pillows and one arm lazily stretched out to the side, speaks with a faint smile on his lips. “I don’t care. Tell me a tale, a story. But don’t be boring, not until I’m asleep.”

The subtle threat in his words seeps into your very core. Even as your knees still tremble, you find yourself standing in the middle of the room—before him, less like a servant and more like a prisoner. You clench your hands, clear your throat, and begin to speak about the first thing that comes to mind—your village. At that moment, you struggle to string your words together, avoiding Geta’s gaze.

“I… I come from a small village west of Tarentum, my lord,” you say. The words spill out slowly, your voice low but trying to remain steady. “There, my father was a farmer. Our land was small, but it was fertile. Every spring, the plains would turn green; the air would smell of lavender everywhere. At sunset, the light would shimmer over the fields like golden dust, and at night, the sky was full of stars. My mother… she used to weave small tapestries at home with my siblings…”

You pause for a moment, swallowing hard as the warmth of the memories washes over you. But Geta’s impatient voice snaps you back to reality. “And then?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, one eyebrow raised.

Your eyes drop to the floor, your breath tightening as if you’re reliving it all over again. “Then… then your armies came. At first, we saw the smoke. Rising over the forest, from the other side of the village. My mother told us to run, but it was too late. The soldiers… they set everything on fire. My siblings… they got lost in the chaos. My father tried to fight, but…”

The words catch in your throat. You clench your hand into a fist, taking a deep breath. “Then they found me. A soldier grabbed me by the hair and dragged me away. Since that day, I’ve been here, serving in the palace.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy, as a cold silence settles over the room. The final images of your village flash through your mind—the smoke, the screams, the scent of scorched earth. But Geta’s face betrays not the faintest hint of emotion. Instead, his eyes travel over you, scanning you from head to toe.

“So, a farmer’s daughter,” he says, his voice carrying a mocking undertone. “From lavender-scented fields to cleaning my chambers. What a charming story…”

The ridicule in his words cuts into your heart like a sharp blade, but you remain silent. In moments like these, silence is survival. And yet, you notice how the pain your story stirs within you has captured Geta’s attention. Perhaps some fragment of it has touched something deep within his deranged mind—or perhaps he’s merely found his entertainment for the evening.

The deep silence of the room swells, spreading like the shadows on the walls. Geta slowly turns his head, fixing his gaze on you. At first, you think you’re only imagining his eyes on you, but when your eyes meet his, you’re certain—he’s truly watching you.

“Well…” he says, his voice drowsy but tinged with a faint curiosity. “There was someone in your village, wasn’t there? Someone who made your heart race?”

The question catches you off guard. Your face flushes as you lower your gaze to the floor, clasping your hands tightly in your lap. “No, my Emperor. There was no one,” you reply softly.

Geta’s eyebrows draw together slightly, as if your answer wasn’t what he expected. Resting his head against the pillow, his gaze shifts to the ceiling, and his tone takes on a contemplative edge.

“Love…” he repeats, as though savoring the word. “Sometimes I wonder if it truly exists. Poems are written, wars are fought. But I…” He pauses, his gaze shifting back to you.

The exhaustion in his eyes deepens, giving way to a profound emptiness. “…I’ve never felt it. Not once.”

You swallow hard. For an emperor—especially one as cruel and mad as Geta—to make such an intimate confession feels almost unreal. For the first time, his face seems open, vulnerable, as though a part of his mask has slipped.

You want to say something, but the words stick in your throat. For a fleeting moment, your heart swells with an odd sense of compassion for him. The fear inside you gives way to what might be the one thing Geta needs most in that moment—understanding. But you are only a servant. How much right do you have to speak?

"What do you think?" he asks suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts once again. "Does love exist? Or is it just a fairy tale?"

You don’t know how to answer. "Your Majesty, I…" you whisper, but the words hang in the air. He has already turned his gaze away from you and back to the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, he narrows his eyes, his fingers tracing along the edge of the pillow.

"It must be a fairy tale," he mutters to himself. "Too absurd and hollow to be real."

As your heart continues to race, the words slip from your lips almost on their own, "I’ve never been in love, Your Majesty. But I believe true love exists."

The moment your words fill the room, a faint look of surprise crosses Geta’s face. You expect him to make a mocking remark, but he doesn’t. His eyes fix on you, as if trying to understand what you mean.

"True love?" he repeats, his voice both curious and skeptical. "What does that even mean?"

"I don’t know. But it must be something that stirs your heart, fills you up, and makes you forget the emptiness," you say softly but with conviction. "Like believing without seeing. You can’t hold it in your hands, you can’t see it with your eyes, but you feel it. A glance at your eyes, a touch in your voice is enough. It makes you forget your fears, it completes you."

Geta remains silent for a while, as though he’s absorbing your words. The tired expression on his face gives way to deeper contemplation.

"That has never happened to me," he says finally, his tone softened. "I’ve seen hundreds of people. I’ve taken what I wanted. There were even those who claimed to love me—or so they said. But… something inside me has always been missing. Always."

Could the emptiness within a man who has lived like a king be the despair of someone who has never truly chosen anything in his life?

"Perhaps what you’re looking for is still waiting for you, Your Majesty," you say quietly.

"Leave," he says at last. "But come back early in the morning. I want to… talk more."

Bowing your head, you quickly make your way out of the room.

As the first light of morning strikes the stone walls of the palace, you carefully prepare the table in Geta's chamber. Silver trays, gold-embellished plates, and food still steaming… Everything must be perfect. Your heart is still racing from the strange conversation you had last night. Perhaps you had dreamed it all; how could an emperor speak so candidly with a servant?

Lost in thought, you suddenly hear Geta’s voice. “You’re so quiet. Are you that happy to see me this morning?”

You quickly turn your head. Geta is standing by the door, the long fabric of his robe elegantly draped around his body as he watches you. Behind his cold gaze is that familiar weariness, but there’s also a faint smile at the corner of his lips.

“Your Majesty…” you begin, but you falter, unsure of what to say.

Geta walks slowly toward the table and pulls out a chair before sitting down. Gesturing toward you, he speaks. “Set those trays down and sit.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, your heart nearly stopping. “I—”

“That was an order,” he interrupts, his tone still gentle but carrying an authority that leaves no room for argument. “Sit at the table.”

Wiping your trembling hands on the folds of your apron, you slowly take a seat at the table, though perched on the edge of the chair, ready to rise at any moment. Noticing your hesitance, Geta raises his eyebrows and shakes his head slightly.

“This trembling of yours is starting to annoy me,” he says with a hint of mockery. Then, taking a piece of fruit from his plate, he pops it into his mouth. “Keep talking. What you said last night was interesting. Tell me about your village.”

You swallow hard. The situation feels so strange that you almost forget how to form words. But Geta’s gaze remains fixed on you, filled with an impatience to learn more.

“My village…” you begin hesitantly. “Everything was simpler there. Our small houses, our fields… But I miss the horses the most, Your Majesty. Riding them along the edge of the fields in the morning… I was free then.”

“Free.” Geta repeats, as though hearing the word for the first time. He leans back slightly in his chair, resting his chin on his hand. “Riding? Is that what it feels like?”

A smile spreads across your lips, a warmth you haven’t felt in years lighting up your face. “Yes, Your Majesty. When you’re on a horse… the wind whips through your hair, the world shrinks. It’s like… your chains disappear. It’s just you and the wind.”

Geta watches you in silence for a moment. The emptiness in his eyes seems to fill slightly; he appears to truly be trying to understand what you’re describing. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles—a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“I wish I could feel this ‘freedom,’” he says thoughtfully. “I’ve ridden horses many times, but I’ve never felt that way.”

He picks up a piece of bread, extends his arm to the edge of the table, and pushes it toward you. “Eat,” he says simply. “You look hungry.”

“Your Majesty, I can’t. I…”

“This morning, the rules are subject to my whims,” he interrupts again, his gaze hardening slightly. “And I want to have breakfast with you.”

Reluctantly, you take a piece of bread and begin eating slowly. Geta watches your movements intently, as though even this simple act fascinates him.

“You know,” he says after a while, his tone softening. “Everyone in this palace… they’re all the same. Artificial voices, fake smiles… Even their mediocrity is false. But you…”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he continues. “You’re interesting. Your village, your stories, your belief in freedom… Ordinary yet sincere. And for the first time, I think I like that.”

It’s impossible to describe how strange you feel. Yet at the same time, you grasp the truth behind Geta’s words—his loneliness, the pieces of humanity still hidden somewhere deep within him. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” you whisper. You can’t say anything more because even the slightest word would shatter the magic of this moment.

As you clean the table, your mind remains caught on Geta’s words. Why would an emperor like him find an ordinary servant interesting? And why would he openly admit it? These thoughts swirl in your mind as you notice Geta leaving the room. The echo of his footsteps, the heavy door closing behind him… You’re left standing there in silence.

A few hours pass. The morning’s conversation is almost forgotten amidst the palace’s bustling daily routine—until another servant rushes in, out of breath, and says, “Emperor Geta is waiting for you in the back garden.”

The garden? And with you? Why? No explanation is given; only the command is to be obeyed. With sweaty palms and your head lowered, you follow the order.

When you arrive at the garden, the sight before you surprises you once again. Two horses, meticulously prepared, stand waiting. Geta is beneath the shade of a tree, hands clasped behind his back, impatiently looking at the ground. When he notices you, he lifts his head, and for a moment, the stern expression on his face softens. “Come,” he says, beckoning you with his hand. “You said you missed the horses, didn’t you?” “Your Majesty, but…” you murmur, your breath catching. “I… I haven’t ridden in years. Is this… proper?” Geta approaches you with a slight smile and places a hand on your shoulder. “When you’re with me, everything is proper. Now, stop making excuses and get on the horse.”

You hesitate as you approach the horse. Your hand brushes against the cold leather of the saddle. It doesn’t feel natural, as it did when you were a child. But Geta watches you patiently. Finally, with a trembling breath, you climb onto the horse. Geta steadies you with a firm grip around your waist, ensuring you’re secure before swiftly mounting his own horse with practiced ease.

The movement of the horse creates a brief moment of tension in you, but as the steps smooth out, your body adjusts to the rhythm. Something you had almost forgotten begins to resurface: the touch of the wind on your face, the freedom within the gentle trot. Your eyes well up involuntarily.

Guiding his horse skillfully, Geta rides closer to you. “See? You haven’t forgotten how to ride,” he says. His voice seems stripped of its usual arrogance, replaced with admiration and curiosity. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve missed this feeling so much…”

Geta remains silent for a while, as though he’s sharing the same feeling, though he’d never admit it. He orders the guards trailing behind you to stop. Now it’s just the two of you, heading toward the depths of the woods in the back garden.

Geta approaches the horse you’re riding. He halts his own horse beside yours and, without warning, pulls himself up onto yours, giving you no time to turn and look at him. His hands grip your waist firmly as he whispers, “Let go of the reins. I’m steering now.”

Your heart begins to race. Feeling his strong arms around your waist, the warmth of his breath brushing against your neck… No matter how much you try to relax, your body tenses. “Calm down,” he says in an almost teasing tone. “I won’t let you fall.”

As the horse quickens its pace, you feel Geta’s hold tighten. His grip is firm but reassuring. The space between you has completely disappeared. For a moment, you sense the rhythm of his breathing aligning with the beat of your heart.

After a while, Geta pulls the reins, slowing the horse to a stop. “You see?” he says, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “Stop tensing up,” he murmurs.

In that instant, you catch a sincere spark in Geta’s gaze—a spark that seems to beg you to see him not as an emperor, but as a person.

With the reins back in his hands, the horse’s movements return to a steady rhythm. Having the Emperor this close to you, feeling his breath on your neck, is utterly overwhelming.

“Calm down,” he whispers again. But instead of soothing you, it has the opposite effect. Calm down? That’s impossible. Because Geta’s presence seeps into you, breaking through the palace walls and settling deep within.

For a while, you ride in silence. The horse’s gentle rhythm, the sound of hooves hitting the ground, creates a melody of its own. But the silence is broken when Geta leans closer to your shoulder, almost pressing his lips to your skin. “May I ask you something?” he says, his voice low, almost intimate. “Of course, Your Majesty…” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You said you truly believe in love. Do you know where to find it?”

This was not the question you were expecting. For a moment, you don't know what words to choose. But with Geta's hands holding you tightly and the sense of security created by being this close to him, you gather your courage. "Yes," you finally say. "I believe it's real. But maybe... it can only be found rarely." Before you know it, Geta pulls on the reins to stop the horse, and you feel as though all time in the world has halted. The rhythmic breathing of the horse envelops your lightly swaying bodies. Geta slowly leans in, his head passing by your shoulder, his chin nearly resting against it. "Turn to me," he whispers. There is something beyond a command in his voice—a fragile yet passionate call, an invitation of desire. You turn slowly, your body trembling slightly. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, both of your breaths catch. "Your ordinariness… it's far more beautiful than I thought," he says in a low voice. And with those words, he brings his lips closer to yours. The first touch is light and cautious, as if he's afraid of breaking the magic of the moment. As one hand gently brushes against your back, his other hand touches beneath your chin, drawing you closer. The warmth between his lips makes you forget the chill of the wind. As you feel his breath and the weight of his touch, time seems to come to a complete standstill. Your heartbeat quickens, but you realize it's not from fear—it's from a sudden, unexplainable pull toward Geta. When your lips part, he tilts his head slightly and rests his forehead against yours. "This… this is what I wanted to feel," he says in a low voice, almost as if speaking to himself. And then, again. As Geta's lips meet yours once more, all the sounds and movements of the world seem to disappear in an instant. The horse's slow, steady breaths, the soft rustling of the wind, the distant chirping of birds... all of it fades into the background. His lips move gently and carefully, as if he’s trying to savor the moment and explore you at the same time. The hands on your waist act as an anchor, pulling you even closer to him as if ensuring you won’t fall. The pressure of his fingers is light yet commanding; it both supports and completely possesses you. At first, you are lost in the magic of the moment, but then Geta takes the kiss a step further. When he slightly parts his lips, his warm breath grazes yours, and you feel the delicate, inviting touch of his tongue against your lips. The sensation spreads through your body like an electric current. When you respond, the kiss becomes deeper and more intense. The movement of his tongue is slow yet passionate, as though he’s exploring you with every motion, wanting to fully claim the moment. The taste of Geta's lips… how does an emperor taste? For a fleeting moment, you notice the subtle traces of wine and spices on his lips; at the same time, the flavor seems to reflect his dual nature—both noble and wild. But instead of unsettling you, this combination draws you in further. His fingers settle lightly just above the curve of your hips, holding you with a gentle firmness that reminds you of his control. You can feel the faint press of his chest against yours, and your heartbeat begins to synchronize with the accelerated rhythm of his. The movements of his tongue grow bolder, more fervent, as if he doesn’t just want to feel you but conquer you entirely. The mingling of your breaths during the kiss creates a sensation that is both soothing and maddening all at once.

As you and him ride the horse deeper into the forest, the trees seem to close in around you, their leaves whispering secrets only known to lovers. Geta's hands tighten around your waist as he pulls you closer, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that can no longer be denied. The horse snorts softly beneath you as you dismount together.

Geta lifts you off the saddle and sets you down on the soft grass beside the lake. He gazes at your blushed face for a moment before his mouth descends upon yours once more. His tongue dances as he slowly works his way down your neck, leaving trails of kisses that make you shiver.

His teeth graze against the tender skin of your throat, sending shivers down your spine. He sucks gently, his mouth hot and demanding. His hands roam over your legs, tracing the curves of your thighs with a gentle touch that belies the passion burning within him.

As Geta's hands continue to explore your body, you can't help but feel a growing sense of desire. His fingers dance across your legs, tracing the curves of your thighs with a gentle touch. He pauses at the waistband of your dress, his fingertips grazing against the soft fabric as he pulls it upwards.

His mouth never leaves your neck as he sucks gently on it, his tongue strokes and nips at the tender skin. Your core burns with an intense longing for more.

Geta's hand slips beneath the hem of your dress, his palm pressing against the warmth between your legs. You gasp softly into his mouth as he begins to stroke you through the fabric of your panties. His fingers move in a slow, deliberate rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your desire for him growing with every passing moment. His touch sends sparks flying through your veins.

As Geta's fingers deftly undoes your dress, you feel a thrill of anticipation run through your body. He pushes the fabric aside, revealing the curves of your breasts to his eager gaze.

His mouth descends upon one of your nipples, sucking it gently. You gasp softly as he begins to lick and flick at it with his tongue. His fingers knead at the other breast, rolling and pinching it gently as he continues to lavish attention on the other one. 

