#macrinus smut

[ghostyeyestohide]

Between Us

Pairing: Macrinus (Gladiator II) x Cassia (Plus Size Black Fem OC)

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ (MINORS, SCROLL AWAY), buildup (if you got the attention span of a squirrel, DONT READ), oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), titty sucking/fondling, worshipping, some bisexuality (kissing and handjob from m), choking, some masdom, some edging, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, age gap, slight voyeurism, cussing, aftercare, drinking, some angst, pregnancy, mentions of violence, slavery, and death, and Non-Canon/Canon (Spoilers if you haven’t seen it).

Summary: After watching the intense fight between Hanno and General Acacius, Cassia is assigned as a reward to Macrinus, in which he takes her away to spend some private time with her.

A/N: Wanted to write because I saw this and Denzel was not only evil as hell, but fine doing it. That’s a generational talent right there. Also, I do apologize if some of this is historically inaccurate or the language is nowhere close to it. I love social studies, but I know my knowledge of Roman History is quite rusty.

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do not copy or repost my work. I do not authorize it.

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Citizens in the Colosseum are going crazy, watching Hanno and General Acacius fight after the latter and his wife, Lucilla, attempted to overthrow emperors Greta and Caracalla to restore an oligarchy republic.

The crowd gets rowdy as the guards, arms with bow and arrows, are making sure they don’t riot during this.

Watching the fight from crowd is Cassia, an arm scarred, tall, voluptuous woman, sitting with her fellow sisters as their owner, Dominus, stands behind them with a stoneface expression.

“Kill him!” said Aelia, one of the girls, with the audience joining in on the cheering.

“All that yelling, yet you can’t seem to bring me more clients.” mumbled Dominus, making her look at him.

“Tell them to be gentle then. Especially to the newbie because they seem to like attempting murder on her.” she said, pointing at Cassia.

“She’s just disobedient. She’ll get there one day.” he said, gently touching her shoulder, making her shudder.

“That will be a cold day in hell.” said Cassia.

“I didn’t waste all that money on you just so you can refuse to do what you got paid to do.”

“It’s not like I had a choice.”

“And guess what? You’re my biggest attraction since I bought you, so you need to give in!”

“Nobody wants to please a bunch of rough, two minute silencers every night!” she replied, going back to watching the fight.

Suddenly, she feels her hair being yanked back, forcing her to look at Dominus’ face, a dark glare expressed over his face.

“You’re lucky we’re in public, but after we leave, you’re on punishment for the night. You get no dinner, just straight to be—“

Suddenly, a metal object strikes him across the face, making him let her hair go. As he looks to see who threw that, two guards stand next to him, holding their spears at him, close enough to stab him.

“What the hell..”

“He said to quit messing with his reward or else.” said the tall one.

“Or what?” he replied, preparing to strike.

“Wanna find out right now?”

Dominus doesn’t say nothing, just puffs out really hard. The guards puts their spears down and walks away, not saying another word to him.

“What do they mean reward?” she asks, looking at him.

“If Hanno wins, you’re someone’s reward for the night. If not…..you’re on punishment.” he replied, getting in her ear.

He goes back to his position, watching the fight with Cassia doing the same, with a bit of fear in her eyes. Who’s the stranger? I’m now a reward? I hope he isn’t like the clients I’ve dealt were racing in her mind as Hanno slices Acacius, making everyone gasp.

“COME ON, ACACIUS! FIGHT BACK!” yelled Aelia, stopping her feet to give him adrenaline.

Cassia giggled, impressed that Aelia finds this very entertaining as she doesn’t get it herself. Sure, the idea of being free sounds understandable, but you have to kill other gladiators? That’s the questionable part.

“Seen that gentleman looking at you over there?” asked Diana, another girl, as she pointed at him.

Following her direction, she looks into the boxes and sees an older, bearded black gentleman covered in gold jewelry, a white dress, and a gold tunic looking at her, intrigued by her beauty. He sends a wink at her, making her blush and look away as the sounds of swords clanging gets louder.

“You know him?”

“Kind of. I know he’s close with Hanno since he trains him and the other gladiators.”

“Ahh. So he’s their owner.”

“Yeah. Very brutal too.”

“Not surprising. They make him money, they better give the crowd a good show.”

“Mmhm. But really…..”

She pulls her close, making sure no one else is listening to their conversation before leaning towards her ear.

“They’re saying he wants to be the next emperor of Rome. He wants Geta and Caracalla out and will do anything to make it happen.” she whispered, surprising Cassia.

“Him? To run Rome? That sounds like a dream anyone wants.”

“And he’s determine to make it happen. And if he succeeds by being selected for the senate, he wants a wife that can grant him a heir so the tradition can live on.”

“How did you find all of this out?”

“Two clients me and Meena were pleasuring at once were discussing it openly. I guess they weren’t expecting whores to understand what they were talking about, but I would be cautious if I was them. He’ll get mad if someone leaks his plans.”

Cassia nodded, turning to resume watching the fight. After a few more swings, Hanno wins, making everyone cheer and boo. However, he tosses his sword and kneels in from of him, refusing to kill him.

“He’s not gonna kill him?” asked Cassia, looking at both men on the ground.

“I guess he’s standing in solidarity with the people.” said Diana, shrugging her shoulders.

Greta and Carcalla, irritated with what Hanno did, orders the guards to execute Acacius by shooting him with their arrows, which they complied, instantly killing him.

Members of the crowd begins to attack some of the guards, staring a deadly riot. To avoid being harmed, the women and Dominus depart from their seats, heading downstairs quickly as the emperors do the same, with Macrinus looking at Cassia one more time before she walks outs.

As they reach the bottom of the Colosseum, Dominus turns towards the women, irritation plastered across his face at the chaos going on in the streets.

“I want all of you to head home safely. Diana and Aelia are in charge of you. Don’t try nothing funny because I won’t hesitate to find you if you’re out here, protesting and rioting.” he uttered, giving each one a stern look.

The woman began to line up as a group, but he stops Cassia from joining them.

“Except you, Cassia. Your winner is waiting for us over here.” he said before walking towards where the gladiators were stationed at.

Cassia bids farewell to her sisters before following him, getting right in front as he directs which way to go.

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Dominus walks behind her as they past a lot of gladiators eating in the dining room.

Each are taken aback by her beauty and figure, with some whistling, some flirting, and some attempts of touching were made, but Dominus’ hollow stare scares them away.

“….do you just love to wait to inform us when you put us as rewards or this is just business for you?”

“Business.” he replied, making her roll her eyes.

As they got to where Hanno was, Macrinus, whose talking to him, turns around, dismissing him. Seeing the both of them, he greets them with a gleeful smile, walking up to them.

“Dominus! Good to see you, my boy! I see you got my reward already intact.” he says, shaking Dominus’ hand.

“Yeah. When she’s behaving right.” he replied, looking at her.

“Fuck you.” she mumbled.

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me. You got those big ass ears for a reason.”

“And who is this beauty?”

“Macrinus, this is Cassia. She’s your reward from today’s victory.” he said, shoving her to the ground.

Macrinus looks at her, very shocked that Dominus tossed her like she wasn’t valuable before sending him a menacing look.

“She’ll accompany you to the celebration and will do anything you request. Just you might have to push her.” he continued.

“And why is that?”

“She’s a disobedient girl. Scaring off clients, cheating me out of money.”

“That’s not true!” she said, irritation in her voice.

Dominus gets in her space, giving her a stern look, which makes her bow her head down.

“Who are you talking to?” he asks, grabbing her face to force her to look at him. “Hm? Who are you raising your voice at?”

“That’s enough, Dominus.” said Macrinus, getting between them. “I don’t need you showing your ass in front of guests now.”

“She was being disrespectful. Someone needs to put her in her place—“

“I don’t give a damn what she did. I won the bet, she’s my reward, and she’ll be with me all night while they’re destroying shit. So, what else can I help you with?” he asks, helping her up.

“I’m just putting her—“

“WHAT else can I help you with? I’m not gonna ask you again and you know how I get if I don’t get an answer.”

Dominus looks at her one more time, before clearing his throat and handing him his bag of jewelry. Macrinus takes it, still keeping his eyes on him.

“I’ll be back at prima noctis hora for her. Make sure she doesn’t harm you, my lord. Ave.” he replied, nodding his head and leaving.

Macrinus watches him leave before turning to Cassia, hopefulness blooming in her eyes. He looks her up and down, taking in a better view of a goddess.

“Cassia, huh?” he asked, taking her hand.

“Yes, sir. I mean, my lord.” she nodded, anxiety growing within her.

“Oh, call me Macrinus. You don’t have to say the title shit while you’re with me.” he says, placing a kiss on her hands.

She blushes, feeling the heat building inside her as she feels the coolness of his rings rub against her hand.

“You sure you don’t mind another name?”

“Only if I want you to call me that.” he smiles, hooking his arm around hers as they began walking.

They headed towards the cells to see Hanno before they depart. As they walk through, he notices the attraction she’s getting, which makes him pulls her closer to him.

“You have a beautiful name, you know?” he asks.

“Now what’s beautiful about having a name meaning metal helmet?”

He chuckles, gently rubbing her arm as they turn into a tunnel.

“While it does mean that here, its means cinnamon in other places. It’s a spice, but also symbolizes warmth, harmony, and abundance. You were meant to be here.”

“So eventually, I could become the wife of a future general or Emperor.” she says happily.

“……I think the last one would suit you really well.” he says, giving her a smirk.

She smiles back as they arrive to Hanno’s cell, where Macrinus tells her to wait here as he talks to him. He enters, with the gate closing behind him.

As she waits, she overhears his plans of taking over Rome, saying their dynasty is no longer needed to run it, revealing that Hanno is the missing son of Lucilla, Lucius.

“And does your new whore agree with what you’re planning to do?” Hanno asks him, making her look through the gate.

“….she probably won’t mind because not only will she be better than Lucilla, she’s bare a heir that will run this place better than your people did.” Macrinus replied, getting up to leave.

“You won’t make it far.”

“Oh trust me. I will prevail with ending your dynasty.” he said confidently, walking out of the cell.

Macrinus looks at Cassia, who stands in front of him very bothered by what Lucius said about her. He brushes her hair out of her face before making out with her passionately, gripping her ass. She moans at the touch, kissing him back. He breaks the kiss, smiling as they both look at Lucius.

“Come on, Cassia. We have a celebration to attend.” he said, walking away and pull her with him.

She looks at Lucius one more time, who meets her eyes from his cell, before turning forward.

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As they walk through the crowd of people, Macrinus and Cassia converse closely, looking at the celebration of Hanno’s win around them and the rioting of General Acacius’s death, clashing with the guards.

Drinking, eating, dancing, loud conversations, music, sales of imported goods, clothes, gold, fire pits, fighting, yelling, and more are seen in the busy streets of Rome.

“Besides being the trainer of the gladiators and dressing well, what else do you do?” asked Cassia, looking at him.

“I provide them food and oil to them and the arm. Something the emperors should be doing instead of replicating everything wrong Commodus did.” he replied, smiling at her.

“Sounds like you want them out as soon as possible.”

“….depends on who you’re asking.”

“Whether it’s true or not….I’m behind it.” she said, whispering the last part in his ear.

“Hm.” he replied, looking at her eyes as he rubbed her hand.

The two continued walking into a secluded area, where they come across a table filled with many varieties of food. from fruits to cheese to meats and different types of bread.

Macrinus sends a nod at a guard before grabbing two plates and pilling his with grapes, meats, some cheese, and bread before looking at Cassio, who waiting patiently.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked.

“Oh no.” she shakes her head. “I don’t really eat or drink. Well, I don’t get fed.”

“Why not?” he asked, grabbing a white wine bottle and pouring it into two glasses.

“Um…” she swallows. “It’s punishment for not satisfying a customer. While Dominus and the girls who completed their tasks get full meals, the girls who didn’t get either the crumbs or nothing. Which is usually me.” she replied, slightly embarrassed with revealing that.

Macrinus laughs, shaking his head as he plates her food with everything, even adding extras.

“Well, around here, you’re not gonna starve. And I’ll make sure to remind him of that since you’re doing all the work that fills his pockets. Got it?”

She nods, smiling a bit as he grabbed the plates, gesturing her to grabs the drinks & bottle as he walked towards a table, with her obliging. Just as she was about to sit, he helps her by pulling out her seat, gently pushing her in before sitting across from her.

“Anything on your plate you wanna try first?” he asked her, watching her scan the plate.

“….what’s your recommendation?”

He smiled, picking up a piece of bread and putting prosciutto and smearing some brie on it. He adds a bit of cranberry on it before handing it to her.

“Tastes pretty good together.” he replied, watching her retrieve it.

She examines the bread before taking a bite, chewing for a few seconds. She takes a few more bites before eating the whole thing, earning a chuckle from Macrinus.

“Was I lying?” he asked playfully.

“No, sir.” she shakes her head. “The sweetness from the cranberry, the flakiness of the bread, and the creamy, nutty flavor of the Brie combines very well together. How does one acquire that taste?” she asks, beginning to eat a little more of the bread.

“That’s my side job when I’m not pushing these men to be the best version of themselves. You give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want, but better.” he replied, sipping some of his wine.

“Were you selected to take the job? Or did you have to fight like one of them to get that and freedom?”

“The first one. I worked very hard to get where I am at today than where I was in my slave days. And it’s not an easy journey.”

“You were a slave?”

“Yeah. When Aurelius was ruling, but this was way before Lucilla, Maximus, and Commodus were born. I can remember the harsh treatments…..the way him and guards demean us…..his greed before his change of heart shit took over him. Almost like he was repenting.” he said harshly, growing angry thinking of it.

“And that’s why you wanna kill Greta and Caracalla.” she said quietly, taking a sip of her wine.

He leans forward, looking at her for a few more moments before pulling him robe back, revealing a branded scar that represents the symbol Aurelius has on his statute.

“Those two are just in the way. And the senate knows it. Hell, so did the general and Lucilla. But my vision of Rome is not similar to theirs. Mines is vengeance for what they did to me and my people.” he replied through gritted teeth.

Cassia traces the scar, softening Macrinus’ demeanor a bit. She looks at him, getting closer to place a kiss on his cheek, making him smile a bit.

“Do what you have to do. They’re making us suffer anyway if they continue to rule.” she said before resuming eating her plate.

He looks at her, scanning all over her body while she eats. The way her mouth moves, her looking around the area they’re in, taking a few sips of wine, and moving onto the next thing.

His eyes fixates on two long-straight scars that starts from the top of her shoulder and ends before it gets to her hands.

“What happened to your arms?” he asks, gently tracing over them.

Her smile drops slightly as she moves them around, the painful memories swirling in her head.

“This is from when I was fighting off a client the first night I was sold to Dominus.” she replied in a hesitant tone.

“Tried to force himself on you?”

“Yeah. Got mad that I wouldn’t give it up easily, so he took a small knife and tried to cut my dress off. Fought back hard and got sliced in the process.”

“And what did he do?”

“Gave him a warning.” she said, shrugging. “The client never came back.”

“So…he got away with harming you….” he said in an irritated tone.

She nodded, looking down. Macrinus’ jaw twitches, hiding his growing flame that is begging to come out and tell him to hunt Dominus down for letting that slide. He relaxes, not wanting to waste their time together.

“Are you pure?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Oh, no sir.” she looked, laughing a bit. “My husband was my first. And only.”

“…….where’s he’s at?”

“Probably rotting on the battlefield. He died while fighting in it.”

“And they just took you?” he asked with a puzzled look.

“Well. Greta and Caracalla ordered our family to be killed. Accusing them of attempted a coup against them when that wasn’t even true. We didn’t even know he died a few months back until that day…”

“Oh wow.” Macrinus replied, surprised about that information.