Geta's mouth moves from one breast to the other, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive you wild. He sucks your nipples hard, making them pucker and stiffen with desire. His teeth graze against them, sending shivers down your spine as he bites gently.

As he works his way around your chest, Geta's hand dips lower, slipping beneath the hem of your dress once more. This time, however, it's not just for show - he slides a finger beneath the fabric of your panties, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

You're wet and ready for him, and he knows it. His finger strokes against your pussy, gathering the moisture that's pooling there before sliding back up to tease you once more. 

Geta's fingers continue to stroke against your pussy, teasing you mercilessly as he works his way down your body. 

Finally, he dips lower still, his mouth closing over your pussy like a warm blanket. His tongue darts in and out of you, stroking against your inner walls.

You're powerless to resist the sensation of his mouth on you. Geta's tongue strokes and laps at you with a slow, deliberate rhythm that makes you feel like you're melting into his mouth. As he eats at you, Geta's hands move up to cup your ass cheeks, pulling you closer to his mouth as he devours you. You can feel yourself getting hotter by the second, your desire for him reaching a fever pitch.

As he eats at you, Geta's hands move up to cup your ass cheeks, pressing you closer to his mouth as he devours you. You can feel yourself getting hotter by the second, your desire for him reaching a fever pitch.

Geta's tongue moves in and out of you with a slow, deliberate rhythm, stroking against your inner walls. He uses his nose to rub against your swollen bud, creating a sensation that's both gentle and intense.

He begins to move faster and more furiously, as if trying to drive you wild. He uses it like a fuckin' tool, plunging it deep into your pussy and then withdrawing it slowly before repeating the motion.

Your body is trembling with anticipation as he continues to devour you.

Suddenly, Geta adds his fingers to the mix. He inserts two fingers into your pussy alongside his tongue, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he continues to eat at you.

The sensation is overwhelming - it's like nothing you've ever experienced before. You're powerless to resist the pleasure that's building inside of you, and you know that it won't be long before you come.

Finally, with a gentle pressure on your clit, Geta's fingers bring you over the edge. You cum hard and fast, your body trembling with pleasure.

As you're still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, Geta turns you around gently but firmly. He bends you over, his hands grasping at your hips as he pulls them towards him.

With a swift motion, he takes off his clothes. His cock springs free from its confines, standing tall and proud as he leans against you.

You can feel his hardness pressing against your back, and Geta's hands move up to stroke himself.

"My God," he whispers into your ear. "Your body is perfect for me, just like I guessed it would be."

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he begins to slide slowly inside of you.

"You're so tight," he breathes.

He pauses for a moment, his cock buried deep within you. You feel yourself relaxing around him, accommodating his size and shape with ease.

"I'm going to make this last forever," he whispers. "I want to savor every moment with you."

With that, Geta begins to move faster and more urgently, his hips pumping in and out of you in a slow but deliberate rhythm. His fingers are between your legs now, rubbing circles around your clit with a gentle pressure. Geta's other hand is cupping one of your breasts, squeezing and releasing it with each thrust. His thumb brushes against your nipple, sending sparks through every cell in your body.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. "I love how you respond to me."

As he picks up speed, his words become more urgent and passionate. You can feel him getting closer and closer to orgasm, his cock throbbing with desire as he continues to pump in and out of you.

He leans in to kiss you deeply. His lips are soft and gentle, but his tongue is insistent as it explores your mouth. You can feel him inhaling your scent, drinking in the aroma of your skin.

Despite his best efforts to be gentle, you can sense that he's on the edge of pleasure. His cock throbs with desire as he continues to move inside of you.

"May I cum inside?" he whispers against your ear. "Please?"

You nod silently, unable to speak through the intensity of the moment. 

With a final thrust, he comes deep within you. You feel his cock pulsing with release as he empties himself into your pussy.

As he comes, you feel your own body responding. Your pussy tightens around his cock as you come hard and fast, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

Together, you ride out the wave of pleasure, your bodies trembling with release as you cum together in perfect sync.

Geta turns to you, gently wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. The warmth of his body envelops you so strongly that it almost makes you feel safe, and you struggle to steady your breathing. "Look at that," he murmurs, tilting his head toward the sky. "I watch this every day. The sun sets, the stars come out. Yet... it feels like this view has meaning for the first time." He takes a deep breath, as if trying to suppress the adrenaline still coursing through him. "You know," he continues, turning his head slightly to lock eyes with you. "I've tasted power my entire life. Palaces, armies, victories... But I never understood what freedom feels like. And that absence has always suffocated me." He holds you tighter, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. "But now... Here with you... For the first time, I can feel what freedom is. It's like... the world belongs only to the two of us." For a while, neither of you speaks, simply breathing together. As the sky fades into complete darkness and the stars emerge, Geta's arms wrap around you like a shield. In that moment, there is only him. Just Geta and you. The rest of the world feels distant, its voice silenced. Maybe neither of you wants to end this moment. Maybe you both know this infinity, this freedom, is too beautiful to be real. But in this moment, you belong to no one and nothing. Only to each other.

taglist: @userchai @runningupthatvecna @multyfangirl @scarletwolfxox @mylittlepimp @25bohemianmoons @nicholaschavezslut69

[whore-ibly-hot]

'Photo Shoot'

Yan!Photography Student x GN!reader x Yan!Art instructor (Joseph and Mr. Burton)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: All characters are legal age, multiple yanderes, dub-con touching, perverted thoughts, voyeurism, student/teacher dynamics, nude photography, no real mention of specific genitals

AN: I'm so eepy right now... Also, if you like this fic, use the tags on my masterlist to find all the other Yan!Boarding School writings.

The smoke coming from the corner of the room ceases when Mr. Burton snuffs a cigarette butt out on an... ashtray? From where you're sat, you can see him putting it out on what looks more like a student pottery bowl. That strikes you as odd, but he can be very critical of others art so you can't be suprised. Cracking his knuckles and leaning back a little, he turns to you and the extremely quiet classmate beside you, Joseph.

"Alright, lets get this show on the road, yeah? Joseph, you're our camera man, I'll have you leading this thing, running the camera's and I'll give some creative direction. Student and the master, I can finally teach some actual fucking art." Mr. Burton mumbles, as Joseph quickly begins setting up the camera on a tri-pod. You feel odd about him to say the least, despite you being the 'muse', as Mr. Burrton calls you, Joseph's barely made eye contact with you. You agreed right off the bat when Mr. Burton asked you to help one of his favorite students with some anatomy shoots, you like Mr. Burton, he's funny, honest, and that's refreshing, given you worry some people at this academy have ulterior motives. Still, you had some concerns as you fiddle with the thin top you wore at Mr. Burton's request. "Mr. Burton?" you ask, and he looks up from where he's mumbling about something with Joseph. He motions for the young man to keep working as he strolls over.

"I'm nervous." You admit, hand rubbing at your elbow as an attempt to self-soothe. "I don't usually get, nude, on camera, and i-it's not that I don't trust you, sir, but-" He puts his hand up to cut you off, gently rubbing your shoulder. "Woah, woah. I get it, I get it." He assures you, tone comforting. "You're my student, and you've got great, great potential. I've been on the art scene, kid, I see the burnout path some people go down, I see the ways people exploit and get exploited. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. If you get uncomfortable, I'll pull you out. And trust me, being in the nude for art starts to feel perfectly normal after a while, okay?" He pauses, then sighs. "Okay, it's comfortable except for being cold as hell." He laughs.

You chuckle in return, but there's still a bit of worry. He can tell, and leans in. "What is it that worries you, exactly? If it's insecurity, trust me, the real artists are those marketing execs who can photoshop a skinny model and make change up the whole idea of beau-"

"It's not that sir, I promise. I'm just worried about other people seeing, you know? I'm worried about it getting spread around, or people getting bad ideas about me." You admit, face a little pale. Mr. Burton's brows furrow, and he slaps his hand down on his jeans. "Joseph, come here!" He yells.

Joseph jumps, hands shaking as he almost knocks over his tripod. "But- uh, the cameras-" He squeaks out, and Mr. Burton shakes his head. "You're one of the best photographers I've ever met, Joseph, I know damn well that cameras been set up for well over ten minutes already. Come here, don't be shy, don't be weird. You're freaking out the subject." At the idea him staying away is freaking you out just as much as him coming up to you, Joseph walks over. "H-hi." he greets, holding out his hand. You shake it, and it is particularly sweaty.

"Joseph is a great photographer, my best student and possibly one of the best I've ever seen. I assure you, he's a good kid. He's dedicated to his craft, this isn't a complex scheme for him to fence some nudes of you to the highest bidder." The young man's eyes widen exponentially as Mr. Burton makes his assertion, and instinctually puts his hands up in surrender. "No, no! I would never, ever. Do I- do I come off as that kind of creep, if I do I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that at all, I just struggle with, well, some issues like that." Joseph visibly frowns, and Mr. Burtons hand tenses from it's spot on the table.

"You are pretty creepy, Joseph." Mr. Burton admits, making the boy flush as the teacher playfully pushes his head. "This'll be good, good art pushes outside of comfort zones, yeah? Let's get all set up." He claps his hands together as he goes to stand behinf the camera with Joseph. You strip, and sit awkwardly before the camera in front of a messy brick wall with various stains and prints on it from Mr. Burton's studio. Mr. Burtons licks his lips subconsciously as he looks over your meek form, the clears his throat. "Okay, first position, mermaid pose. Lets get those legs to the side."

The shoot continues on for a while, until Mr. Burton suggests a more 'raw' shoot. That's how you find yourself posing, hands over your chest area and thighs ever so slightly parted while Mr. Burton sits behind you, also nude. You worried about it being inappropriate, mostly for his sake. "Couldn't this... I mean, I'm willing to do it if you think it'll be good art, but won't you get in trouble if people find out?" You ask, turning over your shoulder a bit. He scoffs again, and shakes his head. "No self-respecting person with credentials like mine would teach these silver spoon brats art, I'm all they've got." He assures you, going to move an arm around your waist from behind.

"What composition do you want, sir?" Joseph asks, face red as he uses every ounce of will-power to try and suppress an erection at the sight of you and the older man. He'll worry about the new and conflicting feelings later. He's got enough photos to die happy, but the fact you seem so willing fills him with a delusional sense of your interest in him.

"It's your shoot, Joseph. Take over directing." Mr. Burton calls back, and Joseph doesn't seem sure. "I don't know, sir, you have more of a vision than me, and-" Mr. Burton groans, rolling his head back like a kid throwing a tantrum. "Jesus christ, kid. How many times do I have to hammer in that you're a good artist? You can direct your own shoots-" He notices the violently red flush of Josephs cheeks, and chuckles. "Or is this more an issue of being to embarrassed, because I told you-" He waves his free arm around. "We are pushing the envelope, making something raw, pushing ourselves out of comfort zones. To be a great artist, you have to not be afraid to tell your NUDE SUBJECT, to spread their legs and bare it all." Joseph is completely silent, stun-locked by his gruff teachers comments. He begins examining the shot in the view-finder after taking a few shaky breathes.

"Alright, Sir... of course." He swallows, and his shaky hands adjust the lens. "I want to-to try and delineate from what other people think nude shoots are, away from like... porn and stuff. Raw, but intimate, I think." Mr. Burton nods for him to continue, and seeing the interest in your eyes at his creative direction, Joseph gets a little more confident. "If you're okay with it-" He addresses you now. "I'd like Mr. Burton to be able to touch you, nothing too invasive, just a kiss on the neck or the shoulder, maybe letting him hold your thigh?" Joseph keeps his tone soft and asking, sure to imply you can say no.

"That's alright, I trust him." You mumble, looking at the gruff art instructor and seeing to your surprise a soft look on his face. "I'm honored, little muse." He teases, and the nickname makes you flush. "Oh, and you too, Joseph, we've not talked much, um, but you seem really dedicated, I'm sure I'm in good hands."

Shit. Well, so much for keeping his dick down, but at least he doesn't think you can see from the way the lighting is set up. He nods, and you shiver, feeling a cold pair of lips and a thin stubble scratch at the surface of your shoulder. "Are they cold?" Mr. Burton chuckles, placing a few more small kisses as you hear the camera shutter snap. "I'm sorry, I can't control the thermostat in here, all this money and they can't afford to make sure I don't freeze my dick off doing my job." He's always so grumpy, even when he's trying to be sweet. You close your eyes and try to relax into the feeling. It escalates occasionally, hands on your thighs as he kneads gently at your flesh, occasionally making a complaint about something or picking at Joseph, who keeps making an odd series of grunts, but you assume he's just breathing heavy from being so focused.

It culminates in you being positioned over him, as if playing the playful or dominate role in some sort of erotic moment. Mr. Burtons hands rest on your ass, his firm yet not fully erect cock a little too close to your hole. You're chest to chest with him, and while he's relishing in the feeling, Joseph makes a hand motion, and he knows its time to pull away, at least for this ession. He's smart, knows not to rush it, and he knows this is more than enough material for the vouyeristic camerman.

"I think we got some good shots, i-it's getting late. I'll go grab something from the vending machine while you too warm up." Joseph scarmbles away, camera bag held oddly across his crotch area. Mr. Burton smiles as you slide off from him, flushed as the weight of your previous position hits you. "You were great, a real professional." He urges, scooting forward to sit beside you.

"Thank you, sir. I was trying not to get too flushed or anything, I hope I didn't sweat too much." You admit, and he shakes his head to assure you. "Nah, you did fine, but if I could make a suggestion?" You look up. "No real intimate scene like that doesn't have a couple kissing. On your neck and shoulders was fine, but lets face it, people do more than neck each other when they're getting it on like that." He glances at the door, making sure Joseph is still doing whatever it is he's doing out there. He didn't discuss this part with the young artist, but let's face it, learning to be one step ahead, to protect your work and your muse, is something he's gonna have to learn anyways. "Will you let me show you?" he asks, voice low as he leans closer to your face.

You glance at the camera. "It's not running, though shouldn't we wait for joseph to take the photo?" You ask, a little more unsure about the artistic integrity of the action. He shakes his head as he lets his stubble scratch your cheek. "This'll be practice, yeah? For next time..."

"Next time?"

"Next time." He mumbles, lips feverishly sealing against your as he hunces over your form, cold bodies pressing together and leaving goosebumps which trail down your form as the session closes out.

[ekkkkey]

there will be games! (chapter IV)

summary: Cassandra, a quiet and loyal wife to the much older Senator Tiberius, accidentally attracts the unsettling attention of Emperor Caracalla at a lavish feast hosted by Senator Thraex...

warnings: 18+ minors dni, this is dark, noncon, dub-con, caracalla is a freak (he's cute tho), geta is mean too

word count: 4k

chapter I

chapter II

chapter III

«No woman could feel safe if her beauty or name aroused the emperor's curiosity.»

-Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars (Caligula, Chapter 36)

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

"Please, mistress, stay still," the slave murmured, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a finger, leaving behind a thin layer of ointment.

Cassandra lowered her eyes, as if the girl could somehow know how she had earned that wound. Perhaps she suspected. Perhaps she knew for certain—there had been enough witnesses to her disgrace.

She had almost forgotten what it was like to live without the emperor invading her thoughts. What had occupied her mind before Rome? Before all of this? Her family. Giving her husband a son, an heir. Becoming an honorable wife and mother, someone her father and sisters could be proud of.

Would they be proud now, if they knew the truth? Would they smile and nod, the way Antonia’s father had done before the crowd? What would they feel if they knew that the cruel, shameless emperor had begun haunting her dreams? And she—she had started turning away from her husband, recoiling at his touch. Everything reminded her of what she had endured. And the worst part? Her husband’s touch felt worse.

The games were supposed to continue today, but judging by the relentless downpour, they would likely be canceled again. The emperors would not take it well.

Tiberius paced the room, irritation evident in every step as he waited for the slaves to finish dressing her. He was growing more restless by the day, lost in his own thoughts, seemingly oblivious to her shattered state.

Once she was ready, his gaze softened.

Her husband pulled her close and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips.

A shudder ran through her at the thought that Emperor Caracalla would have surely enjoyed knowing that Tiberius was now kissing the very mouth he had defiled.

She had no idea where her husband was taking her, and her confusion only grew when they stepped into a grand chamber three times the size of their own. Only the most powerful could live in such luxury. Cassandra’s gaze landed on General Acacius, standing beside his wife, Lucilla. They were clearly expecting Tiberius—but not her, if the general’s surprised look was anything to go by.

Servants brought wine and delicacies, but Cassandra didn’t touch them. She sat stiffly, nervous, unsure why she was here. Tiberius and Acacius moved to the side, speaking in hushed tones. Lucilla, ever the gracious hostess, smiled warmly and made light conversation, filling the silence until the men returned.

"Tell him what they’ve done this time," Acacius said, quiet yet firm.

Lucilla met his gaze, then looked at Tiberius, then finally at Cassandra.

"They sent the Praetorians. They knew I wouldn’t come willingly," she said.

Cassandra didn’t need names. She already knew who she meant.

"And what did those madmen want now?"

"They wanted me to adopt them. To declare them my sons before the people of Rome," Lucilla said, lips curling in disgust. "Oh, Geta was upset when I declined. But Caracalla… he had another proposal. One I refuse to repeat."

"That insolent whelp!" Tiberius hissed, as if it were his own wife they had insulted.

She could feel her ears and cheeks burning. Lucilla had the strength to refuse, backed by her husband, the general, the shadow of her dead father—the emperor—and the love of the people. Cassandra had nothing. Her husband was her only shield, but he didn’t notice what was happening, and even if he had, there was little he could do about it.

"Their antics are getting worse every day! How much longer are we going to tolerate this?" her husband whispered again.

"Patience, my friend, patience. I’ll handle it," Acacius reassured him, and Tiberius relaxed, his tension easing.

No more was said about the emperors, but Cassandra sat there, as if on needles. What had they talked about? What were they planning? Unfortunately, the conversation shifted to something else and didn’t return to the same topic. She wasn’t allowed to interfere in such matters. Lucilla excused herself, citing business to attend to, and soon after, Tiberius commanded Cassandra to return to their quarters since there was no more company for her.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

The palace was cold and empty. Morning had barely begun, and most noblemen were still asleep. Cassandra shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her bare shoulders and arms. There was no need to rush, so she walked slowly along the covered terrace, watching the rain.

One way or another, he would find her. As long as she remained in the palace, she would never be safe. The realization brought her an odd sense of calm. Let him do as he pleased.

"What business did General Acacius and his wife have that warranted your visit? Has something happened?"

That wasn’t Caracalla’s voice.

Cassandra turned to face the unexpected guest—Emperor Geta.

He looked even gloomier than usual today. Dressed in black and gold, with no laurel to soften his appearance, his face powdered white and his eyes rimmed in red, he resembled the harbinger of death more than an imperial ruler.

It was impossible to miss his anger. Geta, though trying to keep his composure, couldn’t hide it. His jaw clenched beneath his pale skin, and his lips were pressed into a tight line.

And his eyes—oh, those eyes. Exactly the kind that should belong to a herald of darkness—dark, vast, as though no light could reach beyond his irises. Not the transparent, innocent, deceptive blue ones.

"My husband is close to the general, and I enjoy Lucilla’s company. She is a decent woman," Cassandra answered calmly. She had nothing to hide.

"Oh yes, Lucilla," he said, his voice dropping, rougher now, his lips twisted. "My brother is captivated by her as well."

She remembered what Lucilla had said—how the emperors had asked her to adopt them. Remembered how they told her she looked like their mother. And how Caracalla had forced her to wear his mother’s robes. Even now, she stood there wearing his mother’s tunic, The cloak, the earrings, the bracelets, the rings—none of them were hers. And Geta knew that too.

Had his conversation with Lucilla upset him this much? Who else could cut an emperor so deep? Well—perhaps only another emperor.

"And you… you enchant him too, don’t you, little bird?"

His tongue darted out, wetting his pale lips—a nervous habit, perhaps. He stepped forward again, then again, until he was so close she could feel his breath. One more step, and they’d be too close.

"That’s what he calls you, isn’t it?"

Here’s no warmth from him, just coldness, like he’s made of marble. And he smells different, not sweet at all; she can clearly sense the familiar scent of powder, but the sharp herbal scent that lingers around him is unfamiliar.

Geta, despite his involvement in her torment, had always seemed distant to her, withdrawn, uninterested in the games his brother played. Or so she thought. Caracalla wanted something—Geta indulged him. That’s how it had been until yesterday evening, when one of the brothers had claimed something that wasn’t his.

"I’ve always been his," the emperor breathed. "I shared everything with him. Protected him. Stood by his side. I love him."

His thumb brushed the wound at the corner of her lips. He knew. He knew exactly who had done this to her.

"We forgive a lot when it comes to family—even when that family is insane. Don’t we?” His voice dropped lower, darker. “And this is how he repays me? With mockery?"

She didn’t understand, but his gaze darkened even further, his brows knitting together, aging his young face.

"I… I’m sorry that you and your brother are at odds…"

"At odds?" He let out a bitter, low laugh. "Oh, this isn’t a quarrel. But he knows better than anyone how to wound me."

A cold hand cupped her cheek, tilting her face up. He was taller than his brother, his hand was rougher.

"And your rejection wounded me, little bird. Am I so unappealing? Or do you simply prefer my brother?"

She barely stopped herself from pulling away. No, not this again. She had learned to endure Caracalla—but not both of them.

What twisted game was this for her attention? They could take her by force, anytime, anywhere. Caracalla already did. So why did Geta care whether she showed him favor?

"If he won’t share, I’ll take what I want myself."

And he did.

They were alike and yet so different. His touch may be cold, but his mouth is like his brother’s—greedy, hot. He was rougher. No smiles, no soft touches—his hand clamped down on her waist, tight enough to bruise. Teeth sank into her lower lip, then a hot tongue traced the same spot, creating a sharp contrast.

"He took you from your husband, now I’m taking you from him. What do you think?" he whispers into her mouth.

She didn’t want to answer. She wanted to pull away, to run. The sound of rain mixed with the pounding of her own heart. He looked different now. The powder was gone from his lips, and Cassandra could still taste it on her tongue after their kiss. His lips were red, full, and gave life to his pale face. He was handsome. In his own way. Caracalla was handsome too. But both of them were corrupted, debauched, greedy. What is she supposed to do?

"Please, don’t involve me in this! I beg you! I’ll be leaving soon, and you’ll never see me again, I promise!" she mumbled.

His eyes flickered with barely contained irritation.

"Do you beg my brother the same way? And what—he just lets you go?" A rough laugh escaped his lips.

Was this all about Caracalla? Does he really want to get under his brother’s skin this much?

Cassandra had three younger sisters—she had raised them after their mother died, fought with them, argued with them. But she had never wanted to truly hurt them.

But these two—twins. Co-rulers. The most powerful men in Rome. No one could wound them except each other.

A strong hand grabs hers once more, sliding the ring off her left hand’s fourth finger. Geta twisted the delicate band between his fingers—so simple, compared to the heavy signet rings adorning his own hand—before removing one from his pinky and replacing it with hers. Now, her fragile, tiny ring rested on his pinky.

"Now we’re bound, huh? The vein leads straight to the heart, right, little bird?" He seemed like himself again, the brooding crease gone, his eyes no longer angry. But still, he mocked her.

"The vein of love," they had told her and Tiberius when she married him, claiming it ran through the fourth finger and bound spouses together. Now she had neither love nor the ring—only a large gold signet with a blue stone.

"Now go, I’m no longer holding you," he said, swiping his tongue over his lips again, a half-smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, as if he’d done something wicked.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

Not wanting to tempt fate, she nearly ran back to her chambers, rushing past the very spot where Caracalla had defiled her mouth just a day ago. Gods, this entire palace felt like nothing but a place of fear and shame. Now, she was terrified Caracalla might find out about today. Cassandra stopped herself. Since when did the opinion of another man matter more than her own husband’s? It was him she had betrayed. It was him she had been unfaithful to. Not Caracalla.

The thought of running to her father, or even confessing everything to her husband, Lucilla, or anyone else, spun through her mind again and again. She didn’t care anymore. If the Gods wouldn’t listen to her prayers, if they had abandoned her to be torn apart, what did she have left to lose?

This time, she was truly resolved. If Tiberius wouldn’t leave with her, she would ask for a divorce. She hadn’t given him an heir, she had dishonored him and his house by lying with another man. Let her reputation be ruined, let her be sent back to her father in disgrace, let her name be erased from the inheritance, but at least she would be free.

As she angrily packed the few things she had, her hands trembled and her thoughts raced. It was his fault. He swore to protect and honor her, yet he was so consumed by his own affairs that he still failed to see what everyone else already had. She didn’t belong to him anymore. She didn’t even belong to herself.

"What are you doing?" Hearing her husband’s voice, Cassandra didn’t turn around.

"I’m leaving, with or without you," the words finally escaped her lips, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her.

He didn’t answer immediately, but his heavy hand landed on her shoulder, forcing her to turn.

"Hit me, tie me up, do whatever you want. I can’t stay here anymore!"

To her surprise, Tiberius was calm, subdued. His hand gently stroked her cheek, and she immediately felt a wave of disgust at the bad memories.

"Please, just one night," he pleaded, his voice full of desperation. "Just one night, and I’ll lay Rome at your feet. If you want, you can go back to the villa, or to your father, but not now. Not today."

Cassandra didn’t love him. Right now, she even hated him, but her heart softened, and despite all her self-scolding, she had no choice but to agree. One last night.

"In the morning, l'm leaving," she said firmly.

She'd never been so resolute. When you have nothing left to lose, there's no fear.

That's what she thought.

The rest of the day, Cassandra stayed in her chambers, comforted by the thought that tomorrow everything would end.

No more games, no more emperors, no more palaces, no more humiliations.

Maybe she'd stay with her husband and give him a son after all, or maybe she'd ask for a divorce and return to her father, childless and unmarried, but with what little honor she had left.

She glared at Geta's signet ring with hatred. What if he hadn't claimed her today? Would she have endured her brother's debauchery until the end of the games? Probably.

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. So, should she thank him? She had just reached to pull the ring off when a sharp knock at the door made her freeze. Who could it be? Tiberius wouldn’t knock.

"Imperial Guard! Open up!" a voice commanded from the other side.

Night had long fallen. A visit at this hour could mean nothing good.

Still, she obeyed, schooling her face into something unreadable as she pulled the door open.

"Come with us, domina. You’re expected."

There was no room for argument; that much was clear.

Not wanting to be dragged through the halls like a criminal, Cassandra followed the Praetorians. But inside, panic twisted her stomach, her palms damp with sweat. This wasn’t just some summons. Something was happening. Something final.

She expected to be taken to Caracalla’s chambers—but no, they led her straight to the throne room. And when she saw her husband kneeling on the cold marble, with General Acacius and Lucilla standing nearby, surrounded by Praetorians, a terrible weight settled in her chest.

She wanted to run.

This wouldn’t end well.

Then she saw them. And she realised she probably wouldn’t survive the night. They weren’t thinking about her anymore—not their petty games, not their rivalry, and certainly not her body. Before her stood not bickering brothers, but emperors—furious, merciless, ready to pass judgment.

They didn’t even look like themselves. Both had clearly been dragged from their beds. Geta was wrapped in a red silk robe, barefoot, without his usual powdered face. He looked young—almost boyish—with his trembling lips and restless movements.

And Caracalla… to meet Caracalla’s eyes now was to court death. She couldn’t tell who he hated more—her or the ones who had betrayed them. Though, the difference was probably negligible.

The emperor is vulnerable. Cassandra watches as he pulls the sheet tighter around himself, stripped of his makeup and fine clothes—young, looking almost innocent, just like his brother. He’s irritated, uncomfortable that she’s seeing him like this, his lips, red even without paint, twisting in displeasure. She almost let out a nervous laugh, but there was no room for laughter now.

Pretorians shoved her to her knees next to her husband, doing it roughly, without any care. Acacius and Lucilla have already been dragged from the throne room—their sentence has been passed, judging by the rage still burning in the emperors' eyes. Now it’s their turn.

"Our general! The Senate! All of them—traitors, liars!" Geta paces back and forth, clutching the fabric of his robe against his pale body. His voice trembles, breaking into something close to hysteria.

Through the sting of tears, she barely saw him. Just a red blur, darting back and forth.

"I gave you everything! I pulled you out of that wretched hole you called home! I gave you a position, a roof over your head—my friendship!" His voice cracked. "And this is how you repay me? With betrayal?"

"What do I need your friendship for, boy?" Tiberius' voice was like ice. "You and your brother are insane. If you think I’m the last, you’re wrong. Others will come. They will betray you again and again, until you’re both dead."

Cassandra’s stomach dropped.

Silence, gods, silence him!

If he stopped now, maybe their deaths would be quick. Maybe it wouldn’t be so painful. But as she looked up, she knew—it was too late.

Geta had gone deathly pale, his face frozen in pure, seething rage. Only his eyes burned, black as coal.

"You'll be crucified like the worthless filth you are, and your name will be forgotten!" he spat. "You and your wife will feel our wrath in full."

For the first time since the praetorians had brought her in, Cassandra was mentioned, but Geta didn't even glance at her, unleashing his fury on Tiberius instead. But Caracalla was watching her.

She could feel his gaze like a physical weight. Cold, hateful-he wasn't playful anymore, not even trying to force a smile. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his light brows were furrowed. For the first time, the emperor seemed fully human, wrapped in a white sheet, sitting on one of the golden thrones.

"She didn't know anything. There's no need to kill her," her husband interjected, clearly making things worse.

At his words, Caracalla suddenly erupted in high-pitched laughter, clapping his hands. He stood up, and Cassandra instinctively shrank back, wanting to vanish. A long sword fell from his lap, one he didn’t even bother to pick up. The sound of his bare feet was oddly loud. She didn’t dare raise her gaze, fully convinced that he would kill her right then and there. His little pet wasn’t what he had expected, and the games needed to stop.

"Didn’t know anything," he drawled. "Poor, innocent girl, huh?" He stopped right in front of her, forcing her to lift her head, painfully grabbing her chin, squeezing.

"Leave her alone!" Her husband’s words no longer mattered. Both emperors could see that he didn’t regret his betrayal and was ready for death, but… but she wasn’t part of his plan. It seemed he truly cared for her.

Geta seemed calmer now, though he still nervously snapped his fingers. Following his brother, he moved closer, looking directly at her for the first time. Not breaking eye contact, he spoke:

"Macrinus, when did you learn of the conspiracy?" He addressed someone behind her.

"The day you were attacked in the Colosseum, Emperor," a voice behind her replied. "After we left the box, Senator Thraex kindly told me. That same day, the traitors plotted the conspiracy."

Geta and Caracalla’s lips curled into synchronized, sinister smiles.

"Lucilla and your wife, it seems, were close, yes?" Geta began, dripping with false sweetness.

"She didn’t know anything, stop this game!"

"And why should we believe the words of a fucking traitor, hmm?" The usual Caracalla seemed to be back, playfully twisting her head from side to side, still squeezing her chin painfully. The last time she had knelt before him, it hadn’t ended well. Her cheeks flushed, and her heart pounded in fear.

Nothing could escape his gaze; his eyes, black from dilated pupils, immediately locked onto her face, examining, scrutinizing, reading every emotion. His lips stretched into a grin, revealing a gold tooth. Even naked, wrapped only in a sheet, he was tied to gold.

"But let’s ask our esteemed Roman matron, we’re not tyrants after all, right, brother?" Geta's chuckle served as his answer. No one in the room believed those words. "Where were you when your husband was plotting against us? Where were you after the games?"

He knew the answer. And so did she. Her neck, cheeks, and ears flushed with color. Tiberius had remained proud and defiant to the end, and they had decided to play a different game. Judging by the dilated pupils and smug grins on their faces, everything had taken a turn they both enjoyed. They would destroy her husband's spirit, then hers, and then kill them both.

"With you, Caesar," she replied obediently, knowing silence would only make things worse. She had been told this countless times by the emperors themselves.

Tiberius immediately turned at her words, looking at her with his lips pressed tight. She hadn’t said anything terrible yet, but…

"You know, my brother can be so forgetful at times," Geta's tone took on a softness, a slyness akin to Caracalla's. Now they were bound by shared hatred, a common penchant for sadism, and the desire to destroy them. "Could you remind him what that meeting was about?"

"Caesar, I..." she couldn't say it. She couldn't say anything at all. Tears silently streamed down her cheeks. The last humiliation remained, and then it would all be over. Suddenly, she felt a bit of relief. They couldn't reach her once she was dead.

"Speak, girl," Caracalla's thumb slid across her mouth, tracing its outline harshly, roughly, anything but tenderly, "or you'll lose your little tongue and won't be able to defend yourself."

"I was with Emperor Caracalla. One of the slave girls saw us. After the games... We were at the altar, and..."

Yet, the words wouldn't come; she just couldn't voice the filth they expected from her, not while Tiberius looked at her with such disappointment in his eyes.

"Oh, how I love that even after everything that's happened between us, the little bird is still so pure," Caracalla burst out laughing, releasing her face. "I remember and will answer for her. I fucked her on my father's ashes, and because of that, she will live. Once again, the emperor has been too merciful, hasn't he, Senator?"

Live? She felt sick. She didn’t want to live. Not now, when the disgust in her husband’s eyes was so palpable. Ashamed, she turned away, sobbing.