“They sent standby to kill everyone, including me. Our parents, his siblings, and his nephew. I managed to escape and hid for a few days until I was caught trying to sneak into a ship to Numidia.” she said as she sipped more of her wine.

“I was chained to a pole with other women in some town and sold to Dominus the next day. Been here ever since and….I guess this is how I’m gonna spend the rest of my life.” she said in a somber tone.

“….how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked.

“28. I may be the recent one he acquired, but I’m also the oldest of the girls he has.”

Macrinus nodded, rubbing his hands against hers. He pulls them to his lips, placing kisses all over them while keeping eye contact with her.

“Cassia….it would be a pleasure to heal your pain with taking both of them out and Dominus. And then, I want you as my wife.”

“Damn, I got you whipped already?” she asked, chuckling a bit.

“A woman like you should be living established and relaxed. Especially a woman who can provide me something I want.” he said, kissing over her scar, making her wince a little.

“And what is that?” she asked, her breathing growing a bit loud as he goes a bit higher.

“A heir. A boy or a girl that can continue my beliefs when my time comes to an end.” he whispered, tugging her to come in his lap.

She obliged, carefully sitting where she is across him, wrapping her arm around him neck, gently pushing her breasts into his face. He grins, gently kissing them.

“I can see it.” Peck. “You sitting on the throne.” Peck. “Ass getting thicker.” Peck. “Glowing and our baby growing.” Peck.

He smells her chest, letting out a moan before gently taking one out and massaging it, making her whimper and grip his chest a bit. The coolness of his rings rubbing against her skin arouses her even more.

“These here? Growing bigger, spilling out your top, perfect pillows to lay on? Oh, you’re perfect for me.” he whispered, tracing her nipple with his tongue before sucking on the breast, making her moan.

Cassia begins grinding in his lap, feeling his length growing a bit as he kept sucking, looking at her with hunger in his eyes. He pulls her closer, burying the rest of his in her chest as she throws her head back, mumbling Fuck at the sensation.

A loud thud is heard, making the both of them snap to where it was making the noise. Behind the gates, a group of rioters and guards are clashing, with the guards getting the upper hand.

“Goddamn those rioters!” he mumbled before resuming making out with Cassia’s beats.

Two black men, a young adult and middle aged, walk into the room, heading towards them. Macrinus gently pulls her top up and ushers her off his lap as he gets up, fixing himself.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t it my two favorite boys?” he said enthusiastically, opening his arms up.

The men each hug him, with the young one giving him a passionate kiss. Cassia quietly sits in her seat, continuing to eat and not engage with what she witnessed.

“Alright, alright. Not in front of my future spouse now.” Macrinus said, gently grabbing his ass before pushing him back.

“Oh, we didn’t know we were interrupting something.” the middle aged one said, looking at Cassia.

“She is a beauty, not going to lie.” said the young one, walking over to look at her a little close.

“Don’t scare her, Felix.” said Macrinus, sitting back down in his seat.

“I’m not! I’m just…..taken aback that you pulled her in comparison to you.” he said, with Cassia looking at him.

Macrinus slaps his ass, making him yelp and the middle age one laugh as he sat next to him and Cassia smile a bit.

“Oh, where are my manners? Cassia, this is Felix. And Zeno.” he said, pointing at each one.

“Your boytoys?” she asked, eyeing the both of them.

“On some occasions. Zeno helps me with moving the gladiators from arena to arena as Felix….well, relieves my tension if need to.” he replied, rubbing Zeno’s chest.

“He’s a little stiff.” said Felix, sitting next to her.

“And you making stiffer with your arches.” said Zeno, earning a scoff from him.

“It helps me build myself up. A lot of us have an itch that needs some more attention. You would know, right, Cassia?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“What I’m getting is you get tossed between them a lot.” she replied, earning a smile from all three of them.

“I wanted that arrangement. Thought it would work best to feed both of their needs instead of me and Zeno trading.”

“Would that mess it up with me in the equation now?” she asked slyly.

“Depends on how long you make him last.” said Zeno.

“That won’t be hard. I last a good time!” said Macrinus.

“I don’t know…” said Felix, getting up to walk behind her. “She might be tough to last against.”

He traces her arms before wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, pushing her forward, making her lay across the table. She tries to get up, but he keeps his hold on her.

“Watch it, Felix.” Macrinus said with a stone face glare.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m just looking.” he replied, rubbing his hands over her curves.

He pulls her back up, examining her features before sitting back down in his seat. He picks up a grape from her plate and brings it to her mouth, waiting for her to eat it. She looks at Macrinus, who’s watching with a vex in his eyes as Zeno’s hand is moving perpendicularly in his lap.

Is he getting hard from watching this?, she said in her mind as she goes back to Felix, who is still waiting for her.

She engulfs the grape into her mouth, slightly sucking his fingers while keeping her eyes on him, making him grunt a bit. She makes a Pop! sound before locking eyes with Macrinus again, who gently removes Zeno’s hand.

“What do you two want? You’re taking up too much of my time with her.” he said, adjusting himself in his seat.

“Lucilla wants to speak to you before her execution goes forward.” said Zeno.

“And the senate wants to know how are the traitors being sentenced as soon as possible.” said Felix.

“They’ll have their answer, and my presence, by nighttime tomorrow. I’ll figure out what I’m gonna do with Lucius later on. Might keep him alive until my heir arrives.” said Macrinus, eying Cassia.

“And Rome will prevail from there.” said Felix, kissing her hand before getting up to leave.

Zeno nods at both before getting and leaving, with Felix following behind. Macrinus gets up, exposing his twitching semi-hard length at her, which makes her gasp.

“What’s wrong….” he asked before looking down and seeing it. “Oh. We’re not there yet.” he chuckled before tucking it away.

“There’s more?” she asked, sending him a smirk.

“Yeah. I tend to work with it a lot.” he replied.

“We’ll see about that.”

“….don’t tempt me.”

A group of moans are heard, making the both of them look around to see where it’s coming from. In the corner of the area, two citizens, a man and a woman, are having sex.

The woman, with her breast exposed and skirt pushed up, is pressed against the gate as the man plunges behind her, constantly slamming into her as their moans and body smacking fills the room in mixture of the chaos outside the gates.

“Guess they wanted an audience in midst of the fighting.” she said, watching the pleasure grow between them.

Macrinus replied with ‘mhm’ before moving closer, kissing her neck before kissing her, rubbing her sides. She kisses back, fighting for more while gently stroking him through his dress, hearing his breathing become erratic.

He breaks the kiss, catching his breath as he rubbed his head against her, who is patiently waiting for his next order.

“Let’s go somewhere private, shall we?” he said, standing back and holding his hand out.

She nods as she takes his hand and getting up. Grabbing the wine bottle as well, he pulls her into a secret hallway and up the stairs.

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He opens the door, letting her walk in. He orders the guards to stand in front of the door, telling them to knock if Dominus or someone else comes looking for him before walking in, closing the door.

Cassia looks around the room, taking in the gorgeous marble floor, black pillars, chairs, and windows with gold accent accessories accompany it.

Walking towards the center, where the pit of fire stands, she looks at the two throne of chairs front and center, admiring its details.

“Wanna sit up there?” he asked, pouring wine into their glasses.

“How often you ask that?” she replied, looking at him.

He chuckles, walking towards her and handing her the glass, in which she takes.

“You’re a very funny woman, you know. But you are the first one to be in here after hours.” he said, wrapping his hand around hers and pulling her towards the chairs.

“Felix and Zeno won’t be jealous?”

“They’ll be fine.”

Cassia and Macrinus get to the ledge before he places her in the center. He backs up, taking in her beauty as she poses, making him smile before taking a sip of his wine.

“You fit perfectly on the throne, my love. The moonlight enhances your diamond essence into this city. Which is why I chose you to be mine.” he said, placing the wine bottle near the chair.

“And do I get anything in return? Besides bringing in a future and marriage?” she asked, drinking some of her wine.

“Your girls can come live here instead of suffering in the streets when I take my position as emperor. Finest access to jewelry they wouldn’t let you touch, fresh food, water, new items, your own housekeepers, and of course….”

He walks up, with her eyes following him, standing in front as he traces her chin, licking his lips.

“Me. Only me.” he added, tracing over her neck.

He feels her breathing stagger a bit as he goes down further and further until he feels a necklace, pulling it up to examine.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking at the garnet pendant.

“It’s a way for him to spot which girls belong to him whenever we go out in public. We each have different stones that represents us.” she replied.

He nodded, tracing his thumb over the pendant. Suddenly, he rips the necklace off, making her gasp. He throws it in the pit, watching it burn quickly.

“Cheap metal and a fake stone. Guess that’s how he sees you girls.” he said, sitting in one of the chairs.

“He’s not gonna like that.” she mumbled.

“I don’t give a fuck what he likes or doesn’t like. You’re not his property anymore. You belong here now. To me.” he said authoritatively.

“What if he refuses to allow that?”

“He’ll back off. Or else, I’ll make him. Permanently.”

“…..you swear?” she asks, looking at him.

“…..on my soul. I’ll take care of him. But right now.” he said, leaning forward.

He grabs her top and pulls it down, exposing her breasts before pulling her into his lap to straddle him, both locking eyes with each other.

“We were in the middle of something.” he mumbled before kissing her passionately, caressing her back.

Cassia moaned at the coldness and scratchiness of his beard rubbing against her face and chest while kissing as her mound gently rubs against his clothed length, feeling him move her hips to apply more friction.

Macrinus breaks the kiss, tracing his tongue over each breast before engulfing one into his mouth like earlier and sucking whine squeezing the other one and rubbing the nipple between his ring wearing fingers, making her wince loudly.

“Fuck, that feels good.” she whispers in an intoxicated tone, earning a grunt from him.

He released her breast from his mouth, rubbing his face against it before trading places: other one is now being sucked on as he rubs the previous one.

“You’re so good at that, you know?” she whispered, feeling him grab her ass before letting go.

He lets out a Pop! sound as he lets go, rubbing his face between both saliva coated jugglers as he looks up in awe, in a daze with her face..

“I can feel you getting wet and I’m only just making out with these beautiful jewels. They never made this far, huh?” he asked, gently rubbing her hips.

“Never. They don’t like building it up, just immediately going after the gold.” she replied, which he nods.

“You have a lot to experience then. Go sit in that chair and remove the rest of your dress for me.” he said, removing her from his lap.

Cassia pulls the rest of her dress down, leaving her in a gold waist chain that is connected to her underwear. She sits in the chair, waiting for his next move as he watches, taking in her curves and plumpness from her thighs, hips, and shoulders.

He gets up, removing his dress and tunic, leaving him with nothing but his jewelry gleaming against his skin as his now full grown and girthy length moves up and down.

He was lying about his size at all, she said in her mind as he got closer and kneeled down, rubbing her face before kissing her, tracing her thighs in process.

She smiled before kissing him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and tracing over his back. She breaks it, catching her breath as he watches her, lust fully consuming him.

“What do you want to do first?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you be calling the shots?” she replied, tracing over his chin.

“Usually I do. Since I’m the second man crossing over this beauty of land….” as he traces his fingers over her waist chain.

“I think I want to make you comfortable on our first night. What do you say?” he replied.

She nods, earning a peck on her nose as she leans back and opens her legs. He smirked, beginning to place a trail of kisses on her inner thighs, moving closer and closer to her heat before pausing.

“You might have to help me remove these cause I don’t know how, what the hell…” he mumbled, tugging at the underwear, which makes her giggle.

“Here.” she said, bring his hand to one of the clasps and pressing it together, unclamping the underwear.

He nodded, continuing to remove the rest before pulling her underwear off, revealing her glistening essence to him. He stares with hunger, gently placing one leg on his shoulder as he quickly removes his rings.

“Wait.” she said, making him stop in process.

“Something wrong, Cassia?” he asked, a worrying expression on his face.

“No, no, everything is fine. Can you just….leave your pointer & thumb rings on? I like the coolness they give when you touching all over me.” she said, licking her lips at him.

He smirks, removing everything but those four. He leans forward, taking in her luscious core before tracing her slit with his pointer, making her moan a bit.

“All this for me? Oh, you were dying for me to touch you.” he whispers, placing a few kisses around it.

Pulling her a little more to the edge, he pushes her other leg towards her as he licks her slit, making her flinch. He smirks before repeating the motion in a form of making out, making her whimper.

“God, you got a perfect sets of lips.” he mumbled, circling her lips as the mixture of her wetness and his salvia coat his finger.

“Haven’t tasted you for a few moments and you’re getting wetter. You want me to continue, huh?” he asks, looking up at her, who eyes are closed and head is thrown back.

“Please….I miss the feeling of someone making me feel good.” she replied, rubbing her lips on his finger gently.

He didn’t reply, just went back to eating her out, but this time, slurping on her opening as his thumb rubs her clit, making her moan loud. She places her hands on his head, pushing his face further in, feeling his grip on her other leg tightening.

“Sorry. I tend to get a little carried away.” she said, feeling him laugh before a gasp from her comes out.

Macrinus, feeling even more driven, inserts a finger inside, feeling her tightness engulfing him. He curves it, watching her move erratically and whimper loudly.

“Oh, you’re just collapsing under my control.” he said, licking her clit.

“Yes…yes.” is all she could get out as he enters a second finger and begins to plunge them in and out, making her moan even louder.

“That’s right….open a little more for me so he can fit…” he whispers, watching his fingers go in and out as her essence spills down his arm and the chair.

“Fuck….please put your mouth back on her. I feel myself getting close!” she exclaims, tightening around his fingers.

“Whatever you want, baby.” he replied before placing his mouth on her clit, flicking it back and forth as he sped up the pace.

Sounds of her pussy being slapped, her grunts, and his flicking fills the room as the riots continue down below them.

He removes his mouth, looking at her opening as he finger fucks very harshly until her release washes over her. Her moans turning into screams, her body twitching all over, and her essence making a huge mess by squirting all over, making him stare in amazement at his work.

“Fuck, you look good like this.” he mumbled, kissing all over her stomach to her chest to her lips, as she laughs weakly.

“My turn now.” she replied, sitting up straight as Macrinus stands up, stroking himself.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know?” he said, looking at her.

“You think I wanna jump into our session without tasting this first?” she said, wrapping her hand around his length and stroking it.

He holds his hands up in defeat, giving her a wink as she looks at it, mesmerized by its size and girth. All that shit commanding shit he does matches him well.

She traces the tip with her tongue before engulfing all of it into her mouth, hearing him let out an exhale as his fingers run through her hair. She removes herself, catching her breath while stroking the length, giggling to herself.

“You were not lying about you being a lot.” she said, locking eyes with him.

“You handling it like a god..” he replied before reinserting it back into her mouth.

She continues sucking, gently massaging his balls, hearing him wince. He starts picking up his pace, gently hitting the back of her throat. Looking up at him, she bops her head faster, feeling his tip hitting it much rougher.

“Them assholes missed out on this skillful work of yours.” he says, letting out moans.

Then, he grabs her head and begins going at a brisk place, constantly burying her face into his groin as he lets out a few expletives that she couldn’t make out with the fuzzy noise in her ears.

“You like that shit? Old man like me using your throat like you owe me something?!” he asks in a gritty tone, not letting up.

She moans around his length, feeling her chin and chest being coated in the excessive salvia that’s spilling out from his movement, her eyes stinging a bit.

Suddenly, he pulls out of her mouth, making her lean back against the chair. She breathes harshly, recovering from that euphoric moment that happened. He smiles at her dazed posture, looking from her face to her pussy, which is now even more wet.

“Come here..” he whispers, helping her up before sitting in his chair, pulling her along.

He taps her to get on top, in which she obliges. She rub her opening on his tip before lowering herself carefully, wincing as she feels herself being stretched more and more with each inch.