"What, little bird? Did you truly believe you could get rid of me so easily? Your emperor?" His hand stroked her hair, soothing her as if she were an untamed animal. "No," he drawled, "you’re not capable of such a thing. You could have ended me, not once and not twice—bit off my cock, after all," and again, that hysterical laughter escaped him, his gaze fixed on her husband. Caracalla wanted to ensure Tiberius truly understood his words, "but no, you obediently took it, as you should."

She will never have it her way; he'll never let her simply leave or die, he'll keep playing until the very end.

"And yet," Geta began, "she deserves punishment, doesn't she?"

Cassandra lifted her tear-stained face to him. Why? Why was he partaking in this? Was it her refusal that offended him, or was it simpler, that he, like his brother, just enjoyed tormenting her?

"An unfaithful wife," Caracalla mused, tapping his finger against his lips as if her trial were happening right then in front of all Rome’s esteemed citizens. Only, there were no esteemed citizens here. "What a heinous crime!" He gasped theatrically, covered his mouth in mock horror. "Tiberius, you were faithful to your wife, weren’t you? I believe you were, but your sweet young wife, she was not so loyal. And if I, an honorable man unburdened by the chains of marriage, can partake in such acts, then, by the gods, what was she thinking?"

She wanted to sink into the ground—or maybe charge at the emperor, and then they’d kill her right there, so she wouldn’t have to endure these humiliating speeches anymore. But Cassandra didn’t move; she didn’t have the courage. Humiliated and cowardly, she stayed on her knees, arms wrapped around herself in a pitiful attempt to find some comfort. Tiberius didn’t even look at her. He stared straight ahead, unblinking, focused on where Caracalla was caricaturing a trial.

"Women are inherently corrupt, you know," Geta joined in. "'Chaste is she whom no one has coveted' isn’t that right?"

In the torch-lit darkness of the hall, their hair seemed to burn against their pale skin. Both had dark, piercing eyes, still furious over the betrayal, yet satisfied with their petty revenge. Cassandra watched as they exchanged looks, their smiles perfectly synchronized. Caracalla’s grin only grew wider at his brother’s words. There they were, the very embodiment of vice, pride, and wrath.

How can he say such things? How dare he speak as if she wanted all the terrible things the emperor did to her!? Was he blaming her? She looked at her husband desperately, but he seemed to share the emperor’s view, his lips tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing under his pale skin.

Oh, they had gotten what they wanted—he was enraged, furious! And all because of her. Was she really to blame for everything? Maybe it was the way she looked at the emperor, maybe she’d allowed too much, given the slightest hint? Her heart pounded so violently, it felt like it might shatter her ribs.

"But don’t worry, Tiberius, I’ll punish her as she deserves," the mockery and the insinuation so obvious it made her want to scream. "After your death, of course, but if you ask nicely, I'll show you how to handle women so they don't betray they vows, right now."

He leaned slightly toward her, his hot hand on her neck, his thumb pressing into the hollow between her collarbones, making her gasp and cough.

"Wouldn't a golden collar look exquisite on this little neck, hm? For the next games, I'll take you with me," his whisper burned her ear. "Naked."

Cassandra recoiled, bracing her hands against her knees, her head dropping. He was insane. The feverish gleam in his eyes, his flushed cheekbones, the way he bit his lower lip, his heavier breathing-all of it terrified her. He wasn't a mere sadist; he was completely out of his mind.

It seemed that even his brother found his words too deranged this time.

"She’ll be judged as she should be. The Senate… or what’s left of it, and we, of course, will pass a sentence fitting her crime."

"But I want her for myself!" Caracalla’s voice turned bitter, low with anger. How dare his brother forbid him anything!

"This won’t do. She’s still the daughter of a powerful man, and how do you think the Senate will react? Will you take their wives too?"

"I’ll take them if I wish!" Caracalla snapped petulantly, his playful mood shifting to fury.

It seemed they were about to clash, to fight right in front of them. Gods, her life was hanging by a thread, and they were acting like spoiled children! How insignificant she must be in their eyes.

And yet, the fight never came. In a gesture of reconciliation, Geta pulled his brother into an embrace, his arms settling around his delicate shoulders. Leaning in, he whispered something into his ear. Cassandra caught his gaze and knew at once—he was speaking of her. Caracalla smiled again.

At Geta’s command, she was taken away. No one spoke to her after that.

Tiberius remained in the hall. She knew she would never see him again. One last time, she turned to look at her husband, hoping to catch his eye, but he never looked back.

To him, she was already dead.

⋆ ⋆ ☼ ⋆ ⋆

Hey friends! The next chapter will be a short one, but it’s coming out tomorrow! Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would like my work since I love dark and tragic stories, and they’re usually not very popular. So I’m really grateful for all the kind words—it truly inspires me! 💋

[ladybirdswritings]

HUNTRESS, FIC — emperor geta x reader.

DESCRIPTION: the blood of the emperor’s brother is on your hands, a betrayed huntress facing death in the colosseum. your every move watched by the vengeful emperor who loathes you as much as you despise him. but amidst blood, betrayal, and survival, hatred begins to twist into something dangerous. NOTES - little enemies to lovers fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

one;

The thrum of hundreds of drums cocooned your ears in an awful medley, vibrations snaking like vines across your very skin.

Here and now, standing before scorching iron twisting into mangled gates, you allowed a chill to kiss your skin.

You were afraid—very afraid—and for good reason. But even so, gladiators didn’t cower before their fate.

It was a good thing that wasn’t what you were.

This was all just an unfortunate consequence of one painfully violent decision.

For my brother… you had whispered into the chill of the winter season as you plunged a gold, ornate blade into the chest of the wrong ginger.

Sure, the younger one was no better than the older. Even so, it was not his crimson you had wished to coat your hands with, for he had not killed Pietro. Geta had.

And Geta would kill you too. Whatever growled beyond these iron gates was no better than a gruesome death.

“Huntress,” Lucien called, clad in bronze armor and pleated wraps. You winced.

“Don’t call me that.”

But he paid you no mind as he stepped forward, wrapping your lanky arm in a cuff of gold.

“It’s what you are, what you must be, if you intend to slay whatever beast lurks beyond these gates. Listen to me: do not be foolish in there. Do not give them a show. You run, and you hide in the very dirt if you must. Here.”

With a worried glance toward the guards, he hastily pulled out three violet berries and pressed them into your palm. His calloused skin guided your hand to wrap around them.

“This is poison. You squeeze, and it erupts into a sea of death. Use these, and you may survive.”

May.

It was too awful a word—too insignificant.

“Bring out the girl!” a horrid, broken voice roared to his many peasants. The iron groaned in deep complaint as the gates began to part.

It was then that you felt every bit the weak, fearful girl you truly were. Your doe-like eyes locked on Lucien’s. His palms gripped your biceps, a huff of frustration escaping him as he scanned your face—perhaps to remember it. Then he leaned forward to press a warm kiss to your forehead.

He was saying goodbye.

“You will survive,” he murmured against your skin. All you could do was nod with a gulp as he pulled away.

Facing the liquid gold rays of the sun now blinding you, you stepped through the gates.

Despise was not a strong enough word to describe just how much these people loathed you.

So destroyed over the death of half of their precious emperors. You scowled at the thought—the same emperors who kept them on pretty leashes.

Slickened tomatoes crushed beneath your boots as you limped forward. You were no better than Pietro here, and it seemed as though history was only going to repeat itself.

Bruised beneath the bronze armor, thirsty and starved, they had purpled your skin, nearly dislocated your hip, and robbed you of any sustenance that could aid you in this impossible battle.

They had cheated, just as they had with your brother in this awful colosseum.

You would die on the very same dirt as your brother had—your twin.

Even so, a vicious grin tugged at your lips when your eyes locked on the lone ginger emperor scowling down at you. His jaw was taut, his arms littered with veins, but his eyes—they gave him away. Dark. Exhausted.

Even if you were to stain his dirt with your blood, he would remain as you were now: a lone twin. His brother in the dirt, too.

Perhaps your revenge had not been such a disaster after all.

“Traitorous whore!” he screeched at you, and the peasants roared in agreement.

His words were no bother. You’d fight well enough—and when you died, you’d die with a smile.

“Bring out her death!”

Vibrations crawled up your calves as you squeezed the oak wood bow clasped in your hand—your only weapon.

The gates opposing you parted, welcoming two awful horns held back only by frayed rope and a growling man atop the beast.

“He shall impale you as you impaled my brother!” Geta growled from his castle above, his voice guttural and animalistic.

“BEGIN!”

His roar was so vicious you swayed on your feet.

Perhaps the bow was meant to deter you from survival, but you were grateful for it now. With your weak bones, you had no chance of surviving close battle. No chance of escaping a sword fight or a seething rhinoceros.

But your bow—you could fight from afar.

Thrum-thrum-thrum-thrum. The beast neared closer, working into a charge so vicious it drowned out the crowd’s excitement. You could feel Geta’s eyes scorching your skin.

He did not simply want you dead. He wanted you mangled.

“HUNTRESS—KILL THEM!” Lucien roared from behind the gates, snapping you back into the present moment.

Your purpled hands trembled as you grabbed an arrow and loaded your bow. You had to treat this as any other time—locked away in the forest with just you, the glades, and your bow.

A rhinoceros could be no different from a fawn, right? Animals—all the same. And you were starving now, just as you had been all the other times you hunted.

Closer, closer. You steadied your rapid breaths best you could— imagining doe-eyes approaching as opposed to horns and squinting as you found the place between the beast’s brows.

Closer.

Even closer.

A moment more and you’d lose your shot, so you released the tension-bound arrow.

Laughter—cruel, cold, and entirely at your expense—rattled the stadium.

Your eyes fell to the ground, where the arrow landed not two feet away from your boots.

No, no, no.

Your fingers trembled against the string. It was loose.

Bastard.

Your eyes flicked to Geta’s, cold and swimming with satisfaction. He had rigged your bow.

And the beast was still charging.

“HUNTRESS!” Lucien’s cry was lost on your ears as you steadied your feet. Your heart hummed like a bird in your chest.

You hissed as sharp pain licked the flesh of your wrist. Violet trickled from your cuff.

The berries.

Crying out in exasperation, you shook the berries free.

You would be impaled in a moment, but at least the poison would piss the wretched thing off.

With a cry, you crushed the berries in your palm, tossing the violet liquid into the air just as the horn grazed your bronze armor.

And you waited.

No darkness or light found you.

A screech so awful it could have burst your eardrums shook the colosseum. The beast reared back, thrashing in a violent dance before collapsing to the dirt.

Its tongue slack, its eyes white, it crushed the man commanding it.

You breathed then. For the first time.

As your eyes lifted, you found a flicker of awe in Geta's gaze-beyond his rage.

The colosseum roared in disbelief as Geta flipped the fruits and wine before him, storming away.

And you breathed.

Alive.

[punk-in-docs]

A song of broken skin and fated lovers: part V

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 7.1k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V —

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! There’s some description of wounds and if you squint some dub con. Proceed daintily loves-

It seemed your dreams were the only place you could reliably escape too. The only plain you’d find any peace.

You picture the hill before your home. Every night away from home you dreamt you’d be walking up it. Feeling the dappled shade of olive trees curling above on your skin. Passing along your back in freckles. Dotted light, spots of shade interspersed.

Your soft skirt swishing around bare calves. The creak of your sandals meeting the dusty road. The one that kinks and bends and shows you that endless glimpse of searing ocean waiting just beyond. Aegean water. Sage fields. Boundless heavens.

You remember these fields. You played in them as a child. The ones that thrash with soft grasses. Ruffled by salty sea air. You can hear your sisters laughter brushing along to you like sweet blossom petals garnished on the wind. Sweet and calming. Crushed honeycomb and milk.

A sound as familiar and as comforting to you as their calls and voices that make the shape of your name.

Every night in your dreams you walk up this hill.

Every night you come home.

You can see them - your sisters - on the winding ribbon of the road ahead. Running out the front door of the house. Tullia with her dress flying behind her. Ever decorous eldest. Calling to Diana, with her hair falling in waves and telling her younger sister that ladies don’t run. Diana isn’t listening she’s too joyous. Too forthright to pay attention.

And Ceres. Sweet little Ceres sprints for your arms. Gap toothed grin. Clutching her cloth doll. Skirts held past her knees, she runs for you.

You can see mother in her dark plum linen stola. Gold jewellery on her neck and dangling from her ears. She lingers in the shade of the the hallway. Her dark wavy hair shot through with a fierce bolt of silver - lightning struck - at her temples. Radiant. As she watched from the door with a smile at their graceless display.

Her smile wide and brilliant, you always thought so, exactly as you remember it, as crows feet sit by her eyes. Emboldened and etched deep with her mirth. Hers is a face that has seen years of sun and sea spray. Made serene as placid waters by it. She is tanned and weathered elegantly by decades of watching sunshine bouncing like rows of diamonds off the sea. Salt and sea foam as hemmed in her blood as it is in yours.

You run to them - crying and wailing - feet slapping the dirt and dust, and you’re aching, legs burning, lungs aflame and you won’t stop. Calling their names til your throat is as dry as the dust below your feet.

Then the sun is too bright. It’s too far and you can’t see them. They can’t hear you. Swallowed from your grasp.

There’s just blinding light engulfing them just out of reach of your scraping fingertips. It’s like brushing grains of sand. It tumbles away before it grows into actuality. Your fingers brush empty air as your whole being lurches and mourns.

You jolt awake, body clammy and sheened in sweat. Eyes snapping open as you jerk upwards in the cover of fine smooth sheets. You feel your hair slip over your naked shoulders. Jewels and gold still around your neck. Sunshine blares harshly at your crusted eyes.

Aches and pains come swimming back to you in sharp degrees. Bruises on your neck and your hips. Fading to ugly yellow black already. Bite marks ring your collarbones and the meat of your shoulders.

Out the window you can hear a bustling city. The clamour of crowds. Hot sun baked dirt and filth. Bells peeling from temples. Servants scurrying in the courtyards below and beyond. Horses baying in the streets.

You smear sleep from your eyes, twisting over in the huge slab of a bed to see the sheets behind you are still filled.

Geta slumbers on golden pillows under the same sheets as you. On his back with bis face turned to the sun. Arm slung over his belly. The thin sheets stick to the climes and outlines of his body. His stomach. Thighs. Hips. The heavy bulge between his legs.

His expression seems almost gentle in his rest. Pillowy lips and dark lashes kissing onto his cheeks. Kohl still smeared on his eyes from yesterday. Naked same as you, save for golden decorations, jewelled rings…

A wedding ring. Matching bands. That’s the weight that comes crashing down on you so fiercely.

Acid bile claws it way up your throat when you shift your legs. Finding the edge of the bed with a breathy sigh. The stickiness between your legs and dried around your cunt doesn’t bear thinking about. You screw your eyes shut so as not to think about it.

Stirring silk. Rustles from behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going wife?” Comes a sleepy drawl across the pillows and sheets. Slithering across to you. Husky from his slumber.

You swallow and twist your head over your shoulder. Hair matted and twined close from sleep. Bite marks wedged deep in your back and neck throb as you move.

His eyes are lidded heavy but their burning gaze rests on you. Branding like a hot knife. White hot from the fire. You’re beginning to think that gaze of his always will.

“I’m not used to having my bed filled in the mornings. The kind of company I’m used to promptly leaves after the pleasuring is done.” He explains. Inflection of lust in his tone. He smirks with it. Wide and filthy.

Now he has a little plaything to trap into his bed whenever he feels like it. An ornament he can use and decorate his already gilded arm, and bring out to inspire envy in all peoples of Rome.

You pause where you sit on the bed. Caught.

“I wanted to fetch some water.” You grovel. Voice scraping raw. Throat feeling full of sharp rocks when you speak.

His eyes harden. Laychromose, but deepening with his anger. The way he slips into intimidation if he doesn’t immediately get what he wants. The way he snaps his fingers and has this world uncurl and offer itself up to his desires. That too must apply to you. Your role now was obedience in all things.

Bend and break and mould yourself for your husband, little nymph.

“You may… when your emperor is finished with you.” He plays and toys with your emotions at his whims. Eyes intently gazing at you. His words come with a bladed meaning.

“Come here-“ He orders. Voice softer but the command cuts straight to your spine. Arrowhead sharp. Studs deep.

You curl back into the bed. Back stiff. Trying not to wince at the cuts which burn and tear at your skin. You feel the pull and tug of barely closed wounds. His teeth had drawn blood. You feel the congealing wound at your back shift. The scab lifting. A bead of blood rolls over down your shoulder blade.

He notices. Shifts on his side behind you. Curls a hand to the hill of your hip. Catches that drip of blood with his lips. Savours it. Sea foam flavour of you bedded on his tongue.

The warm stinging path of his tongue on your back takes your mind back to what happened in these sheets hours previous.

How he’d pushed your thighs, widened your legs, opened the bowl of your pelvis and drunk from you. Showed you the various ways a man can please his lover with tongue, lips and hungry teeth.

He’d done it til you shivered and begged. Tried to writhe away. He meanly tugged you back where you belonged, bullied you, recaptured in the cradle of his hands, and did it again. Smirked when you asked for clemency.

“I warned you I was without mercy, Salacia.” He’d leered. His smirking lips and sharp teeth shining with you as he smeared his warm nose against your thigh. Slaked in the taste of you from chin to cheek. Makeup running under his Umbrian eyes. Panting like a beast to your skin and because of the scent he finds synonymous with you. Lemons and salt.

He hovers behind you now. Hands sliding for your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Breath tainted copper. Pressing his lips to bruises and tender spots. You were right. He had to achieve to sting of pain in order to feel something.

He dips his mouth to your neck again. Lapping and nursing a new bruise near an already painful one. Layering pain on pain.

His hand slips lower for your thigh. Warm stones in each of his fingers foreign and hard as he slips his hand between the soft of your legs again.

He’d moaned when you’d grabbed his hair or left nail marks in his large arms and shoulders. He liked that he could draw an emotion out of you. Even if it was overstimulation or desire. He’ll match and meet you in either. As he so wishes.

He’s pleased to find you tacky with the remnants of him from the previous evening. “A fine fruitful offering for your beautiful cunt my wife.” He purrs. Fingers delving deeper to your sex. Rings nearly an unwelcome sensation. “In time mayhaps the gods will bless us.”

Hallowed Saint. Hallowed fate. Bestowed by the gods, he says.

You’d say it was more akin to downfall. Curses and ill fate. Tantalus and his fruit. Medusa and her coiled snakes. Actaeons fateful stag.

He noses onto your jawbone. Fascinated by the scent of you still. Smothered all over these sheets. It grew stronger the longer he was near you. In his sleep it smothered his mind, his every second. Lemons, salt, and you-

He loses himself, mouthing to your neck and into the wild nest of your hair. He inhaled you. Drank the essence of you like a starving peasant. Hungry greedy hands.

“What is about that scent of yours that drives me wild? What is it?” He seeks. Almost angry in his demands.

“Lemon oil. For my hair.” You explain weakly as he plucks and grabs at you.

Descending into lustful madness. He catches the ripe berry of your clit with his rings and it makes you gasp. Bucking back to his chest. He likes that. When a little of your feral reaction to his touch makes you buck and lose your usually placid control. The man is taunting the seas and welcoming in a storm.

“Use it. Always.” He ordered huskily, Huffing as your hair sticks to his lips. Melding with the salt of ocean that he now understands beats through your skin and veins.

He would order ten thousand lemon trees to be bought here just for your use.So he can kiss your shoulders and your skin and always find it brimming with the bright note of that yellow fruit.

A small surrendering of your body as you arch back to him. Having pleased him brings something forth in you: something that eases. His pleasure allows you to relax the stiffness of your spine. Lower your guard.

He tugs your hair out the path of his lips. Delights in the evidence he found of his teeth all over your neck. His claim was skin deep. And he soon hoped it would be even deeper.

You are tugged back to the bed so his hands can wander all over you again. Your back curled to his chest as he lays you on your side. His hand sliding for your thigh to widen you open for him. Behind your hips you feel the hard length of him. He guides himself to you and your breath gets punched out of you as he pushes inside.

He pushes your leg open further to move to you deeper. He delights in finding evidence of your restless wedding night squelching deep inside your cunt. Throws his head back and groans with it.

He moulds his body to yours. Tacky skin. Warm cotton sheets kicked down the bed. Ringed metal and sharp jewels on every finger gripping the fat of your leg tight until he’s sure he’d left marks. Holding you open so he can plunge inside.

Your hand finds his where he crushed one breast in a grip so tight it makes tears spring to your eyes. Melding with the pleasure you cannot deny coming forth as he moves his hips to you so fiercely, your skin smacks where you meet.

Despite the sting of pain from being so overused, to way his fingers reach down to knowingly pinch and caress your clit where you’re spread open around him, makes wordless cries come out your throat. You clutch into the sheets and grit your teeth. His breath muggy hot against your neck. His hair a mess. Golden and fiery. Like stomped down wheat stalks at sunset. A lazy Bacchusian god.

“Let your husband hear you.” He encourages. Your moans and sweet as rare wine. Inbetween sucking and biting your neck. Asking for your sounds of ecstasy like he deserves them. A holy offering that praises him and washes away all sin.

“I don’t think you are goddess of the sea my love. With a cunt this sweet and tight? I think you must be a fertility goddess instead.” He proposes into your ear through harsh chuffs for breath.

“So tight. So fucking Intoxicating” he huffs. Cupping your tits and still moving to you as harshly and deep as he’s able.

He makes sure your breath cannot come as you steal his. A warm sweaty palm on your chin twists your head back to his. He anoints your lips with a messy kiss that echoes with the ghost of last nights wine and the tang of salt from between your legs. His tongue licks over your teeth. He drags every part of you up for devouring.

A commotion over by the door takes your mortified eyes over.

You see Aeliana and some of her maids coming in. When they see you both naked in the bed with Geta thrusting into you like a madman, you watch her eyes blow wide with shame. Head bowing. Arms laden with todays gown for you to wear. She halts the girls by her side.

Geta doesn’t even spare them a look. They are below his divine notice. He manages to lever his mouth off yours for a mere few seconds, to bark his orders and send them scurrying.

“Get out.” He shrieks. Voice ringing through you with the harshness of the sudden shout.

You twist your head into the sweat slicked pillow. Ashamed that they’d even just glimpsed you being used so.

His spit drying on your chin. His hand possessively cupping your cunt again as he fucked you so deeply, something tender within your pelvis had you nearly wailing.

His mouth goes to your neck again. His pace growing faster and faster. Sloppier. Noises of your sex only increasing. His hold on you is so intense it’s an ache. His fingers trailing through your curls and your folds to find that spot that will surrender you entirely to him.

He rears up behind you. Skin glued with heat to yours. He grabs you close as if you’ll fade under his fingertips like smoke. Hips hammering as he reached his pleasure. Yours came snapping down on him not long after.

That telltale tip and then the surge of ecstasy that broke through you. Cunt snapping down right around his cock as you came in shudders. Pulsing through you as his spend burst deep into you. Exactly where he wanted it. Wave after wave of pleasure. You let it take you. Little else you could do. Your strength to fight had turned stone cold.

You laid against him in cooling sheets. Listening to his chasing breath behind you. Feeling the wet and heat between your legs twofold. His sweat drips onto your back. Smeared as he laps at your neck. Fresh bruises and teeth indents are more raw than before.

You can barely notice. You’re more taken with the way your pussy squishes as he pulls free. The hot rush of his spend.

Hot breath comes over your ear again. You shudder and you’re not entirely sure it’s of pleasure. His lips kiss to your jaw and cheek. All this sweat and sex soaked skin. and still he finds lemons in your taste when he kisses you.

“Shall I have the maid fetch you water?” He seeks.

“I shall do it.” You shrink down with sex flushed cheeks. Pushing away from the bed with a wince. Hair draping down your back as you take a smooth sheet from the bed with you. Padding to the side. Hips swaying under the cotton. Your pelvis and thighs feel tender and aching - low and bone deep like sun burn - as you move to the amphora and goblets you’d used last night.

He sits on his elbows to watch you. Uncovered, cock laying soft against his thigh. His thighs and groin sticky-wet with evidence of your joining. Unabashed as to his naked state.

His eyes are hungry and you certainly give him a feast to watch. Clad in sunshine from the great maw of the window. Skin littered with violent red and purple marks in odes to his ownership of you. The smeared blood from bites at your back that he’d licked away.

You stand at the side. Laying your hands flat to the table where the jug stood. You found you didn’t reach for it right away. You looked at the very unfamiliar sight of the wedding band in your finger. The gold surrounded by the two dog heads fighting over the sapphire. A helpless jewel caught in between rabid teeth. How fitting.

Your shaking hands pour clear water into a cup and you drink it all quickly. The taste of metal and sleep fading from your tongue.

Bare feet padding the floor come behind you. The rustle of a fine robe. The red and gold one. He’s barely bothered to tie it closed around his chest.

“I must go and ready for the day. Loathe as I am to depart your blissful company.” He says. His hand slipping round the back of your neck. Bringing you in. Tasting the new wetness on your tongue as he kisses you. You muffle a moan to his lips as he possesses you in a kiss again. Squeak a little as he pulls away.

You don’t know what else there is to say.

Enjoy your gilded cage, little nymph. It’s all you’ll know from now on.

“Wear jewels and something pretty. I’ll come find you later. Wife.” He promises with a salacious smirk. Eyes you up and down like he wants to tear that sheet off and bend you over the lectus here and now. Smack the fat of your ass and claim you again.

A dark smile aimed your way. A thumb on your chin to bring you in for one more lippy kiss. And he’s off - stalking toward the doors. A lascivious look shot your way as he turns away.

You say nothing. You feel nothing. Nothing except for empty hollow rage that shakes through you. Pounds at the bony trap your ribs. Enough for you to shiver even in the warm morning air.

You feel scraped through. Brittle like fraying rope. He’s taken you from your home. Exiled your father. Forced shame upon your family. Killed your brother. Pushed his twisted lust upon you, and now expects you to react as if it’s dressed up in love.

You floated into his life like a midsummer’s night breeze. And he found you breathtaking, enchanting. Now he had you he wanted to cup you close. Seal you to his skin with his nose buried in the crown of your head whilst crowing mine mine mine.

He was in two minds of what to do with you. Cherish you, love you, pour crimson rose petals before your steps. On the other hand, he only knew violence when it came to love and to lust. He wanted to break you apart piece-by-piece like dry clay. Tear at you like those tigers in the coliseum and see what’s left.

He’s never known what to do with his things when it comes to love. Maybe he didn’t even know it at all. Only knew how to demand and take. Never to please or to give. He’s never had too.

And now he expects mightily. For you to sit pretty and wear jewels, rings, gold, and fine stolas. Support his every shrieked command. You must learn to sew your mouth shut and keep your opinions tamed back behind that same silent closure of thread.

An Empresses role was silence. How your soul quakes with that new pain.

The huge doors rattle again. The exit of the Emperor meant the maids were safe to come tend you.

Aeliana walks towards you. You raise your eyes to hers. Wet and wide. Tears on the quivering brink of your lashes.

She is unable to hide the noticeable switch of shock in her expression, when she sees the wounds you’d been saddled with. Teeth marks and bruises. Like you’re a slab of meat and not a cherished spouse.

She cannot fathom how you have more cuts for her to soothe balm on after your wedding night.

“Let’s get you to the baths, Empress.” She soothes. Opens her arm. Encouraged you to follow. She tries a bolstering smile but you both know it’s fragile. Her husky voice is the only kind thing you fear you’ll ever hear in this rotten place.

You nod. Swallow. Stand tall and let her manoeuvre you.

You can allow some tears to slip free when you’re in the water. Then you must banish your feelings. The maids must strap finery and silks onto your body again and truss you up in this farce. You steel every last splitting nerve whilst you can. Tamp them down. Gather the ragged ends up and soothe them. Clutch tight.

Naked, you wade down the steps and sink under the surface of the huge bath.

You’re tempted to not come up for air again. The water lulling you in its cradling warmth like an old familiar companion. As if a siren that you let drag you down. Plunge headlong into waves and succumb.

Unlike Odysseus, you don’t have the strength to fight its pull.

The bite on your shoulder turns the water clouded and rusty.

One salient thought gives you solace as the world around you grows numbs to your ears.

Atleast he drank deeply from the lies you’d fed.

~

Many sun and moons had set since your wedding night. Time marches its onward parade in the beautifully rotten imperial palace.

Geta and Caracalla were summoned to a Imperial Consul with the senators. To discuss the matters of their particular wish to expand the Roman empire to Persia and India. And possibly beyond that. They held Rome and all her starving subjects in a gold fisted vice. Refused to relent like a bratty child clutching a beloved toy. One that they would rather break to splinters in their grasp than see it enjoyed by someone else.

That was not the way of the gods, after all. It was their damn birthright.

They both slouch in their sloping marble carved chairs, in front of the rows of Senators, as the magistrate drones through the Verba fecit. Then they would read the protocols to address problems within the city.

Geta is not attempting to look amused or even mildly interested.

He slurps at a golden goblet of dark wine. A scowl like rolling thunder on his face. Dark eyes smouldering at any old senator who dares contest his gaze. Garbed in gold with rings on every finger. His black and gold silken robes folded in his lap, spilling to the ground.

Caracalla appears more interested in feeding grapes to Dondus. His manic grin shining. Gold tooth glittering in the half dim as he laughs. His creatures chirps and shrieks accompany the low drone of the voices rolling around the great marble room. Bounding off the pillars and echoing back.

Geta ground his jaw tight as he flickered a look to the side and caught sight of the very thing that had begun to vex him from the second he stepped into these chambers. Set far back behind him. Amongst the senators seats.

Your cushioned lectus remained vacant.

He grips his wine goblet too tight. fingers strangling the stem. His attention was brought back to the room as Senator Thraex cleared his throat. Summoning back his attention.

“… I would also like to wish you joy on your recent union. Caesar…. You have bestowed a fine and fair Empress onto Rome and her peoples…”

Geta narrows his eyes at the man. Coaxing out the rest sharply. Or else.

“Yet I cannot help but notice It has been four moons now since the Empress graced us with her presence here at counsel…. I do wonder if all is well. As Rome does deserve the full compliments of its masters here to guide us.”

Geta ground his teeth around an answer. The room throbs in the heady silence as he glares. Punctuated only by the monkeys chitters and the shuffling of Senators gazing at each other in arch amusement as to the meaning of the levied comment.

“The Empress is occupied elsewhere at present. I should hope you are not suggesting me and my brother are lacking in our duties in any way. Senator.” He replies curtly. Eyes thunder heavy and dragging over the dry old man. Umbrian danger.

“Of course not. Sire.” Thraex replied. Seeming unimpressed with the answer. “If you’ll permit me I should like to discuss the issue within the city of what is to be done of taxes within the Porta Capena quarter…”

Geta sunk into his cup again as the Senators droned on. His mood plunged below foul. Jaw tight. He turned to look at the lectus again. Venom in his blood at your absence.

When counsel finished. He stormed from his seat without another word. Robes sweeping the ground as he raced from the room. Sandals meeting the floor like slaps. Rage evident in his stride. He summons the nearest Praetoria. Who promptly comes to his side.

“Where is the Empress?” He snarls. A snake in coil about to strike. Bad enough he had to suffer the thinly veiled barbs of Senators asking why you were absent. Even worse was that you made him look a fool without even being here. They were casting foul allusions as to your marriage.

The guard hesitates before giving an answer. “She has left the Palace, Caesar.” He answers.

Geta’s anger comes sharp and packed in poison. A hiss. He asks so curtly it echoes to the ceiling. “And precisely where has she gone?”

~

At first, the noise and bustle of Rome was repugnant to you. Rancid and dirt and heat. Too much noise and not enough air.

Made putrid by stale sweat en masse bodies, horse manure, and smoke from fires mingling with roasting meat or oily charred fish from street vendors.

There was always shouting, someone selling wine, someone selling exotic wares, and bartering filling the air. Music bleeding from some side alley. Jugglers and slight of hands weaving through the crowds of servants and nobles and peasants, ready to part people from their coin.

You watch and just listen to it all from where you’re seated. A palla folded around your head and neck to block the otherwise fierce sun, also to obscure your features, give you shade wherein to hide your golden jewellery and rich dress.

Though you doubt anyone in this riotous city knows or even cares who you are. To a glance? You are just another rich merchants wife. Or noble woman. Unseen. Unremarkable. You do admire Rome for that small mercy atleast. To make you invisible in a crowd of thousands.

You’re seated at the edge of the fountain. The marble lip cold under your dress. Your hand dangling down into the clean waters. Trailing your fingertips through the cool of it. Water shimmers off the blue stones and pearls of your rings. If you squint, they are treasures cast on the shore. You can imagine you see specs of sand. Golden shells. Milky pearls waiting to be picked - tucked cosily in cream oyster shells.

You try to pretend. You fail.

Your personal praetorian guard lingers not far away. Varro. A perpetual huge shadow to you since your wedding.

Geta told you the morning after that you were to have him watch over you at all times. The man has been hulking after your every footstep since. It’s cloying, but nowhere as much as that palace is.