“Macrinus, I don’t think I can take more of you….” she whines.

“Relax. You just have to let the pain pass before I start moving. You’ll feel good real soon.” he replied, moving her hips with his hands.

She moans quietly, wrapping her arms around him tightly as the sensation passes through. He kisses her breasts, sucking on one as he begins bouncing her up and down, plunging into her with each stroke.

“Oh my god….” she whispers in a pathetic tone, feeling his tip poke at a sweet spot.

He smiles, releasing himself from her breast as he speeds up his pace, making her moans come out very pitchy.

“That’s it…..take all of me like that.” he mumbled, slapping her ass few times as she begins riding him, removing his hands and letting her do the rest of the work.

Cassia lets out a few sexual sounds, feeling herself becoming attached to him every time she grinds against the friction and poking he’s giving her. He picks up the bottle of white wine and pours all over her breasts, licking and sucking up the liquid as she moves harder and faster, making him let out a few grunts.

“You’re gonna make me cum again!” she yelps, tightening around him.

Just as she was close to release, he lifts her up, feeling his length thumping very hard as she catches her breath, looking down at her walls clenching. He laughs hoarsely before giving her some sloppy kisses over all, sitting her back in his lap.

“You almost brought me with you and I don’t want that to happen because our night will end super fast.” he mumbled, wiping her sweaty face.

She smiles weakly, nodding her head as she grinds his aching length, earning a few more slaps on her ass.

“I’m not playing, girl.” he said in a dark tone, wrapping his hand around her neck and squeezing it, making her slightly gasp.

“Sorry, sir.” she replied in a pitchy tone, seeing him smile in an evil way.

“It’s okay. Just don’t do that again.” as he pecks on her nose.

“Now go bend that ass over in that chair.” he said, letting her go.

Cassia hurriedly crawls over to the chair, putting her chest on the seat and arching her back so her ass in air, patiently waiting for him to re-enter.

Macrinus examines her body, all sweaty from her movement

“When Rome falls and rises, you’ll be the one standing while everyone is kneeling….” he mumbled, tracing over her cheeks.

“That would be nice, huh? You, me, and our heir being worshipped by these people? Hm?“ he asked, slapping her ass, hearing her whine desperately.

“Yes.” she mumbled, but that earns her another slap.

“I can’t hear you!” he said, smoothing out the stinging.

“Yes, Macrinus!” she yells, slightly moving her hips around.

He gives her a few more slaps, hearing her let out a few cries. He leans forward, pushing her hair out of her face as he gets closer to her ear.

“Please…..” she begged, about to touch herself before he stopped her, locking her arms behind her back.

“Call me by the correct title and I’ll give you what you want.” he whispers into her ear before backing away.

“….yes, Emperor. Please pleasure me again…” she said, breathing harshly.

She waits for his next move, anticipating another slap. Then, he re-inserts himself from behind and begins pounding her, making her moan loudly. His low grunts as he slams aggressively into her fills the room, with him pulling her hair while holding her arms.

“Look at you….” he chuckles seductively. “Taking old man dick from me and enjoying it. That dead husband of yours wasn’t doing you like this, was he?”

“No….no, he wasn’t.” she confessed, feeling him let go of her hair and pull out, just to slam back in her.

Macrinus watches her twitch and make sounds that are so incoherent, it made him pushed deeper into her. He lays on her back, adding his weight on top as he wraps his hand around the front of her neck and pulls her up to his chest a bit, kissing her ear.

“Alright. That’s what I wanted to hear. But now? I want you to cum. Releasing everything all over me and don’t hold back. Got it?” he mumbled, rolling his hips.

“Yes…..yes….yes!” she responded as her release washes over, making her yell and squirt all over him as he continued to fuck her through it, pulling out and watching her collapse to the side, convulsing.

He sits nearby, gently turning her onto her back. He leans over, kissing her chest as she moans quietly, rubbing his face. He gets between her legs and rubs his length between her folds, watching her grab her legs and hold them back, making him chuckle.

“Already know what to do without me telling you. I like that.” he said before inserting inside, hearing her curse.

He wraps his hands around her neck and begins fucking her, going a pace where he is continuously hitting that sweet spot inside her. It doesn’t help that his pressure from squeezing adds onto the copulating tension in the air.

“You ready to be my bride and raise my heir?” he asked, speeding up a bit.

“Me breeding you like this and pushing my babies out? Having them running around Rome and shit?” he continued, not letting up.

“Yes, Emperor…..I’m yours and this body is yours.” she replied, feeling another release building up.

He kisses her sloppily, locking his arms around her as he continue his brutal pace, making her whine and scream as her essence splashes all around. He looks down, watching her grip around him.

“I’m cumming…ugh….fuck!” he yells as he finally releases inside, his load pumping out hasty.

Cassia’s release follows behind, wrapping her legs around him as she twitches underneath, feeling her body release every tense motion in this position.

After a few minutes of recovering, Macrinus gently pulls out, watching her suck the remaining seed in before he got and knocked on the door, asking one of the guard to bring him a bowl of water and some towels.

A quick opening and closing of the door and he’s next to her, squeezing the excessive water out before he rubbing the cooling towel all over her body, cleaning up anything fluids that were there.

“…..do I have to go back?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“When I said I’m silencing him permanently, I meant that.” he replied, helping her sit up.

“Well…..he should be here to pick me up soon.” she said, getting up to put on her dress.

Macrinus nodded, not replying as he put his dress and tunic back on, waiting for a knock from the guards. A few minutes later, loud knocking comes, signaling Dominus has arrived.

“Dominus! Nice to see you again.” said Macrinus as he opens the door and sees the stoneface figure standing.

“Did she comply?” asked Dominus, looking over at Cassia, who’s fixing her hair.

“Yeah. Worn my old ass out if anything!” he chuckles. “But I wanted to renegotiate our deal.”

“Renegotiate?”

“Yes! You see, I asked for her hand in marriage and she is possibly carrying my child, so I don’t think it’s necessary for her to return to you. So, she’s staying with me now and you can go on home..” said Macrinus as he gently pushes Dominus back, but the latter shoves him.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. We agreed that she was your reward and you was going to break into her. She’s my property and I’m here to take her home so the next clients can get a turn.” he replied coldly, making Cassia stand up.

Macrinus looks at him with an ominous glare, stepping back into his spot while keeping eye contact. Then, he takes out his knife and stabs him quickly, making Dominus gasp and look down.

“And that’s the problem. You sees them as property, not women you should be taking care of if you want business to continue.” he said, pushing the blade deeper which makes Dominus wince.

“She told me how she got those scars on her arm and how your lack of discipline towards the client is why she wasn’t giving in. And giving them cheap necklaces with fake pendants to easily find them? Oh, your niggard ass won’t be missed.” he replied, pulling it out and watching him topple over.

Blood spilling out of Dominus’ mouth as he gasps for air, making Cassia turn away, not wanting to see the rest. Macrinus kneels down and slices his neck open, killing him. He tosses the knife next to him and back ups, turning to the doors.

“Chop him up and send it back to his neighborhood. That’ll send a message that she’s not going back, the women are free, and Rome is going to fall.” he told the guards, walking over to Cassia.

The guards rush in and take Dominus’ body as Macrinus wraps his arms around her and they begin walking, leaving the room.

“You okay?” he asks, making sure she is perfectly fine.

Cassia nods, smiling tiredly as she lays her head on his shoulder.

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Its been three months since Cassia slept with Macrinus, but the promised life of being a wife to the Emperor and raising his children never succeeded.

Following the Senate & Caracalla swearing him in and ordering the execution of Lucilla and some senators to be done by Lucius and the gladiators, which turn into chaos that ended with the citizens, Lucius, and the gladiators turning against them, he successfully executed Caracalla and Lucilla before escaping to stop the army Lucius order to invade and wipe out his own.

She doesn’t know the remaining details of what happened, but all she knows is after Lucius sliced Macrinus’ hand off, he killed him and reunited everyone, swearing on his grandfather’s dream of making Rome united and peaceful to other countries they captured.

The news of his death spread fast and she fell out, crying in the streets, with her sisters consoling her. She stayed in the house, missing meals, and not waiting to talk until she began feeling nauseous, crying a little more, and eating more than usual.

That’s when she knew that she was pregnant with their child. She tried to hide it, but gave up around 8 weeks when her belly started to show and it didn’t help that she was already a plus size girl.

Cassia was sitting in a chair inside her room, planning the nursery when she hears a knock on the door.

“Come in.” she said, looking up.

The door opens and Aelia pops her head in, sending her a smile.

“Hey. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” she said, creeping in.

“No, just figuring out things for my child. What’s going on?” Cassia asks.

“I know this is sudden….but the emperor is here. And he wants to speak with you.” she said quickly.

Rage instantly lights up inside Cassia, who tries to get up but Aelia stops her, trying to calm her down.

“I know this is not what you want to hear..”

“You let my husband’s murderer into this house without asking me?!” yelled Cassia as she pushed Aelia, who is not giving up.

“It was unexpected! He just…showed up and walked in, asking for you!”

“Well you tell him to get the hell out and never return or else!” Cassia said, shoving Aelia back hard that she bumps into the cabinet.

“Or else what?” a familiar male voice said.

Turning to the voice, Lucius stands in the doorway, watching everything she did. Cassia stares back at him with a glare, wanting to harm him but knows she can’t do much since anything that can be used as a weapon is far from her.

“Aelia, you can leave us.” he said, walking closer.

“She’s not going anywhere and you don’t bark orders around here.” said Cassia.

“Cassia….just talk to him.” said Aelia.

Aelia bows in front of him before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Tension fills the silence as Lucius walks around, taking in her room before looking towards the curtained window, which has sunlight peeping through.

“….What do you want?” asked Cassia.

“I remember you, you know.” he replied, looking at her.

“So? I have a familiar face around here.”

He laughed quietly, walking towards her.

“I meant I remember you from the day General Acacius was executed. After that. You were accompanying Macrinus and sat outside the cell when we were talking.”

“Oh right. The day you couldn’t bring yourself to killing your stepfather who got your wife killed during the capturing of your land.” she said coldly.

“He apologized.” as he sits in front of her, with her covering her baby bump.

“He didn’t know I was my mother’s missing son. I spared his life for her.”

“And look what it got you? A dead mother.” she scoffed.

“Nothing you say hurts me, Cassia.”

“Who said it’s about hurting you?”

“Well, I know you’re only reacting like this is because of Macrinus.” he said, staring at her.

She laughed evilly, moving a bit in her seat as she leans forward.

“You clearly know nothing about me. You lost your mother and wife? I lost everything because of you and your dynasty. So whatever you’re here looking for, you’re not gonna find it. So, emperor, please leave.” she said, leaning back into her seat.

“I know. Kidnapped after your husband died fighting for Rome, your family accused of trying to steal the throne and being executed, being forced in selling your body so the man who bought can eat, and losing a man who promises a new Rome after you two made a baby out of love…” he said, trying to touch her stomach.

Cassia slaps him very hard, anger inflicted all over her face. Lucius smiles, feeling the stinging grow as he looks at her, slightly turned on by her deviance.

“I can never get my wife back. Nor my parents. But what I can do is help someone out. And someone who is perfect to sit next to me as I lead Rome into a new era. That someone is you, Cassia.”

“Oh, go to hell, Lucius. This city is not gonna take kind to you not only having a big black curvy woman for a wife, but the widow of the man you killed and their son? Not gonna happen.” she replied.

“You think I care? This city made up lies that I was a product of incest between my mother and her brother. You weren’t his wife yet and this is a child out of wedlock. Which is a very common thing around here.”

“I’m not taking your offer. So please go.”

Lucius nods, getting up to walk out. However, he picks her up to her feet, making her step back in fear of what he’ll do. Instead, he drops to his knees and rubs her belly before placing his ear to it.

“If you’re expecting some motion, I’m not that far along.” she said.

“They’re planning to charge you.” he confessed.

“……what?” she said, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I’m aware that Dominus wasn’t very kind to you because most clients couldn’t make it past kissing. But I don’t know what happened to him the night he gave you to Macrinus as his body was….in pieces when they found him.” he replied before getting back up.

“I didn’t kill him! He did. And he told the guards to chop him up! I swear I didn’t touch him.”

“Do you have proof?”

Cassia stares at him, wanting to say no but she knows she didn’t do it. She begins hyperventilating, making Lucius help her sit down and coach her through breathing exercises until she was back to normal.

“…..I didn’t do it!” she exclaims, busting out in tears.

Lucius confronts her, letting her cry it out against his chest. She sniffles, feeling her become numb from her constant crying.

“They can’t take my baby away from me for something I didn’t even do!” she said, looking at him.

“That’s why I’m asking you to join me. I can protect you from execution and being charged, you just have to go along with it. Your girls can come and this will all be forgotten.” he said, leaning forward.

“At least do something that he promised he would give you.” he whispers, rubbing her face.

Lucius kisses her face before walking out, closing the door behind him. She looks around the room as the option lingers in her mind.

Stay here and go to prison with possible execution or go live in the house with your love’s killer and raise your child keep playing as she rubbed her belly. Every fear, tear, anger, and thought riled inside her up until the last moment of her final decision.

Cassia opens the door and walks to the living room where Lucius and her sisters were chattering and eating. She stands in the doorway as his eyes looked at her, silencing the room.

“Everything okay?” asked Diana.

Cassia walks to Lucius, who turns to her in his seat. She stands in front of him and kneels, hearing everyone gasp around the table.

“Emperor Lucius……I take your offering to be your wife and build Rome back up. Like your grandfather wanted.” she said, tears streaming down her face.

Her sisters cheered as Lucius watched, a smile creeping along his face.

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A/N II: I am unfortunately no longer doing the Exotic Travelers series as I’m going into smut retirement again. But I had fun coming back for a bit.

Taglist: @delusioniste @onehalfshrimp

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

AO3 link preview

ONE

A starry night, as though the gods themselves had blessed the heavens. You stand in the place where you often meet General Acacius to maintain appearances. He will spend the day attending to Emperors Geta and Caracalla alongside his wife, Lucilla. Meanwhile, your day will revolve around the gladiators—or, more precisely, their wounds. You have been summoned to tend to the gladiators who will participate in that day's opening of the games—battles they will wage against one another or against beasts. Your thoughts are divided between Marcus Acacius and Hanno, the gladiator you strongly suspect harbors intentions of avenging his wife’s death at Acacius's hands.

"Mea domina, you are here," General Acacius murmurs as he approaches, though his complexion appears unusually pale. He is dressed in a tunic that conceals most of his body, with a laurel crown adorning his head. The lateness of the hour and the absence of natural light obscure your view, but as he draws nearer, you notice a wound bleeding on his arm. You rush toward him, your concern overcoming any formality. Without hesitation, you expose the area of his injury, removing the fabric to inspect it. His skin is feverishly warm beneath your touch.

"Who did this to you, Acacius?" you ask, a wave of anger surging through your body, mingling with an overwhelming sense of concern. "By the Gods, you should have come to me sooner," you say, your voice laced with frustration as your fingers graze his fevered skin, causing him to shiver under your touch. You guide him to a nearby bench, urging him to rest. Knowing him well, you suspect he has concealed his injury from everyone, unwilling to reveal any vulnerability. Fortunately, all are accustomed to you tending to him—it is, after all, one of your roles as his lover.

"I did not wish to trouble anyone, least of all you, Y/N," Acacius replies, his tone steady as he attempts to mask his discomfort. "A gladiator loosed an arrow at me—it must have struck me somehow. Macrinus certainly knows how to select skilled men for his arena." His voice retains its commanding timbre, though his actions betray his weariness. He pulls you closer by the waist, resting his head against your abdomen, as though seeking solace in your presence.