Varro boasts a huge figure and not one to be easily missed in a crowd. A warriors build. A scowl that could curdle milk. He’s solid. Brawny thick chest, stocky as a barrel, thighs thick as tree trunks, large arms and immense shoulders even without his plates of armour.

He had a proud chiselled face, dark hazel eyes and a prominent nose that had been broken before. Evidence of a pinking scar bumping at the bridge of it. Also a small nick dissecting his lower lip. His life had known pain. You can tell. Typical soldiers life. A body cut from the cloth of war. From polishing armour, baying for unease, and stepping to commands.

It’s hewn in the way he carries himself in crowds. Darting eyes and not feeling at ease, or any kind of sane, unless he can see all four clear corners around himself - and you. And convinced danger lurks behind every brick corner and down every side street. Huge hand permanently slung over the pommel of his sword. A warning.

He stands a little way across from you now. Looming proud as an old oak in the shade of a building and a market stall slung with rich cloth for sale. Shirking the sun and scowling at everyone. Basalt black hair falls like long thorns over, down his brow. Down the nape of his neck and collar, beaded in sweat.

Children scarper around him. Street urchins that clamour like flies on rot at his appearance. He gives no inch and tells them to move along with a curt nod. Steel stiff spine standing to attention. A merchant tries to sell him a cup of wine - red or white - they are silenced by his frown. He won’t touch a drop whilst on duty. Truth be told, You don’t think he knows how to be off duty. He’s not capable.

He’s an austere reminder of your station. Almost literally, in his dark black plate armour and wisteria purple cape swinging from his wide shoulders. A storm cloud eternally perched on the horizon of your day. His words come few and far between. You don’t think you’ve heard him string two full sentences together once. Except possibly in daggered warning;

You draw too much attention. Empress. It is bound to invite trouble.

You wanted to scoff at that irony.

You? In your hooded palla, draw attention?

When it is he, the man who guards you - like a grizzled dog - who is a thick immovable column of uniform widely recognised as imperial praetoria, wherever you turn in these streets? Unfathomable.

I am going to temple to pray. You may either escort me. Or explain to my husband why I have gone into the capital, alone.

His answer was a gruff glare. Acceptance and frustration entwined.

You have caused him to furrow his dark brows at you several times with a “Yes, Empress.” That came dragged through a displeased drone. A hound showing you his teeth before the jaws snap. Having to escort you into the city each day was laying contrary to his regulations to not have you in harms way.

You insisted. He obeyed. With little choice in the matter.

Every day you came here. One corner of the beating, shouting heart of Rome. You went to the Temple of Vesta and you prayed. And you went to a public fountain and let real life ebb in upon you once again. To find some peace away from the rabid emperors, who blaze at the palace with all the ferocity of fiery twin suns. They encompass all. Left little room for anything else. All life revolved around them. You float off in distant orbit.

You wave your fingers through the cool water. Tethered to one small piece of home again. Cool tides that brought you comfort. Reminded you of the sun soaked shores of home. Sunlight fracturing in diamonds off clear blue waters.

Feeling the sun beat down now on your neck through layers of cloth. You cast your eyes over the monuments to Neptune sat in this ornamental fountain. Sea gods and goddesses and creatures of sea foam. The other side where you are, women are washing clothes, or chatting over baskets fetched from market. You can smell perfumed oils, dried flower petals, and the sweet plump of ripe fruits tucked safe in the shade of their baskets.

How wild it is that until four weeks ago, that too had been your life. You didn’t sleep on silken sheets, get trussed in gold, and have servants poised so you never had to even lift a finger.

You knew comforts - of course. You had fine clothes and didn’t have to toil the fields. But you weren’t beyond spinning cloth or running errands. Helping clean and tidy your home. Fetching food or helping prepare meals. Coming home from market in the small town with oiled fish, scorpion fish, or boar, fresh chestnuts or olives. Dried meats sometimes too.

You thought of the olive trees lining the road to town. Huge and ancient. Offering branches that white doves often sat in - cooing away their calls. You thought of buying chestnuts for Ceres because she adored them so. Goats cheese for your mother that she liked with honey. Bunches and bunches of aniseed to make into Canistrelli biscuits for father.

The happy creak of your basket on your arm. Feeling the sun tangle in your hair as you shaded your eyes, felt the sea kissed breeze caress along your arms and back as if an embrace of a lover.

All those things you’d lost in one fell swoop. A life that had been snatched from you without your even getting a chance to bid it goodbye. Just like your brother. Your father.

And here you were now. Hiding away in the crowds. So lonely you felt its sting like the deepest shrapnel. A wound never closing. Always being prodded some more by the dire aspects of your circumstances. Anything to not be trapped in your gilded cage. Being reminded daily that your one use in that foul place, lay solely between your legs.

Two small girls come stumbling to an ungraceful stop, laughing, breathless and slowing from a run. They come right to your side to fill some amphorae with water. Dunking the clay jug into the clear water and letting it fill.

They each have dark hair and dark eyes. One must be close to Ceres’ age of six, toddling, milk teeth smile, youthful weight clinging to her cheeks, the other slightly older. Longer hair and a fuller smile. They have flowers pinched from a stall stuffed in their rusty coloured linen apron pockets. Some bay laurels and cornflowers.

You smile warmly at them. They smile back, unabashed. Joy seeping out of them. That brand of innocent fearlessness that grasps the young.

Turning your head you hear the clank of armour, feet shifting fast on dirt. Varro steps towards you with his scowl and his hand already on his sword.

You reprimand him silently. Gaze packed in ice. Jaw set. Mouth flicking to a grim line. You calmly hold up your hand and motion for him to step back. He’d scare the poor things.

You feel a gentle tug on your dress where it splays at your shoulders. Turning back, you see the younger one has her small hand on your dress.

You gently return your hand to your side. Seeing what she wanted your attention for. They both looked at Varro with much wide eyed curiosity. Only very rich ladies could afford a soldier. Only those of very high status. You fear he’s just betrayed your standing.

“Pardon me…” She utters. Her unsure voice carefully picking over the words. As if she was still learning larger words and their uses.

“Yes?” You smile. Touched by her boldness. Treating her with gentility.

“Are you the Empress?” She seeks. Forming words slowly. A curious tilt of her head.

You see no reason to lie.

You can feel Varros eyes burning a glare into your back. Harsher. More furious than the sun. Don’t.

“I am.” You respond.

They smile as if excited. Sharing a look. Both each producing a small laurel sprig from their stuffed pockets. They each step forwards and present the small branches out to you. A gift. You lay your hand flat and accept them both. Curling your fingers around branch stems.

“Gods blessings be upon you, Empress.” They speak in clunky unison.

You take the branches with reverence. Feeling the smooth leaves. The verdant and subtle scent coming from them.

“Pray tell me. What are your names?” You enquire.

The eldest speaks first. “Amata, Empress.”

The youngest follows suit. “Junia, Empress.” She tells you proudly.

You reach for your purse. Stowed safely within your dress folds away from the hands of beggars. You pluck out two coins and place them in their small hands. Junias hand reminds you if a small pudgy starfish. Curling round a silver shell.

“Blessings be upon you both. Amata. Junia. For your kindness…” You beam to them both.

They shimmer with mirth. Taking their jugs and scampering away through the crowds like nymphs.

Varro appears at your shoulder like an omen. “Empress.” He says your name lowly. Chiding you with his tone alone for revealing yourself to them.

“Surely two little girls holding flowers in their pockets, pose no danger to me.” You reply archly. Watching across the crowds where they’d disappeared.

“I only seek to resupply you of my one duty.”

“I don’t need reminding.” You tell him. Not unkindly. But he can hear the way you might be tempted to let the words be sharpened to little blades off your back teeth.

He’ll say this for you; you don’t have sharp teeth or poisonous tongue like every other noble in that palace. You are made different to their spoilt ways. Something sleeker and softer. All foam whipped off waves. You can sting and lash if required - you simply choose not too.

You hear bells toll for midday from the temple beyond. Clanging off the golden stone of every building around you. You fancy you can see the ripple of the sound sending waves to burst across the fountains surface.

Varro is giving you that stern look that urges you to be heading back. Before you’re started to be noticed. Before you become a perfidious gap in your Emperors day, when he isn’t vying for blood, gold or war. That or applying himself ruthlessly to the detriment of this great city, crushing his own people in the same way his favourite wine is made. Squeezing every drop til dry.

You hate to return. But you fear what wrath will come if you don’t. The thought of slipping away into these crowds and dipping into another form of life mocks you. Cowardice curbs your actions.

With some of the meagre coin in your pocket, you could try and make for the coast, possibly. You could disguise yourself as a merchants wife, or a servant. Anything to slip the golden net you’ve been landed in.

You wonder how far you’d make it, running away like a common ruffian, before the stomping hooves of a Roman battalion would be on your heels. Snatching you back here to be humiliated at Geta’s own insistence. The punishment he’d dole on you doesn’t bear thinking about. You were property after all.

You watch men and women weave in and out of the crowds, wishing you had half their luck as to put your back to this palace and peel away. Your mind wanders over that idea. A faint ember that dies to a curling puff of smoke. Snuffed out.

It doesn’t bear thinking about-

You take your offered laurel branches and stand. Varro takes up his guard. Eyes flicking all around. Searching for those corners he requires. For that split second of danger he can cleave his sword onto treasonous limbs for your protection.

You make your way back through crowds. Varro cutting a swathe for you. You keep your head down and remain quiet. Mind vacant as you move through the paved streets.

A flash of a body pushing past you takes your attention down a side alley. One arched with fabric awnings thrown over merchants stalls.

The flash of white turned out to be a senators robe. The vivid plum purple bordering white. You bat away the bitter thought of once recognising it as your fathers noble robes.

You catch sight of three people, stood on a street corner. One of them you don’t recognise but you know him to be a Senator. The two people he’s stood conversing with does make you stop in your tracks.

General Acacious and Lady Lucilla.

They are conversing deeply. Attention not given to you where you stand on the other side of the street. Shade cloaks them all. A moment out the sun. A place they hope guards them in obscurity. Talking with each other in hushed tones. Marcus and Lucilla wear hoods so as to hide their fine features from any obvious recognition.

The crowd trickles on around you. Water carving on around a large rock in the way.

Lady Lucilla raises her eyes. They flash to you in an instant. Dazzling green. A sun dappled meadow holding you in sight.

Her face falls as she halts her words. Lips parting. The General and the Senator both turn to follow her gaze. Finding you, caught static, at the other end of it. You recognise a prickle of panic when you see it.

You turn your head. Eyes snapping away as you hold your skirts and continue on.

Your guard says nothing. Though you know he saw what you just did. It’s not his place. He forgets all he sees or hears - all that doesn’t pose risk to you.

Maybe you weren’t the only person in Rome to wish the Palace walls didn’t have treasonous eyes and ears. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps Varro was right;

There is danger round these street corners in Rome.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[writememysticfalls]

Soaked | Klaus Mikaelson

Summary: You slip in the bathtub, and accidentally call your one night stand Klaus to rescue you. Things get steamy.

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, friends with benefits, mean!Klaus

Word Count: <1k

You were dozing in the bath when you heard a knock on the door.

You were stranded in your bathtub with a twisted ankle, and you couldn't move. You had left a message begging Elena to come rescue you.

“Come get me, you idiot!” you yelled. You heard a click as the door opened. “Thank you so much. I’ll be your eternal slave!”

There were footsteps, then a very not-Elena voice said, “The eternal slave part sounds nice, love, if a bit extreme.”

You had a sinking feeling. Somehow, Klaus was here.

You wrapped your hands over your bare chest, even though the curtain was pulled and he couldn’t see you.

“Who is this?” you said, though you knew.

“Sadly, not Elena,” Klaus said. “You called me by accident. However, I did leave a message for Elena, so she'll be here soon."

You wished the fall in the bathtub had just killed you. Then you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. The last time you had talked to Klaus was when you had drunken sex in the bushes at the Founder's Ball. What did you say to a person after that?

“Um…thank you,” you forced out.

“It was my pleasure,” Klaus said stiffly. “Well, don't let me - interrupt.”

You heard him walk away. Surprisingly, you felt a stab of fear. If Klaus left, you would be all alone.

“Don't go!” you blurted out. “Stay with me? Till she comes?” you said.

Klaus paused. “Of course, Miss L/n.”

Your eyes widened. Miss L/n? Klaus’s politeness was even more weird than intimacy would have been. Apparently, Klaus could make your eyes roll back in your head in pleasure, but he couldn’t call you by your first name.

A very long time passed where you both said nothing.

You broke it, saying, “Um… could you please give me my phone? It fell, and… I’m bored.”

Klaus pushed your phone through the side of the curtain, without looking in. You tried to grab it, but it slipped out of your hand and fell to the bottom of the bath.

“No!” you cried.

“Y/n?” Klaus said in concern.

“It's nothing,” you said.

“It is something, little human. You dropped the mobile, didn't you?” he replied.

“Maybe,” you whispered.

“Just let me come in and get it, you fool,” he said. “Your pointless modesty achieves nothing.”

You were stunned by the way Klaus had suddenly stopped being polite. “Stop trying to look in here. Pervert,” you shot back.

“Oh please,” Klaus replied. “I know every contour of your little body by heart. And trust me, I've had better.”

You felt yourself blush, and were grateful for the curtain. “Oh really? Which of the… eight women who have slept with you in a thousand years are you thinking of?”

Klaus let out a sudden chuckle, and you found yourself smiling too.

“Oh, Y/n ,” he said. “There was a time when I would snap the neck of anyone who talked to me like that.”

You felt the tiny thrill of pleasure combined with fear that Klaus had always given you. “Please, kill me now,” you answered. “It's better than making chit chat with you.”

Klaus laughed again, not a small chuckle, but a laugh from the belly. You laughed too, until the pain in your ankle felt a little more bearable.

“Just get me out of here,” you groaned. “I want my bed.”

Slowly, Klaus pulled back the curtain. Despite his insults before, he did not look at your body like it was unremarkable. His solemn eyes lingered on every plain of your body. His lips were a hard line of carefully controlled emotion.

Suddenly, the jokey atmosphere evaporated. You had never just had a teasing friendship with Klaus. You had desired each other, so much that you had been willing to risk every relationship you had for one stupid, incredible leap of faith. The memory of that moment hung in the air.

You resisted the urge to cover your body up. Instead, you arched your back, your hair thrown behind your shoulders. You presented your naked body to Klaus like you had nothing to hide.

Klaus smiled slightly, like he could read your mind. Then, he bent over the tub and slowly lifted you into his arms.

Pain shot up your ankle, but with Klaus’s warm breath fanning your bare chest, it was the least of your concerns.

He laid you in bed, leaving your phone beside you, and you wrapped yourself in the covers.

Klaus placed one finger on your chin, and leaned in to your face. His mouth was inches from yours. His eyes flashed to your lips, and instinctively, you felt your whole body tighten in anticipation.

“We - can't do this again,” you blurted out, your heart racing.

Klaus smiled. He had just been reaching to twist a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your face erupted in a painful blush. You couldn’t believe you had assumed he was going to kiss you.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Klaus said with a smile.

Klaus got up, but just before he walked out of the door, he said, “You would have made a great queen, Y/n.”

And while you were still wondering what he meant, he disappeared.

​—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[cale3k00]

Beso (some more of Joseph below.)

[aklaustaleteller]

@ghayda0 requested via submission: Hi, please ignore if you’re not taking requests. Klaus is out all day. Literally from morning to midnight and when he comes back, Y/N is very pissed at him and giving him the silent treatment. At first Klaus’s amused by her actions, thinking Y/N is just being bratty but when she starts tearing up, maybe mid argument, he sees that’s she’s genuinely hurt. Maybe it was their anniversary or her birthday and he forgot. Can be smutty if you want to be, I mean he has to make it up somehow ;)

Entirety of Eternity

Waiting and waiting for Klaus to return home, Y/n's grasp on reality soon slipped and she fell into a sad, sad slumber. But then Klaus finally comes back, and he doesn't know what he's done wrong -- and Y/n won't tell him. Until she does, shouting at him how the night clearly wasn't anything special to him. And now, all Klaus wants is to show her just how much she, and their relationship, truly mean to him.

Warnings - Smut and some mentions of blood.

Word Count - 3.3k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

Not super proud of the way I wrote this one, but I'm pretty certain that it isn't that bad (please tell me it isn't) And thank you for requesting this -- I hope you enjoy reading it!

Y/n was sat on one end of the dining table, her face resting in her quite sweaty palms as she waited for her ears to finally perk up at the sound of the front door to the mansion opening. But it was beginning to cross the two-hour mark and still, there was no sound.

Every once in a while, the sound of her earrings' tiny bells would chime in her ears as she'd change her position to get more comfortable. At least as comfortable as she could on a wooden chair.

A deep wine-red dress adorned her body, pooling on the ground around her feet as she sat. Delicate jewellery hung from her ears, her wrists and a dainty necklace rested just below her collarbone. Sighing defeatedly, she let her head lay atop her arms on the dining table, looking at the polished plates in front of her and then at the empty seat across from her.

Tonight was nothing special, at least not to Klaus considering the fact that he had yet to return home. But it was to her. After all, this was the day that he had turned into a hybrid himself, and then turned her into one as well – justifying it with the purpose that he just wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her.

This was just the fifth year, and already he was forgetting their anniversary.

Maybe this wasn't so special after all. But when you've got the entirety of eternity on your hands, surely you'd try and celebrate as many occasions as possible to keep things special and ...to keep their value.

The clock rang throughout the empty house, finally hitting one in the morning and he still wasn't standing across from her. And she was getting too close to doubting if he even will tonight.

And even if it wasn't so special to him, shouldn't he have listened to her when she'd so excitedly told him to return home early tonight as she'd have something special waiting for him? Wouldn't matter anymore because all the food that she'd cooked herself had gone cold, and the candles she'd set up had burned down to the wick.

The dust had begun to settle on the exposed crockery, the moon had hidden itself behind the clouds and her heart had begun wilting away inside her chest.

She didn't quite realise when her hold on reality slipped and she fell into a sad slumber, but she woke up to the feel of a hand on her arm and a soft voice coaxing her back to life.

"There you are, my darling," Klaus smiled, already kneeling beside her so he was face to face with her. "Why didn't you go to bed?"

Y/n looked at him with eyes that were screaming how could he have the guts, the audacity to ask her that and so callously pretend that he hadn't just come home past midnight despite her sweet request that went against his act.

But when her shouts fell on deaf ears, she simply turned the other way from where Klaus was sitting and stood up. "The dinner's gone cold... I'd suggest you warm it up before eating, it'd taste better," she told him as she walked up the stairs, her gaze empty but her blood heating up rapidly.

Klaus looked at her as she walked away, amusement filling him up to the brim at her antics. Yes, she'd asked him to return early but it was for no special occasion, and he'd gotten himself in a rather sticky situation, so why was she upset out of the blue?

He was even sure that she his reasoning in someone's red blood covering him from head to toe, beginning to dry up. And he wished that she'd clean him up like every other time, so he decided to eat first. Give her some time to change her clothes and get comfortable for the night before he could go over to her and ask her innocently to help him clean himself off.

So he sat and ate, his eyes closing every once in a while at the feeling of the home cooked meal filling him up with all the love he could digest.

Rinsing off his dishes, Klaus sped up the stairs and into the bedroom he shared with Y/n as her lover, a frown settling itself between his brows when he caught her sitting in front of the vanity, lost in some thought as she glared at a broken lipstick.

"What's wrong, my love?" Klaus asked her, concern lacing his voice as he walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders as he locked his eyes with hers in the mirror.

His frown only deepened further when she didn't reply and began removing her jewellery, looking at him with big eyes trembling with fury. He didn't move, not until she was getting up and moving towards the bed, which had him following her hot on her heels.

"C'mon, it's not the right time to be a brat, sweetheart," Klaus joked, chuckling to himself but stopped when she shot him a look sharp enough to make him flinch.

"Just tell me what's happened!" Klaus insisted, kneeling in front of her and holding her hand, ignoring the fact that she didn't weave her fingers through his' and pick his hand up to press a kiss on his knuckles like she usually did.

"Where were you?" She asked, forcing her voice to be at a bay.

"Well, some newbies truly thought that they could have my head on a sword for them to take home to their master,” he chuckled. “And their plan was quite impressive, dare I say,” shrugging he said, passing her a grin which, expectedly, wasn’t reciprocated. 

“I apologise for not coming home earlier,” he sighed. But he knew that she knew that he truly wasn’t, for he didn’t even yet realise the density of this grave mistake he had made. And when she continued with her silence, Klaus finally cracked. 

“It’d not as if tonight’s anything special!”

And right then, Y/n heard something crack inside her. Possibly her dead heart. 

“I know you wanted me to return early tonight and I’m sorry that I didn’t, I truly am!” He almost whined, trying to show her how unreasonable she was being as he started pacing the room. “But this has happened before and you’ve never been this upset, so just tell me what have I done wrong!” 

He felt quite embarrassed once he was done shouting due to her lack of response, and sighed once more before walking towards her.

“It was our anniversary,” she started, quickly glancing at the clock, “yesterday.”

Klaus stopped in midst of his way to her, his heart dropping in his stomach as he finally found himself at a loss of words. His mouth moved, but nothing came out except for some incoherent stutters. 

“Forget it. It was nothing special,” she gritted through her teeth, not wanting her anger to get the best of her but she could feel it slipping out of her grasp.

“Darling – I,” Klaus stuttered, looking at the floor, wishing it’d remind him how to speak. “I’m so sorry darling,” Klaus breathed, his gaze turning doe-eyed as the realisation set in. 

“No you’re not!” Y/n shouted, getting off the bed to walk towards him. “You are not sorry, Klaus. You clearly don’t care!”

Hot tears were lined up against her lower lashline, making it hard for her to see clearly.

“You were showing that last night meant nothing to you for so long and you even said it! It was no special occasion!” She yelled, her voice shaking as her brain debated whether she was trying to convince herself about that, or him. 

And the way she was talking about their anniversary in a way that it truly had passed and that it was the next day, was only breaking his heart worse. 

“Darling our anniversary means the world to me,” he desperately said. “I’d just carelessly forgotten about it but please don’t think that it doesn’t mean anything to me,” he whispered, his eyes aching to meet with hers but she just wouldn’t let it happen, looking to the side. 

But the moment those words left  his mouth, a bitter chuckle escaped her mouth as she finally looked him in the eyes. 

“Can you hear yourself Klaus?” She asked him, shaking her head. “If it did mean anything to you, you wouldn’t have forgotten about it!” She told him, fisting her hand to prevent herself from ripping her hair out of her scalp. 

“Please let me make it up to you, darling,” Klaus begged, his own tears threatening to spill. “I’d been a bastard to do such a thing but please let me show you how much you mean to me,” his voice went meek as he lowered his head to meet her eyes. “How much this,” Klaus whispered, motioning his hand to point at her and then at himself, “means to me,” he finished, cautiously cupping her face in his rough hands. 

And he breathed in relief when she leaned into his touch, a tear rolling down her cheek. 

“I cooked us a meal, lit up candles and I only wore this dress so you could take it off,” she admitted, a tinge of pink rising on her cheeks, betraying her sadness. “And you just had to go and mess everything up,” she sighed, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, clinging to his torso while resting her face in the cervix of his neck, ignoring the dried blood that covered his clothes and exposed skin. 

“And I’m so sorry darling,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I swear I’ll never do something like this again,” he smiled, swaying them side to side. 

Y/n detached herself from him then, her hair a bit ruffled due to his touch. “Please don’t,” she chuckled, pressing a quick kiss on his lips before weaving their fingers together and walking towards the bathroom. 

“You better not show up some day covered in your own blood,” Y/n warned him as she sat him on the bathroom counter and wetted a towel. 

She began wiping the blood off of him with ease, having done this a million and more times by now. And she’d just wiped down his neck when she realised that he had way more blood on him that she’d expected, and some in his hair as well.

“Why don’t you just take a shower? You genuinely have blood everywhere, hell it’s even in your hair,” she laughed and didn’t wait for his answer as she went on to turn on the shower and nodded her head at him, urging him to get in already. 

“You’re not joining me, are you?” Klaus asked, teasingly and nervously. 

“You wish, don’t you?” She grinned before walking out, her ears picking up on him mumbling how she very well knew that he did. 

And Y/n had just been sitting on the bed, waiting for him when he finally walked out of the shower, in a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. And his drenched curls stuck to his forehead while water shone off of his chiselled chest, a teasing smirk on his mouth as he looked at her while she took him in.

He began walking towards her, a certain glint in his eyes as he watched her shut off the book in her lap and place it on her bedside table. Once he stood beside her, he took her hands in his and began moving so that she’d stand up and walk with him. 

Leaning in, he hovered his mouth over hers before tilting his head slightly so that he was whispering in her ear.

“You said you’d only worn this dress so I could take it off… yes?” He asked her, beginning to sway the two of them across the room, listening in to hear her heartbeat picking up while her heavy breath fanned his neck. 

Y/n hummed in response, her eyes fluttering close when he began pressing feather light kisses up her neck. She looked at him with intrigue when he stood the both of them in front of the mirror, looking at her with the slightest smirk from behind. 

“Gonna still let me take you up on that offer, darling?” he asked, his fingers dancing across her shoulders until she nodded her head, and whispered a small yes. 

“Gonna let me show you how much truly special you are to me?” He asked again, clearly teasing her as he fingers travelled to her back. He pressed his mouth against her jaw when she nodded again, eyes still on her in the mirror as he began nipping at her skin, leaving behind the very first hickey. 

He undid the chain of the dress, letting it slump off of her torso and expose her naked breasts to him. No bra, he grinned, licking the bruising skin on her jaw as a blush creeped up on the highs of her cheeks. 

From behind, his hands slithered across her skin, from her back to now her breasts, flicking the hardened nipples as he littered love bites all over her neck. 

He made sure that while he touched her, his eyes remained locked with hers. She knew after so many years with him that he preferred eye contact during such intimate moments, that he preferred to see how much effect he had on her – how he had her at his mercy just by touch. 

“Klaus,” she breathed with pleading eyes and let her head fall against his chest as he began to force the rest of her dress to slip off of her figure. 

“Darling,” Klaus smiled, turning her around once she’d stepped out of the dress that was merely a pool on the floor now. He picked her up, bridal style and walked over to their bed, laying her on it gently unlike other times when he’d roughly toss her on it. After all, he had some apologising to do tonight.

Moving to hover above her, Klaus resumed his kisses and marks, slipping lower and lower on her body until her fingers were clutching his curls while he bit lightly on the lowest point of her stomach. 

“Stop all this teasing now, Klaus,” Y/n asked of him, propping herself up on her elbows to look at him with a rather scolding look as he looked back at her with mischievousness swimming in his eyes.

“Only because I’m truly sorry,” Klaus grinned at her, teasing her for the final time before he pressed his mouth against her aching core, licking up her hole to her clit, spreading her arousal before he could actually begin. 

Y/n’s breathing hitched and a moan escaped her mouth when she felt him increase his pace a bit. His fingers dug into the skin on her hips as he kept his hold tight on her, forcing himself as close to her pussy as he could, his nose breathing in her scent and tongue lapping up her wetness. 

“Oh Klaus,” she whined when he shifted all his attention on her clit, sucking on it until he began feeling a tremor coursing through her thighs. 

He went back to licking up her arousal then, wanting to prolong her orgasm to give her a good one instead. And his own grunts began to vibrate against her core when he began to rub against the bed, causing her arousal begin dripping down his chin. 

“You taste fucking amazing, darling,” he told her as he pushed a finger inside her with ease, quickly adding another one at the realisation of just how open and ready he’d got her dawned on him. 

Y/n mewled above him, her moans turning into louder groans as he pushed himself against her core again, flicking her clit with his tongue while pumping his fingers inside her at a fast pace. Her eyes fell shut as the knot in her belly began to move lower and lower, a pleasing and burning sensation coursing through her body, causing her to begin shaking. 

Her thighs instinctively closed shut around Klaus’ head, her hands pushing against his head to get away from him, making him increase his pace even more. 

“Klaus, please!” She cried out to him, begging for release while her back arched off the bed, her eyes flying open when Klaus detached his mouth from her, keeping his fingers at work regardless. 

“Look at me,” he breathed, her arousal smeared across his mouth, along with a couple strings connecting his mouth and her core.

And he went right back to messing with her now puffy clit once he had her eyes on him. Noises of his tongue licking her up and down began to fill the room along with the ones coming from him fingering her, and her hips stuttered to move just once more before she was crying out, trying with all her might to get away from his mouth as she grew more and more sensitive as he made her ride out her orgasm. 

Klaus finally stopped after a couple more kitten licks then, crawling back up to her to kiss her. And he had just cupped her jaw when she flipped them over, now straddling his naked hips as the towel remained lying near the foot of the bed. 

And she began lining his hardened cock against her pussy, slowly sinking down on him until he was fully inside her. She placed her hands on top of his which were situated on her waist and then she began moving up and down, increasing her pace with each jump. 

“Only because I’m forgiving you,” she lazily grinned at him, making him chuckle hoarsely.

Klaus’ hands slowly slithered up her torso then, and cupped her breasts as their bouncing in his face was going to make him reach his high embarrassingly fast. 

And when he noticed her pace slowing down, he placed his hold back on her waist to hold her in place while he thrusted up into her, fucking her well enough for her to lean forward and hover over him with her eyes clenched shut. 

“Fucking hell,” Klaus gritted as her breasts were now back in his face, bouncing so prettily that he couldn’t help but take one of her nipples in his mouth to tease her into another orgasm now. 

“Oh I’m gonna cum again,” she moaned close to his ears, and it was enough to make him slip his hand between their connected bodies and rub her clit, all while he felt himself growing closer and closer to tipping over the edge himself. 

“Give it to me darling – give it to your husband,” Klaus groaned as he felt her walls clench around him, her orgasm slipping past her entrance and onto the base of his cock, making him spill inside her with a loud moan.

Making a few more deep and hard thrusts, Klaus finally stopped, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy as Y/n laid on top of him, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

“I fear you’ll need another shower, Klaus,” Y/n giggled, laughing harder when he sped both of them into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, kissing her with a wide grin on his own mouth. 

“Please buy more dresses just for me to take them off, my love,” Klaus told her, his teasing grin turning into dropped jaw when her arse brushed against him, eliciting an even deeper moan from him when she pressed herself further into him and began peppering kisses across his chest, nipping at the skin every once in a while just to hear him hiss.

“For the entirety of eternity, yes?” She grinned, yelling in surprise when he pushed her against the wall and pressed his mouth on hers, mumbling a hoarse ‘yes’ as she wrapped her legs around his waist.   

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hi hi!

If your last post (Klaus!alpha) I lovedddd!!

I noticed you mentioned omegas stealing alphas

Would you consider doing a story where Klaus is with an omega (maybe tatia or caroline) but he finds reader and realises she’s not just an omega but his mate and his wolf gets desperate to knot her instead?

No Lies can Keep me Away -Alpha!Klaus

(I will absolutely write that! I love this request so much, however I’m not okay with cheating so Klaus will Not be cheating but he will be ‘leaving’ Caroline for his Omega)

Warning: Mentions of SA while too drunk to consent

They were not together.

Klaus had made that clear to Caroline about 1,000 times. He was an Alpha and he wanted his own Omega, the one that was made just for him. Until then however, Caroline was a fun distraction. Klaus hated being alone, other than when he was painting, and so she was perfect since she was always happy to spend time with him. That is all they were, friends with some benefits.

Klaus had never really considered how far Caroline would go to “keep him” but when he did she was lucky he was too busy to kill her.

Klaus didn’t have many friends, his group was small and just made up of his brother and Caroline’s friends. Elijah was mated to Katherine who was Caroline’s best friend then there was Bonnie and Y/n. Y/n and Caroline were both Omegas and only friends because of Bonnie and Katherine, Omegas almost always hate each other and it was very clear that Caroline was the “dominant” so to speak. Y/n was quiet and always deferred to her friends, following along with what they did even if she didn’t want to. Klaus often felt bad for her, she clearly needed an Alpha, someone to protect her, she was too sweet for her own good and it got her hurt a lot. He would speak up for her much of the time when Caroline went too far like trying to force her into going home with guys from whatever bar they were at when she clearly didn’t want to. It always ended up with Caroline up his ass for “being in love” with her and how he never defends her like that.

Klaus couldn’t help it. Something about Y/n made him protective and he wanted to ensure she was safe. He never expected that to mean anything more than him just wanting to protect the sweet girl, until the morning after finals.

Klaus awoke on the couch to a whimpering sound tugging at his chest, instantly noticing that Caroline was cuddled into his side making him groan. She knew he hated her doing this, hated her pretending they were more than they were and cuddling into him while he’s passed out from a night of drinking. She just wanted to be able to tell everyone they “cuddled all night” and it was one of the things he hated the most. Caroline ended up in his bed after a party a lot, dragging him off to bed and staying the night only for them to both wake up naked. He knew she enjoyed fucking him when he was drunk since he didn’t “treat her like nothing but a simple fuck” as she put it or push her away afterwards but he always felt so grossed out after it happened, like he couldn’t wash the experience away without scraping off his skin. Luckily today they passed out in Katherine’s apartment on the couch and that left no room for her to do anything.