"General, we must go to the place where Ravi keeps his instruments. I must tend to your wounds and return you, whole and well, to your wife," you say, holding Acacius' face in your hands, as if willing him to remain conscious. His deep brown eyes meet yours, their gaze uncharacteristically tender.

"But this is my time with you," he whispers, taking your hands in his and pressing a kiss to each. "And I have told you, you need not address me as General. Our relationship has long surpassed formalities," he says, his voice softer now as he finishes kissing your hands. A fleeting thought tempts you to lean down and kiss him, but before you can act, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. Guards arrive, accompanied by Lucilla and Ravi. You instinctively want to withdraw from Acacius, but his unconscious state forces you to hold him upright.

"Take my husband to his quarters. Ravi is here to see to his treatment," Lucilla commands, her tone dismissive, her gaze avoiding yours entirely. The guards comply, carrying the now-limp Acacius away.

"Y/N," Lucilla addresses you, her voice sharp and deliberate, "from this moment forward, Ravi will be responsible for Acacius' care. I trust the gladiators will suffice to occupy your attention." Her words, though polite in form, carry an unmistakable message: your role as Acacius' lover is nearing its end. Vulnerability washes over you, but you lower your head in acknowledgment, as if understanding her decree. Without another glance, she follows the guards to accompany her husband.

Ravi approaches, carrying his instruments and tools. "I need you to go to Macrinus' gladiator and tend to his wounds. Macrinus has already informed the guards of his gladiator's need for treatment, so you need not fear," Ravi instructs, already preparing to attend to Acacius himself. Fear is far from your mind. The only sentiment stirring within you is anger, directed at the one who dared harm Acacius. You nod in silent agreement and gather the necessary supplies to treat the gladiator, your resolve firm as you set out to fulfill your task.

The guards grant you entry without hesitation, their expressions indifferent. Inside the dimly lit cell, you find Hanno—his body marred by fresh wounds, his face pale but defiant. He appears battered, as though every ounce of strength has been drained from him. Anticipating the state you might find him in, you came prepared with tools to clean his wounds, at least superficially.

"The lovely healer graces me with her presence once more," Hanno mutters, his tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and faint amusement. A strained smile flickers across his lips as he clutches his abdomen, evidently in pain. "I suppose you're here to finish what the guards so generously began." His voice is hoarse and weakened, yet it retains a biting edge.

A chill runs through you as you step closer to him, fully entering his cell. The air feels heavier here, and his piercing gaze follows your every move. "They must have hurt you for what you did to General Acacius," you state, your voice measured as you kneel, setting down your tools. The mention of Acacius draws no sign of remorse from Hanno; instead, he seems emboldened, inching himself nearer to you with deliberate subtlety. As you settle beside him, his proximity becomes undeniable, his rugged presence filling the confined space. Though weakened, there’s an unsettling calm in his demeanor, as though he is testing you, seeking something unspoken within your resolve.

As you begin to cleanse his wounds, the facade of the formidable gladiator crumbles beneath the weight of his pain. Low, anguished groans escape his lips despite his efforts to suppress them. It becomes clear that he is suffering deeply, though he clings to the last vestiges of his pride.

"Ah, here we are again," Hanno murmurs between strained breaths, his voice laced with an uneven mixture of sarcasm and torment. "You, seizing the opportunity to inflict more pain under the guise of tending my wounds, and I, striving to focus on your beauty to mask just how much it hurts."

A flicker of anger rises within you, mingled with a reluctant pity for the state of his battered body. "Flattery will not grant you any special treatment," you reply sharply, leaning in closer to examine his injuries more thoroughly. "I warned you not to harm Acacius dishonorably. I thought you might exercise restraint, but I was mistaken."

With deft movements, you remove the upper portion of his tattered garment to gain better access to the worst of his injuries. He offers no resistance, watching you with an unsettling mix of amusement and interest, as if savoring the attention. "I do recall saying I would take your request under consideration," Hanno says nonchalantly, as though the matter were trivial.

Frustrated by his flippant attitude, you press a tender wound more firmly than necessary. He lets out a guttural cry of pain, his composure faltering for a moment. "Forgive me," you say with a mocking smile, your tone cold. "I must have forgotten to take your suffering under consideration."

He meets your gaze, a faint, knowing grin curling his lips as if he derives some twisted pleasure from your defiance. "If you wish to exact vengeance, then take the dagger you’ve hidden and drive it into my heart," he says, his voice low and steady, despite the evident strain. "It is the only way to shield your precious General Acacius from my wrath." Hanno leans closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours, the proximity of his battered form unsettling. His observation of the concealed blade leaves you momentarily stunned, your grip tightening as the tension between you hangs heavy in the air.

"Is that what you believe I should do—kill you?" you ask, a faint trace of amusement in your tone as you marvel at Hanno's audacity. He leans closer to your face, his gaze sharp and provocative.

"If protecting him is your goal, then yes," Hanno replies, his voice steady, his eyes fixed upon yours with an intensity that borders on insolence.

You smile, intrigued by how easily he speaks of his own demise. "General Acacius is a wise and seasoned warrior. He will know how to deal with you," you say, leaning in as if accepting the challenge his very presence seems to demand.

"If you think I seek an honorable battle with Acacius solely to shield him," you continue, your voice steady and measured, "then you are gravely mistaken. Look at yourself, gladiator. To achieve vengeance, it is not merely strength or skill you require. A true fighter knows which battles are worth fighting." Your hand moves deftly to clean a wound near his neck, blood still seeping from it. He winces slightly but does not pull away, his sharp blue eyes never leaving your face.

"The way you speak, it seems as though you've developed an affection for me, healer," Hanno remarks, his tone soft but probing. "If that is the case, why carry a dagger?" He gently grasps your arm, his grip firm yet careful, as if urging you to give him your full attention.

"Because the wife of General Acacius made it clear before the guards that I will no longer tend to his care. For many of the men here, that declaration is as good as an invitation to see me as their sport," you reply, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

For a moment, something shifts in his expression—a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "I see," he murmurs, his voice lower now. "Then show me. Show me how you would wield it to defend yourself." Though puzzled by his request, you reach for the dagger and position it as you would in a moment of self-defense, your stance steady and deliberate. His eyes follow your movements with a keen focus, his lips curving into a faint, almost approving smile as he observes your resolve.

"You’re holding it incorrectly," he says, taking your hands, still clutching the dagger, and guiding them to a precise spot on the left side of his chest. "Here. Strike here on any opponent—more than once, if need be—and you’ll increase your chances of survival," he instructs, his voice steady, his grip firm but not overbearing.

You had never considered the necessity of knowing how to fight; before Acacius, your late husband had always been there to shield you. But now, an unsettling vulnerability lingers, heavy and unshakable.

"You place too much trust in me," you murmur, your gaze locked with his. "I could hurt you with this dagger right now."

His lips curl into a faint, genuine smile, weak but without hesitation. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if you did," Hanno replies, the tension between you thickening.

You drop the dagger back to its place, snapping yourself out of the moment. "Turn around. I need to apply an herbal salve to the wound on your back so I can retire to my quarters. It has been a long day," you instruct, watching as he complies without protest. His physique, sculpted as one would expect of a gladiator, does not escape your notice. But before your thoughts can wander too far, you refocus, applying the salve with care. He grunts softly at the touch, his pain audible but restrained.

"I could teach you how to defend yourself," Hanno murmurs as you finish tending to his wounds. Once done, he turns to face you, his expression expectant.

"Are you certain you wish to help me, knowing my loyalty lies with General Acacius?" you ask, genuine curiosity laced in your tone.

He lifts a hand to your face, his touch gentle as he caresses your cheek. "Something tells me you need help, and I want to offer it. General Acacius or not, this is about you," he emphasizes, pointing at you, "and me," he finishes, gesturing to himself.

You hesitate, uncertainty flickering in your eyes, but the sincerity in his gaze stirs something within you. Perhaps it would be wise to accept his offer. "Very well, gladiator," you reply, taking the hand that had touched your face and grazing it softly with your fingertips. "Teach me what you know, and I promise to mend you each time you require it."

[eclipseiz]

Twin Thrones

pairing- caracalla x fem! oc x geta

(♡ synopsis)- calista amulis was determined to get her brother back, no matter the cost. even if that means she had to cozy up with the emperor's to do it.

part 1 of ?

please note...

✧ this is set PRE gladiator 2 as the story progresses it might dabble in the beginning but that's about it.

✧caracalla will not have syphilis in this story, he'll just be a crazy freak.

✧this story is gonna be dirty and raw (lol) so 18+

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

Calista Amulis was set on saving her brother, Caius from Rome the moment she had heard he’d been sold to them.

The sun beat down relentlessly as she leapt from the boat, the heat biting into her skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire that fueled her every movement. She darted away, her heart pounding with urgency, desperate to stay ahead of the soldier she had seduced only hours before for the free ride to Rome. She had played her part well, weaving the web of deception so carefully. She stumbled upon a young woman walking with a basket filled with what looked like bread, “Pardon me!” she called out making the woman turn around

“Yes?” the woman raised an eyebrow

Calista looked around and leaned in closer, “Do you know who I can talk to in regards to the Gladiators?”

She seemed to think for a moment before answering, “Macrinus would be your gentleman. He buys them up the moment they touch Roman soil. If I were to guess I'd say he's in his office near the Gladiators cells just down there.” she pointed down a dusty stairway to the right of the Colosseum.

With a quick ‘thank you’ Calista began down the path coming across a bustling corridor with training men she assumed to be the gladiators and guards. “What's your business here girl?” a bald man walked over to her.

“I'm looking for a man named Macrinus, is he here?” she asked folding her hands together

He grunted and began walking, commanding her to follow him with a wave of his hand. She moved with him until they stood in front of an archway, “Sire this girl here has a few words for you.”

Calista stepped into the room and watched as Macrinus gave her a once over, “Thank you Viggo you may return to the floor.” After the guard had retreated, Macrinus leaned back and clasped his hands together, “Well why have you come to see me…?” he requested her name.

She moved to sit at a chair in front of the desk, “Calista. My brother was sold to you after our city was attacked and I would like for you to release him. I'll give you anything you require.” 

Macrinus tilted his head before letting out a laugh, “Silly girl, who knows if your brother is still alive.”

“Caius. His name is Caius.” she urged

The man thought for a moment, “Ah yes ‘Cyclops’. Quite the fighter…managed to lose his eye during his first fight here.”

Her face flashed with worry, “He’s still standing then?”

“For now.” Macrinus answered with a shrug. He got up from his seat over to where he had a glass of wine, “I know what you can do for me.”

Calista straightened her posture and put her confident mask in place, “Anything.”

The older man hummed, “I'm sure you’ve heard of the emperors Geta and Caracalla from wherever you have come from?” 

“The twin tyrants?” 

His lips twitched, “Correct. I want to take them down and I had no way of doing so until now. You are a pretty girl, Calista, just their type…”

She furrowed her brows, “I am not following.”

“The emperors are young fragile men. Just the kind who can be turned agaisnt each other when it comes to a young beautiful woman.” he handed her a cup half full of the alcohol.

She swirled the liquid in the cup, “You want me to seduce them? Both of them? How do you suppose I got close enough to do that?” 

“I can handle that without fretting. Though you will need to wear something of more taste.” he gestured to her raggedy dress which she had been wearing for days.

Calista stood, setting the cup back down, “And after I somehow manage to pin them against one another, what after?”

Marcinus took the girl's face in his hands, “I'll take over from there. You'll find I can be very persuasive.”

She scoffed, “And you'll let my brother go?”

He gives her a pat on the cheeks before backing away, “If all goes to plan then yes. Caius will be freed.”

“And if it doesn't?” she anxiously questioned

“Then you'll most likely die at the hands of the emperors.” he shrugged like it was nothing.

Calista let out a breath of air before slowly nodding, “Fine I'll do it.”

“Wonderful!” Macrinus beamed, his smile wide and full of triumph, as though he'd just secured a victory in a game of great importance. “I can arrange for you to meet them as soon as tomorrow. But first, let me tell you a little about them.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping on the edge of his desk as he considered the task at hand. “Geta is the older twin,” he began, his tone steady and assured. “He’s the one I consider the true leader. Handles most of the imperial duties, keeps things running smoothly. He's a sharp, methodical person who expects loyalty, and demands it. He’s the one you’ll have to watch closely.” Macrinus paused, rocking back slightly, as though trying to find the right words for the next part. "Caracalla, on the other hand..." He shook his head, a flicker of something between amusement and disbelief crossing his face. "Crazy, to put it lightly. He's unpredictable, impulsive and makes decisions on a whim, often with disastrous results. He'll be the easy one to handle, no doubt. But it’s Geta you need to worry about." He sat forward, his gaze sharpening. "Geta is the real challenge. If you can get to him, take him down, the rest will fall into place.”

She regarded Macrinus for a moment, her expression calm but calculating. "I see," she said slowly, her voice smooth and confident.

Macrinus tipped his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll have my servant prepare your bath, clothes, everything. If all goes well with the twins tomorrow, they'll likely request a room for you at their palace."

She blinked, a furrow of confusion crossing her brow. "Wait, hold on," she said, her voice calm but edged with uncertainty. "Just like that? They’ll let me in? You make it sound almost too easy."

“It’s not as difficult as you’re making it sound,” he said, his tone calm and reassuring. “The twins are accustomed to intrigue and manipulation, but they both believe in appearances. A beautiful, well-dressed woman appearing as if by chance? They’ll think nothing of it. The way you present yourself will make all the difference.” He paused, watching her carefully. “Don’t overthink it. If you act confident, poised, and play to their egos, they’ll let you in without a second thought.

She chuckled sarcastically, the tension in her expression easing for a moment. "Let's hope I'm as good of an actor as I've been told then." Her voice was dry, but there was a flicker of determination beneath it.

“Cordelia!” Macrinus called for his servant. “I'll have her get you cleaned up. Get a good night's rest and get ready for tomorrow.”

“If sleep can even call upon me.” With that, she exited, the weight of what was to come settling on her shoulders. Tomorrow would tell whether the pieces would fall into place or whether she'd be walking into a trap.

_✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩_

check out my masterlist pinned on my profile

[demigoddessqueens]

love n’ lustful kinks

HEADCANONS FOR THE Gladiatorii MEN

PAIRINGS — Gladiators [Lucius, Acacius, Macrinus] & Emperors [Geta, Caracalla] x female reader

Tags {super 18+, smut, NSFW}

Masterlist 12

Lucius

Sweet and fiercely protective, he never wants to be separated from you for long, even still nestled inside you when he’s soft

Marcus Acacius

A man ravaged by separation and is very much touch-starved, always has you closely wrapped in his arms to where he can see your face as you cry out his name

Macrinus

A man in charge who makes it known to others, who always has you dressed in finest Roman garments, fond of marking you with lovebites where all can see

Geta

Entirely unpredictable but absolutely adoring towards you, in his own way. Can be rough or gentle between the sheets with you

Caracalla

A man who lets his frustrations with Rome and his brother melt away when he’s with you,Mrs you on top or pinned beneath him as he fucks through the stress

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Aqua Thermae

Also on AO3

Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!

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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.

Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…

He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.

Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.

Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.

But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.

“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.

You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”

He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”

“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.

He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.

“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.

You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes. 

“By the likes of who?” He asked.

“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”

“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”

You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”

“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”

“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone. 

He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.

For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.

“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.

“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.

You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire. 

Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along. 

“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.

You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.

If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.

“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”

You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”

You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.

He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.

You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase. 

He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along. 

A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.

Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.

“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.

“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”

He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip. 

“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”

You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.

He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too. 

“Shall we put you to the test?”

He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.

He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.

Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.

“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.

A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.

“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.

You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.

“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”

He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you. 

Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.

But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.

His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements. 

As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock. 

Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily. 

“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.

You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse. 

“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression. 

“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”

You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”

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[multific]

The City of Rome at Your Feet

Emperor Geta x Reader

Warnings: hint of insanity (a lot), spoilers for the movie, blood, soft mention of smut

Summary: It was always about the pleasures of the body. But your soul was happiest just around him.

Two souls have never been more intervened.

It was almost frightening.

How can two people be meant for each other so much?

They weren’t much different. Both wicked in their own ways.

Geta being the loud Emperor, while you remained the quiet Empress.

Same temper, same goals and the same love for violence.

You just expressed yourself differently.

You being a lady, were elegant and enticing.

Your marriage was only a wish. A wish which came true.

You prayed to the Gods, hoping for a husband who is just like you.

And you met the Emperors.

Caracalla enjoyed your wit and even if you weren't blood related, called you sister. But Geta enjoyed you as a woman and ordered you to marry him.

You had no choice but to accept.

You never expected for your marriage to turn into such greatness.

It was a marriage filled with fire and blood.

A love filled with passion and power.

And each night, not only your bodies but your souls also melted into one.

You noticed as time kept going on, slowly, the lines between you and Geta slowly blurred.

When Acacius returned from yet another victory. You stood by your husband.

"Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, Empress Y/N." he greeted you as you looked at him, his words failed to get to you after that.

All that you remember is heading back into the palace then Acacius' words finally reached your ears.

"My wife has many subjects. She has to feed them." Acacius said and you looked at him.

Caracalla spoke up before you could.

"And you suggest my sister is not doing a proper job of that?" your eyes snapped at Acacius, who looked at you with regret in his eyes.

"I hope your wife will be able to come and join us for the games tomorrow. I appreciate she is busy with her... subjects, but I don't see why she won't be able to join us."

Caracalla laughed and your eyes never moved from Marcus instead, you took a step closer to him.

"In case you forgot who you were talking to, Marcus." you finished and raised your cup. The man nodded.

---

You enjoyed Gladiator games as much as the next person.

Watching men fight for honour and freedom. It was truly magneficent.

Marcus and his wife were also present after Marcus' lovely speech, you felt a dark presence.

The row behind you were making plans.

But you were a step ahead. Watching Lucilla look at the new Gladiator, Hanno.

You tilted your head and smirked.

You will have some fun with those three.

Your husband squeezes your hand as you turned and smiled at him.

Later that evening, you sent word, asking a guard to report to you as soon as someone visits the new Gladiator.

And someone did.

Lucilla.

You smiled.

"My Love! So happy today?"

"Of course I am. I just found out something very interesting."

"Dare to share?" he grabbed your waist and pulled you close.

"Maybe later, once I have it all laid out."

"I would like to lay you out right now." he moved his head into your neck and started biting your neck.

---

Your husband was yelling, you looked at the traitors in front of you.

"Torture me, but do not lecture me." you smiled at Marcus' words.

"You two are truly stupid." you spoke up and everyone in the room looked at you. "You thought you could save him. Your beloved son. Lucius? Is that his name? You are truly foolish."

"What are you talking about?" asked Lucilla.

"He's dead. Killed him myself." you watched as both looked at you in disbelief.

Then a guard walked out with a head on a plate.

"The same fate Macrinus wished for my husband." You turned to the man sitting on the bench while Lucilla broke down and Marcus moved. "Silly man." with one movement you stepped out of the way as the guards brought him to the floor.

"I wonder how the people of Rome will think of their beloved General once they learn how he attached their Empress. In her sleep none the less. Snuck in and tried to kill her. Sent by his wife, who wished to rule."

"You-" but Marcus couldn't finish his sentence as he was dragged away along with his wife and Macrinus.

"Sister, you are something else truly!" Caracalla laughed and you grabbed a knife and a silver plate, looking at yourself, you cut along your neck. "Genius!" Caracalla continued.

"Why did you have to do that?" Geta rushed over to you, worried as he put his hand on your bleeding neck.

"Proof to the people of my attack. Oh, Geta I was so worried! He came out of nowhere! Hiding in the silk curtains, he told me Lucilla wanted to take my place! I was so scared." your eyes were shiny with tears as Geta shook his head and looked at you.

Caracalla left moments before, laughing still.

Geta watched you and he let out a long sigh. "How did you know?"

"Lucilla was so obvious I'm surprised not everyone noticed. As for Macrinus... I never liked him."

Geta let out a laugh, this is when the healer arrived to check out your neck and put bandages on it.

The next day, you watched Marcus fight and fail.

You managed to put on the show of a life time with your injury, the people of Rome had no reason not to believe you.

All they saw is a hurt poor woman, their Empress.

This not only earned you but also the Emperors sympathy as everyone chanted for Acacius' death.

You felt your husband move his arms around you, pulling you close.

Rome was yours.

Geta was yours and you were only his.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[asvtrials]

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

Emperor Geta x fem!reader, minors dni!

summary: Emperor Geta was a selfish lover. He expected you to give him everything, every thread of your being, body, and soul. Yet he refused to do the same. Why would he? He was the Emperor and you were nothing but his concubine, not too long ago you were a common whore that he just happen to take a liking to, just a vessel for his satisfaction. So why was his mind suddenly screaming for him to kneel before you, to let your thighs straddle his face until he suffocates? warnings/tags: smut, mention of an orgy in the beginning, mention of exhibitionism, generally ancient Rome things, Emperor Geta tries to act unbothered but is smitten for his concubine, facesitting, oral (f! receiving), p in v, kind of rough, sub/dom dynamics (obviously), implied abuse, potentially out of character, not accurate to the Gladiator franchise...

a/n: This man is consuming my thoughts. This is me basically pushing my pussy drunk Geta agenda. I love the idea of Emperor Geta being arrogant and selfish but caving at the idea of hearing her scream and moan as loudly as that woman. 'Mae Columba' means my dove, 'Corculum' means sweetheart. Also, this is my first time writing this man

tags: @teechallas-blog @ladynoonwraith @quuinyoung @ghostinhours @slasherflickchick @marn13s-vilewhispers @munsongirl48 @getas-empress @hillarymurray4 @cleo-2345 @lookingformuses @meganfoxismywife @claa-01 @funsquadgoalzz-blog w/c: 3.3k English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistakes I make. I tried present tense for the first time.

── ୨ৎ

Your thin tunic provides you with little to no warmth, yet you weren't cold even on this chilly night.

Your Emperor's hand runs up and down your right side, his fingers keep grazing your nipple but he is too focused on conversing with Macrinus to notice the impact of his action.

Your eyes wander around the room, from the people who drank, smoked, and laughed, too gone to do anything other than that, to the numerous naked, sweaty bodies intertwined with each other in the most intimate way that was humanly possible.

Yet there was nothing intimate about what you observe. It was primal and carnal, most of them didn't even look like people anymore, the scene becoming too animalistic and raw.

These types of gatherings were rather common in the Palatine and you have gotten used to settings like this one. But this time you couldn't take your eyes off of two people. Two prostitutes amongst the crowd of moving bodies caught your attention.

A woman sitting on top of a man, on his face… The expression of pure bliss she had looks like it was taken out of a vulgar painting, a carefully crafted sculpture depicting the most euphoric moment of one's life. The man's tongue works meticulously on the woman’s cunt making her scream and moan like she was touched by the god's themselves.

The sight was enough for your breath to get caught in your throat. 

That made Emperor Geta turn with a frown, some wine dripping from his full lips. You don’t notice that his eyes travel the path of your gaze, focusing on the same pair as you.

You snap back to reality when his hand gripped your thigh. If you weren't used to his rough touches you would yelp in pain.

When you meet his eyes, there's something behind them that makes you pause. Without a second glance, he turns back to his conversation, leaving you confused. But you don’t miss the way his hand slides further between your legs, almost teasingly.

It wasn't unusual for him to touch you in front of everyone, be it in these types of events or when the gladiator fights bored him to the point where he ordered you to get on your knees and ‘entertain’ him yourself.

But this time, his thumb merely grazes the thin fabric of your tunic between your legs as his hands grip your exposed thigh. Possessively.

Your mind started to race. Did you anger him? Was he upset?

You are in a room filled with naked bodies fucking each other like animals and it never angered him before when you watched. Sometimes you would even comment how ‘sloppy’ their technique was and he would chuckle. So what happened now?

You lean on his side, sliding your hand to his cheek, caressing it gently. He doesn’t react but he doesn’t push you away either. That feels like a win, an opening.

After being his concubine for so long you learned how to behave around him, how to slither your way out of trouble in case you had upset him.

A little touch here, a kiss there, a plea for forgiveness honeyed with praises about how good he is to you along with some dick sucking usually does the trick.

Geta was an emperor but he was also a man with a very big ego. You quickly understood that as much as it is a nuisance it could also become an advantage.

By the time you followed him to his chambers, it was well past midnight.

He had made it a habit to share a bed with you, not even the guards looked surprised anymore.

He walks inside the moment the guards open the heavy doors. He reaches for his golden belt with a heavy sigh but you quickly stop him. “Let me, my Emperor.” You speak, your voice soft. You quickly approach him and meet his stern gaze, waiting for his approval.

Geta lets go of the belt, letting his arms fall to his sides. He looks spent and tired from the long day but you could sense something else frustrating him.

Carefully, you undo his belt, feeling his shoulders relax at the loss of the heavy material. Your eyes travel up his body before finally meeting his gaze through your lashes but you are met with the same cold look from before. 

You take a step back to settle the belt on the table. You aren’t sure if you should approach him again. You expected him to kiss you, to touch you while you were so close but he didn't do either. He just watched you with a raised brow and gritted teeth.

You avert your gaze, focusing on the detailed carvings of the table ignoring the fact that you had seen it a million times before.

You hear his sandals brush against the marble floor, making you shiver. You weren't sure what to expect, he hasn't looked this displeased with you in a long while.

“Mae Columba” ‘My dove’ he says, his voice barely above a whisper but it still held the authority of an Emperor. “Do you know why you wear such lavish cloths?” He asks, not expecting you to answer before continuing, his voice dropping “Why do you smell as good as you smell? Why do golden jewels hang from your ears and wrap around your wrists? Why you aren't passed around my soldiers like a common whore?” 

He was right behind you now, his arms coming to cage you between him and the table. 

His harsh words forced tears to collect on your lash line. You took a deep breath but your voice still quivered as you spoke. “Because you're the Emperor…”

“Because I'm the Emperor.” He repeats softly against your ear, yet there is no softness in his tone. “Then why do you wish for me to become someone else?” 

“I don—” 

“Lies!” He shouts, making you flinch away.

You don't dare to face him, remaining turned to him as his hands start to wander down your sides. “I saw how you looked at those filthy commoners…you were entranced, my dove” 

“My Emperor I—” 

“Have I not done enough for you?” He whispered, but his quiet tone gave you no comfort. His hands moved to your clothed chest, squeezing your breasts mercilessly.

A small whine escapes your lips, your back arching against him. “You gave me everything, my Emperor.” You manage to say through rugged breaths.

He hums pleased. “Clearly not enough since you wish to see me between your legs like a filthy whore.” He murmurs against your ear.

“No!” You yelp, grabbing his forearms after he squeezes your breasts particularly hard. 

Your thighs meet in an attempt to soothe the aching between your legs. “I promise.”

“You promise?” He asks, his tone dripping with disbelief and mockery. 

“Yes! I promise.” You reply quickly, desperation seeping out of your words.

“On the bed.” he commands lowly and you comply without words.

The bed was thrice the size of the bed you used to sleep in, soft with satin sheets and numerous pillows. A bed that an emperor deserved. You weren't sure if you deserved it, yet here you were, lying on the Emperor's sheets like you did many other times.

He looms over your lying figure eyes rolling down every curve of your body like a wolf eyeing a little lamb. His favorite little lamb. 

The one that he never feasts upon but rather chases around until the poor thing is spent and exhausted and pliant for him to bite all he wants.

Geta’s hands find your ankles and he pulls you to him, earning a surprised yelp from you. He crawls to you, entrapping you between his arms once again.

He melts against your mouth, lips moving harshly against yours, refusing to give you a second to breathe. You cry loudly when his teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“My Emperor” you moan against his rough endeavors but he doesn’t stop, you aren’t sure if he even heard you. He was too busy squeezing your already bruising flesh, not even bothering to remove your tunic.

Red liquid escapes from the wound that Geta so eagerly opened. The metallic taste travels to your mouth but he doesn’t seem to mind, and as much as it scares you, neither do you. Instead, you claw at his back breathlessly repeating your words “My Emperor…Let me show you my devotion.”

Geta studies you, his big eyes making him look almost innocent under the dim candlelight.

His lips open to speak his mind, your spit and blood coating them but instead of speaking, he gently caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the blood.

What are these thoughts? These foolish ideas that plague his mind? His gaze couldn’t deter from your tearful eyes as he let his thumb run down your chin, the faint color of the blood following along.

You were so easy to break, to tear apart and carve as you pleased. He always did just that.

Yet you always came back.

You didn’t have a choice, he wasn’t foolish enough to forget that. But still, you looked at him with a particular dedication that Gate couldn’t quite comprehend. 

Basically, involuntarily he whispers, letting his palm rest on the side of your face “You’ve proven your devotion, corculum. You’ve been so good…” Geta leans closer, his nose pressing your cheek. He breathes in your scent, fighting the urge to squeeze your face with his fingers.

Your breath hitches when he pushes his thumb past your inviting lips and he feels a moan threaten to spill when you sucked on his digit immediately. He couldn’t uncover any thoughts behind your eyes, only lust. Lust for him. Just like he lusted you.

Why is his breath coming out so short, why is his heart threatening to jump from his chest and into your arms? He isn’t even inside you yet and he feels like he can’t think properly.

You weren’t quiet during your shared activities but Geta was always too focused on his own selfish pleasure, rarely caring about yours.

But right now he feels the inexplicable urge to make you scream his name, to make everyone in the palace know, everyone in Rome, the urge to get on his knees and worship you just to get the blessing of your sounds in return.

Oh, you were sent by Venus herself, there was no doubt. There was no other explanation for his crazed thoughts.

The whine that he brings from you when he pulls his hand away burns something deep in his chest. He quickly yanks at his clothes, uncovering his naked, toned body.

Your eyes don’t dare to travel down but you find yourself on your fours, crawling to him. You press your lips to his stomach, tracing his toned body with your lips and tongue softly, teasingly.

A low growl leaves Geta from deep within his throat as he runs his hand through your hair, nearly gently before he grips your locks. He pulls your head back forcing your eyes to meet his, the sudden harshness causing you to freeze.

“You are an enchantress, aren’t you? You have turned me into a madman.” He mutters softly, his tone almost despairing as his blunt nails massage your scalp.

Looking up at him through your lashes you blink, unsure of what to say. Was this an indictment? It sounded more like a statement.

“I wouldn’t do such a thing, my Emperor.” You say softly.

He hums quietly, eyes falling to your legs and he has to swallow hard.

He has seen you like this so many times, and yet you left him speechless every time. From the first time he had bed you, you had left him speechless. Put a spell on him the moment he pushed his cock inside your warm, dripping cunt.

His mind told him to pound you against the mattress as hard as he could, so that every time your core throbbed tomorrow you would remember how vile it was for you to imagine him, your Emperor, between your thighs.

But his body betrayed him. He leans in, his bottom lip grazing your inner thigh.

“I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me, mae columba” He whispers, so quietly that you could miss it if your senses weren’t so heightened.

He released a quivering breath before pressing his lips on your skin. You gasp at the action, gripping the smooth sheets. The feeling of your flushed skin against his lips was exhilarating, it was the beginning of something that he wasn’t sure he could control. 

Without a second thought, his mouth starts to bruise your thighs fervently, his teeth plunging into your flesh like you were his last meal before the guillotine.