He sat up, pushing a pillow under her head and shoving the blanket off of him, thankfully she was a deep sleeper and he knew she would be out until much later. While he debated on getting coffee he noticed Y/n was up, rushing around trying to find her things and whining nervously letting him know that this was the noise that awoke him. He wasn’t shocked, an Omega in distress had always woken him up, ever since Kol presented and would cry over whatever was bothering him that day, he always had been a weepy Omega.

‘It’s up there.’ He pointed and she jumped, not having realized she wasn’t the only one awake. He pointed to her boot that was, for some reason, on the bookshelf. ‘I’ll get it-‘

‘No!’ She exclaimed and he jumped in surprise, never having known her to be loud…ever. ‘I mean-I’ve got it. Go back to sleep, Caroline will be upset if you leave her alone.’ She stated, reaching high to barely get the shoe from the top shelf, Klaus staring at her ass in those cute shorts which always made his pants tight. He had wished for years that this sweet little Omega could have been his with how strongly she set him on edge. She was just such a perfect Omega that he knew he would live his life jealous of whoever she did end up with while he would probably be stuck with Caroline forever just to avoid loneliness.

‘Fuck that, she doesn’t care when I’m pissed, she can be as upset with me as she wants…classes are over, where are you rushing off to?’ He wondered, the hangover beginning to be too much with the sun coming through the shades.

‘I just have to go home. I have something I have to get by 8 and it’s-Fuck! Bye!’ She exclaimed, not tying her boots as she ran passed him and out the front door. Klaus stood, grabbing his keys, phone and wallet before sliding on his shoes and closing the door behind him to see her leaning against the side of Caroline’s car and groaning.

‘Yeah, we threw that in the fire last night.’ Y/n’s bike had been thrown into the bonfire at some point when Caroline pointed out she wouldn’t need the stupid thing to get to and from classes anymore. ‘Get in, I’ll drive you-‘

‘No! No, you don’t need to. I’ll run, it’s no big deal-‘

‘Y/n! Seriously, you hate running and it’s not a problem. I’m going to get coffee anyway. We’ll go get your stuff and we’ll pick up coffee for everyone on the way back. Get in the car, I’m not taking “no” for an answer.’ She groaned before jumping into the truck and sitting in the back seat as far from him as possible. ‘I’m not a chauffeur love, get up here.’ He teased and grinned when she cracked a smile. ‘You don’t need to be so nervous, she’s not going to hurt you.’ Klaus knew that Caroline hated him being around other Omegas especially alone and that included Y/n, even though he knew her scent and she wasn’t his mate, Caroline didn’t seem to care. She hated him around Y/n most of all, even more than strangers.

‘You clearly don’t know your girlfriend very well.’ She mumbled, arms crossed and leaning away from him against the door in a position that looked painful with how far away she was trying to get.

‘I don’t know how many times I can tell people this, she is Not my girlfriend! Yes, we sleep together sometimes but it’s only ever been because I hate being alone that we’ve hung out together. I feel like I’ve made it very clear to everyone that I’m waiting for my mate and she…she just doesn’t care. It’s honestly annoying, she doesn’t care what I like and don’t like, she does what she wants, like sleeping with me in my bed. I’ve told her not to a billion times but does she listen? No, she just climbs into my bed when I’m drunk as hell and fucks me. She always tells people we’re together and makes me look like an ass when I tell people we’re not. I don’t…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant to you like that, I…I’m sorry.’

‘Klaus…you don’t need to be sorry. I didn’t know, she always said…I didn’t know you were looking for your mate. I-fuck…I’m so sorry.’ Y/n wanted to tell him but after all these years she didn’t know how to…sadly it seemed, she didn’t need to because the universe was going to do it for her. The suppressants that Omegas take need to be ingested within the same hour everyday or they stop working almost immediately, needing a constant supply in their body to keep their scent and heat away. Y/n takes hers every morning before classes at 7am, it was now 8 and as her watch began beeping she moved to turn it off quickly.

‘It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have dropped her years ago, I was just scared of not having anyone anymore. The people I hang out with are Caroline’s friends other than Elijah and he’ll do what Katherine says, so will you and Bonnie and I just…I put up with it.’

‘Klaus! She’s sexually assaulting you just so that she can live in a fantasy world where you love her, no one would drop you for that kind of crazy! I…I thought you loved her-I thought…I’m so sorry.’ She couldn’t stop saying it, feeling the need to apologize a billion more times.

Klaus put the car in park as he pulled up outside of her dorm. ‘Please don’t apologize? I’m not-what…what is that smell?’ He questioned and Y/n went rigid.

‘I have to go! I’m not feeling great, I’m just gonna stay in today! Thanks for the ride!’ She rushed her words out before nearly breaking her neck jumping from the truck and slamming the door, sprinting into the dorm leaving Klaus confused and alone to piece things together.

In his defense it only took him a moment of smelling the astounding scent and thinking about what she said and why she was apologizing to figure it all out, the key clue being his forming knot from smelling his Omega for the first time. He was out of the car and in the building in record time before sprinting down the hall to her room, opening the door and seeing her on her bed, tears streaming as she tried to open a pill bottle. Klaus rushed to grab the bottle from her and took it to the bathroom, pouring them into the toilet, Y/n trying to grab the bottle from him.

‘What did you do?!’ She cried, pathetically punching at him for a moment as he flushed them before allowing him to pull her to him and cry against his strong chest. He carried her back into her room and to her nest, allowing her to cry as long as she needed, content as he took in her scent, in a way he never thought he could be. ‘I’m sorry I hit you.’ She mumbled, her voice hoarse from crying.

‘It’s alright. Do you feel better now?’ She shook her head, moving to pull away but he held her tight. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Y/n? You’re my Omega, the most important thing in the world for me-for us…what did you think I was going to do?’

‘I was already on the suppressants when I started school here. When I realized you were…well-‘

‘Your Alpha. You can say it. I’m your Alpha, and you’re my Omega.’ She nodded, looking up at him unsure before he kissed her head.

‘I told Caroline about it as soon as I realized and she said you two were together. That you were in love and I…I didn’t want to ruin that for you. Plenty of people don’t wait for their mates and when she said you had given up looking I just…I wanted you to be happy. She always made it seem like you were and…I’m so sorry!

‘No. No more of that. She lied to us both…no more hiding. Okay?’ Y/n nodded and Klaus pulled her close before pressing his lips to hers. She hesitated but as he tightened his grip on her waist her body melted into his, 4 years of suffering with her Alphas scent under her nose and unable to be with him finally being over. ‘I’m sorry that you had to suffer through that, I should have rid myself of her a long time ago. I’m scared of being alone…it’s embarrassing to admit but putting up with her abuse and crazy bullshit was easier than…I’m-‘

‘If you say “sorry” I’m going to spank you.’ His eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face that he could not stop. ‘She hurt you, she lied to you and she-she assaulted you. We both fucked up but I’m happy to blame it all on Caroline since that’s where it all started and as soon as I see her face I’m going to cave it in for ever hurting my Alpha.’ She growled angrily.

‘That was the cutest little growl. Oh my God, you’re so precious!’ He coo’ed, pulling her close to kiss her again just before his phone began ringing. They both groaned, knowing whose ringtone it was as it sang Material Girl by Madonna and Klaus pulled his phone out, silencing the call, kissing her again. He had just pulled her to straddle his lap when her phone began to ring.

‘Okay, you know what? This is just going off.’ She rejected the call, blocking Caroline’s number and turning off her phone, her Alpha laughing and joining her immediately.

‘She’s going to lose her mind.’ He laughed, feeling a tad giddy, enjoying the idea of making her as upset as she constantly made him. ‘You smell wonderful, you know that?’ His nose found it’s way back to her neck and he enjoyed the little giggle she let slip, usually being so quiet. ‘Don’t you ever hide this from me again…wanna scent you for the rest of my life.’

‘Whenever you want Alpha, all yours.’ She purred, snuggling in close.

‘It won’t be long now that you missed the suppressants, your heat will probably start by tomorrow.’ He told her, moving to take off her jacket and shoes as well as his own before pulling the comforter over them in the already chilled room but making a mental note to make it colder as she would probably begin sweating in the night. Good thing about Omega dorms, they always (legally have to) have amazing air conditioning units. All Omega dorms had to have the option of killer AC with how hot they get at all times but especially during their heat. Her nest was cozy and wonderfully scented, he would be shocked if he could ever summon the willpower to leave it.

‘Please don’t leave? I don’t-‘

‘No Omega, I’m not going anywhere. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want but I will be here to take care of you. I’m going to do it right now, I promise. For now, you need to sleep. You’re hung over, dehydrated and sleep deprived, drink for me.’ He instructed as he got a bottle of water from the mini fridge beside the bed and had her drink half of it.

‘Don’t torture yourself okay?’ He looked at her questioningly, not understanding what she meant. ‘I want you, don’t get all dumb wondering if I would want you to touch me, you can help me through it…if you want to.’ She rushed out and Klaus just smiled. ‘I know maybe being with someone is uncomfortable for you and if all you want is to just be here with me then that’s okay, don’t torture yourself either way.’

Klaus was touched. Not only was she willing to trust him to do as her Alpha should and rut her through her heat but she is willing to suffer without it if he isn’t comfortable after everything Caroline had done to him. ‘No one has ever been that understanding before. I’m okay, I promise, I will always take care of you Omega…I’ve been looking for you for so long and you’ve been here under my nose for 4 years…you’re mine now. I’m stealing you and you’re gonna come and live with me. Got my fathers huge house in Damascus Virginia in the mountains, small town, quiet…everything you want if I remember correctly?’ Y/n was instantly stunned that he had remembered that. ‘I always paid attention. Didn’t like Caroline being cruel to you, turns out she always was anyway and she was using me to do it…‘

‘Virginia it is. Nice place to have a family.’ Klaus’ eyes widen at that thought.

‘You want to have my pups?’ She nodded and he groaned, feeling his cock swell as he pulled her closer, her back now against his chest. ‘I admit, I’ve thought about you swollen with my pups before, look so fucking gorgeous! Gonna be the death of me, Omega…just let your Alpha hold you baby. You need rest before your heat, can’t have you feeling even worse, can I?’

‘My good Alpha, so sweet to me.’ She turned to bury her face into Klaus’ chest and he groaned, holding her to him tightly and waiting until he heard that soft little snore that he knew she made before allowing himself to fall asleep.

They were both awoken (according to the clock) 2 hours later to a loud banging on the door.

‘The TA will make her stop if we just ignore it, it’s alright.’ Klaus mumbled, assuming it was Caroline as he pulled a blanket over their heads before hearing a familiar voice.

‘Niklaus! I know you’re in there, your phone is off! What’s going on, come on?!’ Klaus huffed, kissing her head and moving to speak to Elijah, only to open the door and find his brother along with his girlfriend and Caroline who looked ready to spit venom.

‘Really Elijah? You knew I was avoiding her and you did this? This is why I don’t trust you!’ He growled, moving to slam the door before Caroline caught it, shoving her way in.

‘You! You stole my mate, you little Knot-Hole!’ Everyone in the room reacted to that, even Elijah and Kat being shocked at the derogatory slur that is not permitted on school grounds-let alone to be used to others mates and doing so has gotten people really hurt.

‘If you ever call her that again...’ Klaus warned, stepping around her to get between them when she got too close to the bed. ‘Do not touch her nest, get the fuck out of our room. I don’t need to tell you anything about Y/n and I because you and I were never together. I am not, nor have I ever been your boyfriend, let alone your mate you delusional cunt!’

‘You’re just being cruel now!’ She cried, trying to get sympathy as always though even Kat was unsure what to do after what Caroline had called their friend-another Omega at that. An Omega using that word at all-let alone against another Omega was unheard of.

‘We never dated! Not once, for one singular day! I fucked you because I was lonely and you were fun for a while and I don’t care how cruel that sounds because you knew the deal from day 1. That wasn’t what you wanted though because then you told everyone we were mates even though you knew I was desperately searching for my real Omega, and you kept crawling into my bed which you knew I hated. Then you started fucking me when I was too drunk to push you off just so you could sleep with me without me shoving you away and “treating you like a simple fuck”! And Now I Find Out-You’ve been Lying to Y/n about us to keep her from telling me the truth for 4 years! She’s my Omega! Not a fun night, not a girlfriend to waste time with, My Omega! You’re a manipulative, slutty cunt and I want you out of our room and out of my life! You can also be damn sure I will be telling everyone exactly what you are.’

‘Yeah, a fucking rapist…’ Y/n scoffed, Caroline glaring and baring her fangs at the shy girl that she knew would never defend herself.

‘Shut your lying, thief mouth! You Stole my Alpha! What kind of a friend are you-‘

‘You stole mine for 4 years, right back at you whore.’ Everyone was shocked in that moment, never having heard the sweet creature say anything like that before.

‘Oh. Now that you have what’s mine behind you, you think you’re all big and bad? No, you’re still a useless little Fuckhole that nobody has ever wanted. He’ll come back to me when he realizes how useless you are-‘ Caroline was cut off as her ex best friend launched herself forward from the nest and took her to the floor, beating her violently and digging her claws into her face in a vicious attack.

‘You’re a dirty fucking rapist and if you ever come near him again I will cut you up so bad they’ll never get all the pieces together again, you filthy fucking whore-I-‘

She got no more words out as her Alphas arms wrapped around her and lifted her off the bloody mess that Caroline once called a face. ‘Enough Omega, Shh, it’s okay. She’s going, you’re alright!’ He put her back into her nest and grabbed the baby wipes he kept in his bag for his future Omega (along with hair ties, chapstick and a pad for surprise heat symptoms), quickly beginning to clean off the blood from her claws.

Neither Elijah nor Katherine moved to help Caroline no matter how much she whined. ‘Kat…’

‘Don’t Kat me, I’m not having you think you can climb on top of my man next. Get the fuck away from me.’ She growled, grabbing the blonde by her hair and dragging her into the hallway, Klaus moving to watch the Omega be dropped in a pathetic pile in the dorm hall. ‘I was recording cause I thought it would be funny to watch Klaus get told off but I’ll give it to the cops cause she definitely needs an ambulance.’ Katherine chuckled maliciously. ‘I’m sorry for everything Klaus, I wish you would have just told us the truth, we would have gotten rid of her years ago. You and I may not be best friends but we’re family and that shit is not okay.’ Kat moved to hug him, stopping 3 steps away as Y/n hissed out a warning that was instantly enough.

‘We’ll deal with the police. They won’t bother you until her heat is over. Text me if you need anything, I’ll bring you your meals for the week, least I can do.’ Elijah offered and Klaus agreed.

‘Thank you brother. If you could bring some protein bars and some juice later tonight, that would be great, I need to rehydrate her after last night.’

‘Of course. I’ll bring some of your favorite snacks too. Anything else, just t-‘ Elijah cut himself off, his eyes dilating as he was overcome with a thick, heavy scent coming from the nest that he was the closest to, Klaus moving to grab him and shove him out at a breakneck speed.

‘Text me when you’re here later tonight, bring me some of my clothes and my fan from my dorm room as well.’ He rushed out before shutting the door behind him. He knew air blowing directly on her as she’s like this would be good for her and as he turned around and noticed her sweating he’s glad he did. ‘Your heat hit you faster than we expected, huh?’ Klaus teased and Y/n just whined making grabby hands at him before he pulled off his clothes and crawled into the nest. ‘Don’t worry Omega, Alpha is here for you-‘

‘Knot! Knot Alpha! Need it, Please?!’ She pleaded, moving to present herself for him only to have him stop her and pin her on her back. It wasn’t the best position to ensure pregnancy but that didn’t matter to him, he needed to care for his Omega and they hadn’t been together once yet. He refused to take her like that the first time. ‘Alpha-‘

‘Shh…relax pet. I’m right here. Alphas gonna give you what you want.’ He promised, as he kissed her lips softly, lining his cock up with her soaking wet pussy and easing in, keeping her hips from forcing him deeper. His knot was already swelling and Klaus pulled her legs up to bottom out inside of her, her hips humping up into him. ‘Is my pretty Omega gonna cum on my cock already? Such a needy little thing.’ He teased as if he wasn’t seconds from spewing his own end which is exactly what happened 10 seconds later when she squeezed him almost painfully, his knot locking into place as it’s supposed to.

‘Yes…my knot…mine-‘

‘All yours Princess-nobody else’s-never given it to anybody. Alphas gonna knot you so much tonight people won’t know where you start and I end…all mine. No one will ever keep you from me again Omega, I promise.’

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[songbirdmunson]

eddie will call you whatever you want 🩵