Your moans and cries fill the room and Geta’s heart as he continues to mark your thighs, his intensity matching a starved wolf.

He wanted more. He was insatiable, he was always insatiable.

With a swift movement, he flips the both of you. You yelp in surprise, as you land on his chest, your legs spread apart. 

His head finds the soft mattress but he wouldn’t care even if it was the hard floor. All he could focus on was your clothed core, inches away from his face.

“My Emperor!” You begin. You weren’t sure what to say, how are you even supposed to react to such a scene?

Rome’s Emperor gazing at you between your thighs, looking as famished as ever.

“Quiet.” He growls, his arms coming to wrap around your thighs. His hands slowly travel up your body, dragging your tunic with his fingers revealing more of your skin.

Your naked cunt was inches away from his face, his breath hitting your soaked folds sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes couldn’t leave your core, mouth watering at the sight. Impatient, you peel off the dress, revealing your naked body.

It was a pattern whenever you were around him. But this time it didn’t make your cheeks burn about being so vulnerable before his ravenous gaze. On the contrary, it made your chest flutter with satisfaction as you lay on top of one of Rome’s brutal Emperors.

No warning was given to you before he harshly pulled you down to him. His tongue lays flat against your pussy, emitting a desperate sound from you. Soon enough he was lost in the feeling of your wetness.  There was no point in fighting your spell anymore, he was already hypnotized. 

Your eyes can’t leave his face. The way he loses himself so eagerly forces your breath to become shallow and desparate.

His tongue laps on your cunt sloppily, and your juices run down his chin though he never wavers, not even for a second. His mouth worked against your folds like he wanted to consume you whole, to drain you of your essence.

“Gods!” You moan loudly, throwing your head back. “My Emperor!” You cry out.

He whimpers against your pussy, he fucking whimpers. You aren’t sure if you can hold on much longer after that. It seems like any fear or shame you had abandoned your body because you start to rock your hips against his face, his nose brushing against clit with every move.

“I can’t take it anymore, my Emperor—” you gasp, your body trembling uncontrollably.

He grabs your waist, his nails digging into your skin possesively. He pulls you even closer to him, if that is even possible, his tongue running over your folds callously.

Your climax came to you like a violent wave, your body shakes violently after your release. Geta doesn’t stop though, his tongue collecting your fluids even if you jolted and whined.

He only stopped when he had nothing else to take. Like always.

You fall to the side, your mouth agape as you pant frenziedly. Geta isn’t looking any better, his slick-covered lips are parted slightly and his chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Gods…” You breathe out.

Geta finally finds his strength again, moving to position himself above you. His burning body pressed against your side, his lips brushing your temple. “Where the gods between your legs, corculum?”

“That’s what it felt like” You whisper and he fought the urge to smirk. 

“Turn around.” He orders lowly, the playfulness draining from his voice.

With all the strength left in you, you comply, turning around to lie on your chest. You gasp when the Emperor effortlessly lifts your thighs off the mattress. 

You whine at the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your dripping cunt. 

With one forceful push he’s inside your tight walls and you scream. Your nails rake at the satin sheets as he grunts at the warmness that envelops his cock. “You always feel so good, my dove. Like you were made for me” He groans, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“P-perhaps I was” You moan, the sound muffled by the sheets, your eyes nearly rolling back.

He sneers lowly. “Always know just what to say. How to bewitch me with your words…”

You yelp when you feel his hand clutch your jaw and pull you backward. Your back slams against his hard chest. He draws his hips back making you whine at the feeling of his dick slipping away before slamming it back inside. He did it again and again until you were crying and clawing at his hand.

“My Emperor!” You cry out and if it wasn’t for his strong hands you would’ve fallen forward.

His cock hits you so deep, so good you can’t help the tears that run down your flushed cheeks and the lewd cries that fall from your lips still they aren’t nearly as lewd as the wet, sloppy sounds that follow after every intense thrust.

His own grunts are so loud against your ear that you swear you can come from the sounds he’s making alone. It was never this intimate with Geta, so close. He usually pushes your head against the pillows and fucks you into the mattress like an animal. You rarely see his face or hear his sounds other than the harsh words he spews at you.

Your back arches at the harshness of his thrusts, and your head falls on his shoulder. His hand slides down to your core. You feel his smirk against your ear when he flicks your clit and you flinch.

“Geta!” You scream his name as you come for a second time for the night, your voice hoarse from all the screaming.

If your brain wasn't mushed from pleasure you would slap a hand over your mouth, bracing yourself for his palm landing on your cheek.

He grabs your face and turns your head to face him. The moment your eyes meet you know there won’t be any repercussions for your defiance. His pupils are so blown to the point where you couldn’t locate the light brown of his iris. He pulls you for a heated kiss and with one last, mind-numbing thurst he spills his seed deep inside you.

He falls forward and pulls you with him. You fall on all your fours, his chest falling flush on your back. You whimper when his cock moves inside your overstimulated pussy with the movement.

Geta’s breath was hot against your shoulder and his hands squeezed your waist occasionally, seemingly without noticing.

“My Emperor,” You breathed out. “Forgiv—”

“Quiet.” He rasped, silencing you immediately.

He threw the both of you to the side, pulling you closer to him by the waist.

That day Geta, with his dick deep inside you, realized two things. That you have probably enchanted him and that he didn’t care one bit. 

Because if being bewitched meant that he would spend his living days between your legs, getting drunk on you, then he would gladly do it.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XV. The Plan (+18, Smut, MDNI)

“Parcere proditori, proditio est innocenti.”

To spare the traitor is to betray the innocent.

Marcus, after leaving you in the poorhouse, made his way to Palatine Hill. He had a bad feeling about it and it was getting worse. It was tough for him to leave you each time. However, today's council was of greater importance than any that had preceded it. It might be the case that this could alter the course of Rome and his own fate.

He got the latest update from his soldiers before heading into the Domus Severiana. He had trust in the Praetorian guards at the gate and those in the courtyard, but with Geta's safety at stake, he couldn't be sure. Octavius met him in the courtyard and followed him into the armoury to help him put on his armour. The next step was to get Geta to the Curia Julia safely. He must do this on his own, with his most trusted soldiers. As a Roman general, Marcus was an expert in a variety of military strategies and tactics, with a particular focus on offensive operations. It was for this reason that he maintained a considerable military presence on the Field of Mars, prepared for any eventuality. They were ready to act on his orders. He had invested a great deal of time and effort in training them, with the aim of making them all well-raised soldiers and ensuring they were prepared to take action should the need arise. He was certain that he would eventually have to deal with the Praetorian Guard. However, since you came into his life, his priorities have shifted somewhat. He was no longer seeking to overthrow the Emperor, but rather to assist him in becoming a capable leader for Rome. Perhaps he was reluctant to witness further unrest and conflict in the city. He was willing to do whatever he could to ensure a brighter future for his own and for all Roman children.

Marcus put on his armour and armed himself with his sword before heading to the courtyard with Octavius. Geta and his mother, Julia, were there, too, with a few guards awaiting him. As soon as Geta saw them, he walked toward them.

"Acacius, where's my sister? Why didn't you bring her with you?" he asked, a little louder than necessary.

"She's somewhere safe, so there's no need to worry."

"That's nonsense! You should have brought her here with you. I don't think it's a good idea for her to stay outside the palace right now."

Marcus gave him a stern look. "So you're the one who ordered the guards to look for her everywhere?"

"Yes, I wasn't sure how Macrinus would take the council's urgent decision, so I thought maybe I could bring her here this way."

Marcus strode over to him, looking angry, which made Geta tense up.

"You knew she was with me."

"But I didn't know where you were, so I had to get them to look for you both. Roughly half of the guards were still on his side. I just wanted to make sure that my guard could find you before anyone else did."

Marcus tried to calm down, taking a deep breath. "This shows that the palace isn't a safe place either. Fortunately, she's safe now, my men are protecting her," he said then. “May I ask how the Council decided to meet today?” His eyes shifted to Julia, but she averted her gaze.

"It is difficult to convey the extent of my mother's efforts, but we have now gained the upper hand in the council," he said, winking at her. “It was unanimously agreed that an urgent meeting should be convened, today.”

Marcus was not interested in the specifics of her success. “I see.” He murmured.

“So let's proceed with the next steps and conclude this, shall we?”

Marcus nodded. "Indeed."

By noon, Geta and Julia's carriage had arrived at the Roman Forum. As they made their way through the streets, they were accompanied by other soldiers and guards who appeared to be loyal to Geta for the time being. The members of the Senate were already assembled in the Curia Julia. While Geta and Julia proceeded up the stairs, Marcus followed at a distance, taking care to observe his surroundings. However, the issue was not external, but rather within the Council chamber itself. Some of the Council members were absent, and it was not difficult to discern which ones. The other members expressed their concerns about their absence, and Geta was insistent on commencing the session. However, this was contrary to the law. Therefore, they decided to wait, but this was about to exacerbate the situation further. Marcus was concerned that this endless waiting time might be a sign of something bad.

‘What is this place? Where are you taking me?’ you asked Macrinus. You followed him through narrow streets and then through a tunneled passage into a large building.

"You will see it soon enough, my lady." He replied confidently.

You didn't want to come to this strange place with that bastard, but you had no choice. He had his plans for today, no doubt about it. You soon passed through the stone walls that resembled those under the Colosseum and observed a group of men. They were all members of the Senate, and you knew them at once by their white togas.

"What's the meaning of this?" Your voice was loud.

Macrinus ignored you, and the members of the Senate looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"You really brought her," said one of them.

"I always get what I want, consul. You should have known this by now." Macrinus grinned then clasped his hands. "Now that we have the princess, we shall move on to the next stage."

"Consul Macrinus, I'm not entirely convinced if that's the best course of action. I think it is unwise to abduct General Acasius' wife, the princess, and force them to cooperate." One of them said.

"Council must have met by now. Geta's guards will be looking for us."

"And do not forget the Acacius's soldiers!"

"Cease the complaining!" Macrinus yelled at them. "Why can't you see the opportunity that I see? They can't start the session without us, yet they can't make a decision either. And as for Geta, he is not like Caracalla." He turned towards you. "He values his sister more than you realise.” Then looked at them once again. "So, Acacius will bring us Geta with his own hands and hand him over, and I will kill him. This will make my path to the throne. Then we'll all win. See? It's straightforward. There's no need to complain like old ladies, is there?”

"You'll all be punished for this!" You shouted. “You'll lose your statues, your title, everything you have! Release me at once, I'm warning you!"

The consuls exchanged glances, and Macrinus became visibly upset and approached and grabbed your arm.

"I see you've been very talkative since I last saw you, Aurelia. However, you're wasting your breath. I'll take your brother's life eventually and become an emperor.”

"It will never happen!" You barked. He touched your hair, and you turned your head to the other side in disgust. "You will witness it. I will make sure of that." He looked at the guards. "Take the princess away and lock her up."

"Let go of me!" You resisted, struggling. But the guards ignored you.

It didn't seem like an easy situation to get out of this time. Your chest tightened as you considered the possibility that he might win. If that were to happen, it would undoubtedly mean losing everything. It would be disastrous.

You descended the stone stairs and were taken aback by what you saw. There were cells with iron bars, like a dungeon. You stopped and looked at the guards.

“Please keep walking, my lady.” His tone was stern.

When you refused, the guards looked at each other and one of them grabbed your arm.

"'Let go of my arm!" You yelled, trying to fight back but to no avail. The other one opened the door to one of the cells and they forced you inside.

"I am your princess! You can't do this! Can't you hear me?"

They kept ignoring you, and locked the cell. You gripped the bars.

"Please, don't do this, let me out! Please!" Your voice was pleading this time, but it seemed to have no effect on them. One of them stood by the bars and the other near the stairs. You gave up begging, turned your back on them, and looked into the cell. It was almost the filthiest place you had ever been. The stone walls looked like weathered rock. The floor was dirty, dusty and filthy. You were so tired, that your feet were about to betray you, but you had no intention of sitting down or leaning against the wall, so you decided to cross your arms and just wait. You had never felt so helpless, not even when you were running away from Flavius in the woods. There was nothing more horrible than having your freedom taken away, the feeling of being trapped made your chest ache.

Before long, you heard footsteps echoing through the hall. You looked in that direction and saw the guards nodding to Macrinus. He had his usual self-assured look on his face, bowing respectfully to you as if he had done nothing wrong.

You went over to the iron bars. “Get me out of here at once!’

He gave a little smirk. “I'm really sorry about the poor facilities, my lady, but I am a little unsure that you'd behave yourself. After all, you have a very stubborn and determined temperament.”

You pursed your lips. “What's this place anyway? What gives you the right to lock me in here?”

Macrinus put his hands on the iron bars and observed as if he were seeing them for the first time. “This is where the gladiators stay. They get their first training at this school before heading to the Colosseum."

"Do I look like a gladiator to you?"

Macrinus laughed. "Of course not, my lady. Let's just say I'm playing it safe."

"Locking me up won't convince me of anything."

"Is that so? Hmm, maybe not you, but I think I could easily persuade your brother or your husband. They both care a lot about you after all."

You took a step towards him. "What exactly are you planning? As soon as you ascend to the throne, you will exile my husband, declare our marriage null and void, and force me to marry you?”

“More or less, yes.”

"That's not going to happen! I'm never going to marry you, not in this life, or the next!" Your voice bounced off the cold stone walls with a ringing sound.

Macrinus seemed serious this time. "Then you'll be stuck under home detention for the rest of your life. There won't be a general husband coming to your rescue, nor a foolish brother in hopeless in love with you either."

"Shut your damn mouth!" Your body was shaking with anger.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Aurelia. Think carefully. Once Geta's gone, I'll be the new emperor. And then you'll do what I want." Macrinus put his hands on the bars just above yours. "'I thought it would be better to exile Acacius for his heroism, so that would not provoke a public outrage, but if you try my patience and resist, I will make you watch him die in the Colosseum. I swear I will."

You swallowed, even the thought was enough to make your heart ache. "I am carrying his child, how can you be so heartless, so damned?”

"A child?” He laughed. “As a medicus I'm sure you can find ways to get rid of that.”

"Damn you!" You reached through the bars to hit him in the face, but he grabbed your hand. He made you put your hand on his collar. There was a marking on his chest.

"Take a look at this! Do you know what this is? It's your father's mark!"

You observed the mark. "Were you a slave?"

Macrinus released your hand and you pulled it back.

"I was, during your father's time, but I managed to get into the senate. He was a strong and powerful man, your father. A soldier, a dictator, and a tough opponent. I learned a lot from him, Aurelia. But I still couldn't gain his trust, no matter how hard I tried. Fortunately, his sons weren't like him."  He pointed his finger at you. "You're more like your father than they are. I realised the first time I saw you in Egypt. Look, no matter how much you refuse, you can't escape what's coming. I will get what I deserve."

"No, that will never happen. You will lose. No one will remember you."

This time he sounded angry. "I made you a princess! You got your title back thanks to me! How about a little gratitude?”

"I was planning to come here anyway. Vicius and I had been planning to travel to Rome together to find my true family. If circumstances had been different the rebellion hadn't broken out, and the Roman soldiers hadn't come to put it down. That night..." You took a moment to collect your thoughts. Despite the pain that these memories still evoke, you have learned to embrace them because they have led you to meet Marcus. "He had already told me everything, except who my father was. We were going to open the letter together as soon as we arrived in Rome. You only hastened the process.”

"Vicius," he said, sounding annoyed. He then took a deep breath. "I've had some success in this process, but also had a few failures, and that man is one of them. If he'd handed you over to me then, before Geta and Caracalla ascended the throne, things might be different now."

His disrespect for Vicius was unacceptable and made you even angrier.

"What about Gaius? Isn't he also a great failure of yours?"

"Well, not entirely. If he hadn't taken your father's letter to him as an offer to marry you, who knows, he might still be alive now. He was the one who caused his own death. It's in my interest for him to die if there's any chance of him ascending to the throne." He smiled, but then his face turned angry again. "But he's not the biggest failure or obstacle." He said as he approached the bars, his face was close enough to touch the surface of the iron bars. "Acacius. He's the biggest obstacle that needs to be removed from my path, and I'm going to make sure that I do."

You brought your face closer to his. "My husband, Acacius, will be the end of you. You can be sure of that.”

He put a hand to his chin as if he was thinking. "I am doubt about that Aurelia. Because you see, soon, he will be preoccupied with bringing Geta to me. And once he does, I will take your brother's life and that will be the end of your husband as well." He grinned. "My plan is working perfectly and I will get what I want."

"He is not stupid. He will not fall into your trap.”

“He has no choice. He'll do anything to get you back, I know that."

You knew he was right and you hated it.

"Enough talk. Time to take action." He turned towards the guard. "If there's any trouble, kill her."

You swallowed, trying to stay calm. He then bowed his head to you and headed towards the stairs.

As time passed, the atmosphere in the Curia Julia became increasingly tense. Marcus was at breaking point, and Geta was no different. As Octavius rushed into the hall, almost tripping on the stairs, everyone looked at him with curiosity.

"Sir, you need to come outside," he said to Marcus, keeping his voice low.

"Is something wrong?"

Geta stood up and walked towards them.

"What's going on?"

Octavius’ face was grave as he was about to give them bad news. He looked at the councilors and then at his general. "Sir, Macrinus sent a guard to speak with you..." Octavius looked down in distress.

Marcus frowned, wondering if he was about to hear what he feared most.

"What does he want? Speak at once!" Geta shouted.

Julia tried to calm the council members.

"Princess Aurelia..." Octavius exhaled a deep breath. "Macrinus has abducted her-"

Without even thinking, Marcus stormed to the entrance to leave the hall. Geta followed him, but his mother grabbed his arm.

"Your Majesty! You must stay here-"

"You do that!" he said, roughly pulling his arm away from her.

Marcus rushed down the stairs and, noticing the guard Octavius had pointed at, grabbed his sword and held it to the man's throat. The guard let out a little gasp. "Tell me where she is now!' He roared.

All the soldiers and guards tensed and gripped the hilt of their swords.

"General Acacius, Sir Macrinus is waiting for you at his villa." He said, out of breath, struggling to get the words out. "He also said that he wants you to bring Emperor Geta with you."

“How dare he summon me like this?” Geta shouted. "Acacius, round up your men, and let's move to take him out now, shall we?"

The soldiers looked at their general. Seizing the opportunity of Marcus' thoughtful demeanor, Macrinus' guard took a step back.

"Sir Macrinus only wants the general and Emperor Geta." He stated arrogantly. "If you care about the Princess, you'd better do as-”

Suddenly a schwing sound was heard and Octavius's sword severed his jugular, and he collapsed, tumbling down the stairs and staining the marble steps with his blood. They all watched him die with a deadpan expression.

"Why wait? We must leave now Acacius," Geta touched his shoulder.

Marcus shook his head. “No, he'll kill you the moment I take you there, I can't let it.”

"I'm flattered, general, but this is your wife we're talking about, my sister."

Marcus sheathed his sword. "I am aware, but we must act wisely. If we fall into his trap, it will be the end of us all, which is exactly what he wants us to do."

"So we'll just leave Aurelia in his filthy hands?"

Marcus gave him a deadly look. "Don't you dare speak like you care more about my wife than I do!"

"Then act like you do!" Geta barked.

“General Acacius! Emperor Geta!”

They both turned to face the man calling to them. A man in a black cloak, familiar to Marcus, came up the stairs and approached them. The soldiers tensed, but Marcus gestured to them that it was all right.

"Who the hell are you?" Geta asked, squinting at the man.

"I am Lextus, Your Majesty," the man said, bowing. He looked at Marcus and then back at Geta. "I have something very important to tell you, both of you."

"Man of yours?" Geta asked Marcus.

"No, he is a relative of yours, from Leptis Magna, didn't your mother tell you?"

Geta gave him a dirty look.

"Speak up, what's so important?" Marcus asked.

"We've been tracking Macrinus for a while and we know where he is."

"If that's what you wanted to say, you've come in vain," Geta said, pointing to the guard's lifeless body lying at the bottom of the stairs.. "That cunt Macrinus is already waiting for us to go to him."

"It's a trap, he's luring you into it, Your Majesty. The Lady Aurelia is not with him, she is elsewhere," he said, and as soon as he mentioned your name, Marcus and Geta's eyes locked on him. "We know where he's keeping her, that's what I came here to tell you."

Marcus grabbed him by the collar of his cloak. "How do you know? When did you see her? Speak at once!"

"The General asked you a question!" Geta demanded.

Lexus hadn't expected either of them to react this way, he had to take a breath to speak. "Praetorians with Macrinus' lead intercepted Lady Aurelia's carriage in the alleyway. We followed the carriage, which took us straight to Ludus Magnus. We saw Lady Aurelia enter with the guards, and I have men stationed there to keep an eye on things. We are unsure why, but we know some consuls are there."

Geta looked at Marcus. "Why would he take her to the damn gladiator training school? What is he trying to do?"

"Tell me, is Macrinus still there or in his villa?" Marcus demanded.

"He left a few hours ago, we believe he went to there."

"We need to get to Aurelia now!" Geta said.

"The guards will be watching us. If we head there now, they'll inform him. Or even worse, they might hurt her before we get there." Marcus said through clenched teeth.

"What are we going to do then?"

Marcus thought for a moment. He had to think fast and come up with a plan, but he wasn't sure what to do.

It was time to think strategically and take action. As a soldier and general, he was an expert in this. "We need to make some time," he muttered.

"So let's not waste, standing here," Geta whined, adjusting his crown.

Watching him, a plan came to Marcus' mind. "Your Majesty, we must take you to Palatine Hill immediately."

"Are you mad? Macrinus's men are all over the place. Didn't you just say so yourself?”

Marcus exhaled. “That's why we have to leave now. I'm asking you to trust me.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. "In the past, I wouldn't have trusted you, but now I think I do."

"You don't have much choice, after all," Marcus teased as they hurried down the stairs together.

Once Geta was in the carriage, Marcus called Aris over. "Head to the Field of Mars right away and let them know I've ordered the troops to assemble around Macrinus' villa. Try to be as stealthy as you can."

"Yes, sir." He said and quickly walked in the opposite direction.

"The rest of you, come with me," Marcus said. They all nodded and got on their horses.

Geta called out to him as the carriage was moving.  "Acacius, I hope you know what you're doing!"

He still didn't fully trust the other guards accompanying Geta, so he didn't want to tell him his plan yet.

"I need both your patience and your trust, Your Majesty."

"You've got both as long as you save my sister.”

Marcus felt his heart beating faster with worry. He really wanted to come and get you out of there as soon as possible. But he had to think carefully. He knew that if he acted without thinking things through, he might lose you. Besides, he had to be absolutely sure that he got Macrinus this time too.

The guards at Palatine Hill were surprised to see the carriage coming earlier than expected. Geta stepped into the courtyard with Marcus. He tried to take Geta away from the guards, however, two of them came over to them.

"General, we want to help you. We are loyal to the emperor Geta, you can trust us."

Marcus seemed unsure.

"They are in a dilemma because their commander has not yet been chosen, Acacius. Macrinus' side and mine." Geta explained.

"Yes, there are others outside who are on Macrinus' side, sir. But I'm not, and my team here are all loyal to you, highness.”

"You were always so keen to be a Praetorian," Marcus said, looking at the guard. He realised that he was his childhood friend.

"Do you remember me? I thought you might have forgotten." He gave a little smile.

"Yes, you weren't eager to join the army, so I didn't hassle you about it too much."

"I wanted to serve the emperor, General Acacius."

"I see," said Marcus, smiling back.

"I was really proud when I saw you become a general of Rome, you know."

Marcus nodded his thanks.

"That's very touching gentleman, but can you tell us what to do now, our glorious general?" Geta said impatiently.

"Cato!" Marcus called him to his side.

He came running at once. "Sir!"

Marcus put his hand on his shoulder. "We need your help."

Geta frowned. "Isn't that your squire? How can he help us?"

Marcus smiled confidently. "He has the same hair colour and the same size as you, your majesty."

"Excuse me?”

"We're going to confuse them. Could you take off your clothes and give them to Cato?"

Geta opened his eyes wide in surprise. "What did you just say? Tell me you are joking!"

Geta wasn't the only one taken aback. Cato and Octavius exchanged glances, clearly surprised.

Marcus let out a sigh. "He'll take your place, so we won't put you in danger."

"So this is your master plan, Acacius? You seem to have forgotten how clever that cunt is. Sooner or later, he'll figure out that your squire doesn't look handsome as I do." He said smugly. 

"It's not really a concern," Marcus said, grasping Cato's arm. "This buys us some time, at least. Until I get the Aurelia out of there."

They walked together to Geta's chamber. Geta grumbled the whole way but seemed to be convinced at last. Cato looked a bit out of place in the emperor's clothes. He glanced at them hesitantly. Marcus couldn't help but grin when he saw him in Geta's attire. Geta sized him up.

"Ugh, you look like another evil twin of mine! That is all I need!”

"Forgive me, Your Majesty." Cato said, bowing his head.

Marcus held out his hand to Geta. "Your Majesty, can you give me your crown too?"

"Gods above! This is disrespectful and unacceptable, Acacius!"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "It's just a symbol, an item. It has no significance. You don't need the crown to prove that you are an emperor, do you?"

“Huh, you just enjoy lecturing me, don't you?" Geta pursed his lips.

"We're running out of time here."

"Fine!" He gave his crown to him. Cato held his breath as Marcus placed the crown on his head.

"Hmph, if this won't work, I swear on Vesta's fire that I will punish you Acacius."

Marcus smirked in response.

Geta tugged fabric of his gown which made him look like a commoner. '"Whatever, let's get this done as soon as possible and then I shall drink wine until I get drunk so I can forget all about it." He refused to look at their faces as he left his chamber.

As they descended the stairs, Marcus touched Cato on the shoulder. "Keep your face hidden at all costs. Even if they can't see it from a distance, there's still a risk."

"I'll do my best, general."

Marcus tapped his back. "May the Gods be on our side."

And as they approached the entrance to the great courtyard, they put their plan into action.

"Your Majesty, please," Marcus gestured to Geta.

Geta pursed his lips and involuntarily pulled the deep black cloak further up over his head. The gate opened and Marcus approached the carriage with Cato who was in the Emperor's toga, covering his face as naturally as possible. Cato struggled and pretended to resist him. The guards waiting outside, watching them, did not seem to suspect anything. Marcus swiftly pushed Cato into the carriage and told the coachman to start the horses. He then turned to the guards.

"Lead the way!" He said to them. They kicked their horses toward in front of the carriage. Marcus and the others got on their own horses, following the carriage from behind.

The other guards, those who had stayed behind in the palace to protect the real emperor Geta, put on their cloaks over their armour. They were going to take him back to Curia Julia in secret. It was already pretty quiet, as everyone else had left to accompany the false emperor. As per the plan, Marcus must turn his horse around halfway down the road and head for the Domus Vectiliana (Ludus Magnus).

After all, they were acting as if they didn't know where you were, and leading Geta straight into Macrinus' hands which it was not. So the plan was working perfectly. A little later, Marcus glanced at Octavius, and turned his horse round, making the guards surprised. The carriage kept going forward. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Their leader cursed and called out to some of them.

"Go after the general! The others stay with me!”

Marcus looked back over his shoulder at the guards who were chasing him as he rode his horse at a gallop. There were five of them. He needed to get rid of them without attracting attention.

"Come on!" He challenged them, drew his sword and turned his horse. He had one of them in his sights. He aimed at his leg and lunged before he could draw his sword, and the man let out a groan and fell off his horse. They were getting closer to the streets.The others yelled and drew their swords, rushing to attack Marcus but he was quick to dodge the attacks of two of them and managed to knock them off their horses. He rode his horse into the alleys to get rid of the rest. People screamed and ran to get out of the way to avoid being crushed by the horses.

"Where the hell is he heading to?" One of them asked the other.

"I think he found out where the princess is! Go there and warn the others before he gets there!”

As soon as they said that, they were both struck down by arrows from nowhere and fell to the ground. Marcus turned and saw Lexus and his men. He stopped his horse and nodded his thanks. Then, without wasting any time, he ordered the curious people out of the way and kicked his horse forward again. Since there was no obstacle in his way, he should be heading to get to you now.

The minutes and hours passed by, and the pain in your legs became increasingly difficult to bear. And you gave up. As you sat on the floor in the cold, smelly, dirty cell, you played with the wedding ring on your finger. Your mind was racing with questions. Why wasn't anyone coming? Or is it too late for everything now? Marcus, Geta... Your heart ached. It was torture, waiting there helplessly, hoping for rescue desperately, unable to do anything. You suddenly felt a pressure under your belly, right where your womb was. You put your hands right on it.

"Ssshh, calm down, my little one. I know you've been through a lot, but hang in there a little longer, please. Your father will come to save us, I promise you. Take his strength, take his courage and hold on. Our little miracle. We will always love you and protect you. So please try to hang in there.”

All of a sudden, a few shouts and the sound of swords clashing came from upstairs. The guards immediately tensed up and gripped the hilts of their swords. You jumped to your feet, unlike them, you felt excitement. Your heart was filled with hope. The sound of the iron gate opening loudly reverberated off the stone walls, and a moment later you saw a guard rolling down the stairs with the deafening sound of his iron armour ringing in your ears. The guards immediately drew their swords at someone on the stairs. First, you heard his angry roar and then Marcus himself rushed down the stairs, kicked one of the guards, and pushed him against the wall. The other swung his sword at him, Marcus crouched and lunged and cut his leg.

"Marcus!" You called out to him cheerfully.

He looked at you and smiled, but the other guard lunged at him, waving his sword.

"Marcus look out!" You pointed at him.

He managed to avoid the lunge at the last moment and hit his opponent in the back with the handle of his sword, causing him to stumble. As he lunged at him again, Marcus drew his pugio and knocked his sword out of his hand with both sword and pugio. And with a really neat move, he cut his neck. The stone walls were covered in a red, rusty-smelling liquid. You ran over to the iron bars and grabbed them. Marcus wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked at you. He looked at you with an intense gaze, his brown eyes sparkling.

"My lady." He said in a soft, velvety voice. "Forgive me for being late." He reached his hand through the bars to touch your face. "How could he imprison you in such a vile place? Did he hurt you?"

You grasped his hand with both of yours and kissed it. "No, I'm alright, don't worry." You forced a smile.

"How can I not, my love? My beloved. My soul. My breath." He then let out a sigh of relief, stroking your chin with his thumb. "Thank the Gods I found you safe and sound." He then gripped the iron bars and jerked them angrily, cursing.

"That man has the key," you said, pointing to one of the guards lying on the floor. Marcus went to him, bent down, and turned his lifeless body to check.

"Geta? Is he okay?”

"He is for now. We don't have much time, though. We need to get out of here now." He took the keys from the man and approached you. He unlocked the cell, setting you free. You took a step towards him and reached out to hug him.

"My lady, there is some blood on me-" You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. "...and I'm not very clean." He finished his sentence with a murmur.

"I don't care." You said, closing your eyes and hugging him tighter. You ignored the blood smearing your cheek from his armour and the smell of it.

He lifted his hand to touch your hair, but his hand was covered in blood. He clenched his hand into a fist and wrapped his arm around you, inhaling your scent without touching you. He then pulled back.

"Aurelia, we have to leave, now." His voice was firm.

You nodded and walked towards the stairs while avoiding stepping in the puddle of blood on the ground. Marcus noticed your nervousness and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you into his lap. You looked at his face as he walked up the stairs with you in his arms. He looked very serious and stern, and you could guess what he was feeling, and what he was thinking. It must have been hard for him to find you in a situation where he almost lost you somehow, and to fight to make sure that didn't happen. To kill someone every time, to have blood on his hands. But for Marcus, finding you safe and sound was enough, he didn't care about the rest. He walked through the countless guards lying lifeless on the ground and carried you out in his arms. You were angry that he had to kill them because of Macrinus. It was all his fault, so many people had died because of him so far. Marcus lowered you to the ground beside his horse.

"It may be a bit of a rough ride, but try to hold on, will you?"

You nodded. "I can manage.”

He smiled and moved the saddle back a little so you could sit on it. He then settled in front of you. You put your arms around his waist. Marcus took hold of your arms around him. "Hold on tighter, princess."

Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. He grabbed the horse's reins and kicked his horse forward. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could. With each jolt, your cheek bumped against his back.

"Where are we heading now?" You asked.

As you passed the Colosseum, you noticed the sun was setting over the hills ahead.

"First, I'll take you to the Curia Julia."

You tilted your head to get a better look at his face. "I'm not coming with you?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. "No, Aurelia, I've got a few platoons of my soldiers heading to the area around Macrinus' villa. We need to get ready for the upcoming skirmish."

"You're going to fight the Praetorian Guards?"

He sighed, “I hope not. But if it's necessary to finish off Macrinus, yes.”

You swallowed, nothing was over yet. "Why Curia Julia?"

"Geta is there with the other consuls. The rest of the guards will be guarding them. It's the safest place for you right now.”

Marcus pulled up his horse near the stairs of the Curia Julia. He dismounted and then led you down. A few of the guards came over and nodded at you.

"If there's any trouble, make sure you keep Princess Aurelia and Emperor Geta safe." He spoke to one of them in a firm tone.

"We shall protect them with our lives, general! You just finish him off!" The man put his hand on his chest. "Vae victis.”

Marcus replied. "Vae victis." Then he mounted his horse quickly and looked at you.

"Come back safely!" You said, looking at him.

He nodded and turned his horse around, kicking it forward. You watched him leave until he was out of sight.

"This way, my lady," the guard said.

You felt abandoned as you climbed the stairs with him. Soon you heard a familiar voice.

"Sister!" You looked towards Geta's voice and your eyes widened in surprise. He was wearing a black cloak over regular attire. And what's more, he was in an official building like the Curia Julia with it.

He hugged you and pulled back to look at you. "I was so worried about you, are you alright?"

You nodded your head, it was a little strange to see him like this. "What happened to your fancy toga and crown?"

"Your husband's ingenious plan." He said, rolling his eyes. "Come, rest inside. Your face is as white as marble." He put his arm around you and pulled you inside.

As dusk fell, Marcus was urging his horse to a rapid pace, hastening towards Macrinus' villa. What he saw coming down the hill wasn't quite what he'd expected. His troops had already arrived and it was clear that a battle had taken place and probably been won, but Macrinus was nowhere to be seen.

"General!" One of the soldiers recognised him.

Marcus looked around and noticed Cato in the distance, who was wounded near the carriage ahead. Felix and Aris came over to him. "What the hell happened?" He asked them.

"Sir, the plan worked, but Macrinus wounded Cato and then they attacked us. We managed to kill them all, but unfortunately, he escaped and we couldn't stop him."

"How do you mean he escaped?" Marcus’ voice was like a roar.

"Octavius and a few soldiers went after him, sir."

"Which way did they go?"

"That way," Aris said, pointing down the hill.

"I'll go after them. All of you gather around at once. Take the wounded ones to the Field of Mars."

"Sir, what about them?"

Marcus looked in the direction he was pointing and saw the members of the senate who were loyal to Macrinus. They were looking at him with a look of concern on their faces.

"The rest of you, take them to the Roman Forum and wait there for my arrival." He said, looking at them from a distance. "Can you confirm that the other troops are still controlling the entrances and exits to the city?"

"Yes, sir. The city is currently sealed off."

"Good." He said, pulling on the reins of his horse, which reared up with a loud neigh. "Make them assemble at once and get moving!" He commanded.

As he rode, perhaps faster than he had ever ridden before, determined to catch Macrinus at any cost, he realised that he missed his horse, Dromos. He promised himself that when all this was over, he would return home and see his old friend again. And then he could go out riding with you again. However, at the moment, he just had to focus on finding and getting rid of the source of all his recent problems. Before long, he heard the sound of swords clashing, so he rode towards it. He saw his soldiers and the guards were fighting, but they seemed to be getting along.

"Octavius is following him, sir!" a soldier pointed ahead. Then he killed the guard he was fighting, and he jumped on his horse to follow his general. The other one did the same too.

Marcus was soon excited to realise that Octavius was running after Macrinus on foot. He was very close. Marcus called out to the soldiers behind him.

"Block his way!”

They did as he said and rode their horses around either side of Macrinus, to block him from going any further. He realised this and started running backwards. Marcus seized the chance and leaped off his horse to capture him. They ended up rolling on the ground together. Macrinus tried to fight back, but he was so tired that he gave up and collapsed, taking a few punches to the face from Marcus in the process.

The others walked towards their General. All of them stared down at the panting, treacherous, sixty-year-old dark-skinned man. Marcus drew his sword, Macrinus cursed, crawled back. But Marcus did something that even surprised himself. He thrust his sword into the ground right next to Macrinus.

Octavius touched his shoulder, "Sir." There were a lot of questions in his tone.

‘We're heading to the Roman Forum. Bring him along."

The soldiers looked at each other, confused.

"But sir..." Octavius protested.

"This cunt must be punished by the emperor Geta himself."

Macrinus gave a hysterical laugh, but it was clear he was upset with that decision.

"You don't deserve a painless death," he said, looking at him. "I'm sure the emperor has far more creative ideas for you."

The atmosphere in the Curia Julia was palpably tense, with everyone visibly anxious and on the brink of exhaustion. The noise was unbearable and it was giving you a headache. But Geta was determined. He had no intention of sending anyone home yet. This will be solved today, he said. He made you sit in the imperial seat that belonged to Caracalla, since you were exhausted, you didn't object, despite Julia's glare. Furthermore, it was clear that the Consuls had other matters to discuss, and did not care the fact that you were sitting there. Fortunately the murmuring of the crowd was soon heard outside, and everyone turned their heads in the direction of the footsteps approaching the hall.

Your heart pounded with both excitement and nervousness. You felt immense relief when you saw Marcus a short while later. Geta leapt to his feet and looked at him, his eyes wide open. Since you focused on Marcus' face and only later realised who he had brought to the middle of the great hall. When Macrinus fell to his knees on the floor, the consuls first looked at him in astonishment and then started shouting.

"Traitor!"

"He should be beheaded!"

"Throw him from Tarpeian Rock!"

Geta raised his hand and they all fell silent. You and Marcus looked at each other from a distance, wondering why he hadn't killed him. However, he was in a good mood and you were grateful to finally see his sincere smile.

"General Acacius." Geta called him. "On behalf of the Roman people, I am grateful to you for capturing this traitor and bringing him before me, before the Council. He will be judged here, before Roman law, and his final sentence will be given. The council is now in session."

"Your Majesty," someone stated. "I am afraid a council session is not yet feasible in these circumstances. Since your crown is absent and the attire you are wearing is not fit for this occasion. Furthermore, I must point out that it is inappropriate for two women to be present at this time. I demand that the necessary conditions be imposed."

And they all murmured, some agreeing and some objecting.

"Denied!" Geta said firmly. The man frowned and sat down. "Even without my crown, my true identity remains unchanged. Also, the women you are referring to are my mother, your empress, and my sister, your Princess, Aurelia."

Marcus looked at him with a confident half-smile. You could see the pride in his look.

Geta continued. "If there are no other ridiculous objections I will continue. You have all been waiting here all morning, so I will formalise things for the sake of Rome before I tire you out any further."

He silenced the murmurs and continued. His speech took everyone by surprise, including you. At the end of the session, the verdict was reached: Caracalla was declared a tyrant, and all his decrees, orders, wills, and other belongings were declared null and void. Macrinus tried to object several times, but no one dared to stand up for him or support him. Now it was his turn to be punished.

"He was really into training these gladiators and investing in them. Then I'd like to give him a fitting punishment." Geta said with a grin. Then he turned to him. "You will be thrown into the Colosseum, along with the rest of your followers. Your fate will be decided by the gods and the people of Rome." He looked at the guards. "Now get him out of my sight, I don't want to see his ugly face anymore."

Ignoring the pleas of the councilors who had helped Macrinus, Geta closed the session and everyone began to murmur once more. He came over to you, a big grin on his face.

"I can't wait to see that wretched Macrinus in the Colosseum tomorrow!"

You smiled in response. "You did well, brother."

He smiled widely. Marcus approached you both. Geta looked at him.

"Acacius, I'm surprised you didn't kill him, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad. It'll be fun tomorrow!" He said, clapping his hands. He winked at you and then went over to his mother.

You looked at Marcus. "I think it's finally over now. We can rest easy, can't we?"

"Yes, my lady," he said, holding your hand. "It's over now.”

You just stared at each other for a while, speaking through your eyes. The councilors left the hall, murmuring, while Geta and his mother had a brief argument. All of this faded into the background for you.

"Looks like we'll be spending another night on Palatine Hill."

Marcus smirked. "One last night. Then tomorrow we'll be heading back to the villa, our home."

You smiled. "Thank the Gods. I miss our home so much."

"I know, me too. Shall we leave now? I need a good bath, and as my wife, you can help me, can't you?" He smirked.

You lifted your head to whisper in his ear. "Anything you wish, my love.”

You arrived at Domus Severiana in the late afternoon. As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, you ordered the slaves to prepare the balneum for you two.

The stone walls of the balneum were softly caressed by the soothing steam of the hot water, while a variety of flowers floated on the surface, their sweet scent creating a tranquil atmosphere in this spacious bath house.  Marcus was in the water, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. You were right behind him, running your slender fingers over his flesh, rubbing his arms and shoulders, helping him to recover from the fatigue of the day.

"Your healing touch has refreshed my body and soul," he murmured. Then he took your hand and brought it to his lips, his collarbone, his chest, running it all over his body. Then he turned towards you, his movement causing some of the water to spill over. You swallowed as his eyes traveled over your naked body, your heart racing with excitement. He reached out for you, grabbed you around the waist, and pulled you into the water. "Now it's my turn to touch you.”

This time the water overflowed, and a lot of the flowers on the surface ended up floating away.

You giggled as Marcus ran his lips along your neck to your collarbone. "You meant to touch me with your lips? But I am in the water, so how are you going to touch the rest of my body I wonder?" You asked playfully.

"I sense a challenge." He murmured, his warm breath brushing against your collarbone. "I shall accept." He then grabbed your hips and lifted you, placing you on his shoulders. His head was between your thighs, your heels touched his back. You moaned with pleasure and laughed as his lips touched your folds. Your back arched instinctively as you felt his tongue in your most sensitive spot. You gripped his grey hair tightly with your fingers.

"Marcus! I am going to- ow!"

"Isn't it too soon, my love?"

You looked down at his face and saw that he was grinning.

"No, I meant to say that I'm going to fall, not come.”

He pulled his head back, supported your back with one hand and lowered you down onto the edge of the tub. "I've been a bit busy, I must have misheard." He grinned again. Without getting out of the water, he pulled you closer and continued where he left off. He stuck his marvellous tongue out and licked your most sensitive spot. You gasped and hitched your legs around his head, drawing him closer. He rolled his tongue up and down as he used his hand to probe at your lower lips. His beard tickled you as your breathing quickened. Adrenaline flooded your body as your pulled on his hair, bringing him closer, as he sucked and consumed you mercilessly. You bucked into him and he responded in turn with a little nip. You threw your head back as you gasped once more, feeling like you were losing your mind. Shaking, sweating, your entire body pulsed with pleasure as you clamped your legs around him.

You moaned loudly. "I am definitely coming this time!"

"Come for me, my love. Let me taste you.”

And immediately after his command, you came with a loud moan. Marcus kissed your belly and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into the water. He kissed you on the lips with great passion, you wrapped your arms around him. The water made everything a little slippery, but Marcus was determined to grip your hips roughly, puling you closer. You wrapped your legs firmly against his waist, feeling his need press against you in the most delicious way. You couldn't stop your moans with each and every thrust and neither could he, and you began to feel him deeply inside you, he thrust deeper and deeper, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge. He grabbed your hair, gathering behind the nape of your neck and pulling your face closer, claiming your mouth with his teeth and imploring tongue. And you came for him once more, moaning into his mouth. He then reached his climax right after with a groan.

Breathing heavily, you slumped in the tub, he was holding you close, kissing your chin then beneath your ear. You listened to the peaceful sound of water echoing off the damp walls until your breathing calmed. Without pulling out, he wrapped his arms around you and you rested your head on his shoulder. Once your both breathing and racing hearts had calmed, he stood up and led you out of the tub too.

On the following day, the capital of Rome was on the brink of witnessing one of the most momentous days in its history. The Council's decision, Geta's proclaiming absolute emperorship to the entire populace, was followed by the announcement of the execution of the traitor Macrinus and his supporters in the Colosseum.  As the sun reached its zenith, people were making their way towards the colossal structure, engaged in quiet conversation.

The emperor's carriage soon arrived near the Colosseum, where the people greeted Geta with great enthusiasm. You and Marcus were in the other carriage, which you got out of together and waved to the people who were cheering your name. The trumpets were blown, and as you walked towards the Imperial tribune, the announcer called out Geta's name. Everyone stood up and cheered him enthusiastically.

“Caesar! Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!”

Geta raised his hands and gave them the salute, then turned to you and held out his hand. And then they announced your name. You took Geta's hand and stood next to him.

"Princess Aurelia!"

The crowd clapped and cheered even more enthusiastically. You placed your right hand on your chest and saluted the crowd. It was then time for Marcus's name to be announced.

“General Marcus Justus Acacius!”

The crowd roared his name over and over.

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”

Marcus gave them a smile and a salute in return. Caracalla's seat has been removed and two seats have been added on either side of the emperor, as per his orders. At Geta's gesture, you took the seat next to him, and Marcus sat next to you.

And the trumpets sounded again. The announcer cut them off and carried on:

"For his treachery against the life of the Emperor and the Roman Empire, Marcus Opellius Macrinus is declared an enemy of the people. He has been stripped of his membership of the Senate and all those who aided and abetted him will bring to the arena in chains today, to face judgement, your judgement, people of Rome!"

When the iron gate sprung open, Macrinus and his supporters were brought into the middle of the arena in chains. The crowd booed them.

"Traitor! Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!"

The Announcer called the crowd to silence, listed his crimes one by one, which Macrinus replied with a smug smile.

Crowded roared. “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Geta stood up and went over to the balustrade. But then he glanced back at you and beckoned you over. You looked at Marcus and stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with you. He didn’t resist and followed you.

"What do you think, sister? Mercy?"

All three of you were looking at Macrinus. Julia, who was watching you from behind, seemed angry with Geta for not calling her mother to his side. She crossed her arms and made a face.

Looking at Macrinus from a distance, you shook your head. "No mercy." You said firmly.

Geta smiled and looked at Marcus. "Acacius?"

"Having mercy on the traitor is a betrayal to the innocent!" Said Marcus without taking his eyes off Macrinus. You smiled and held his hand, he was so right.

Geta put his arms up. "The gods have spoken!" And then he lowered both hands down. The executioner nodded and separated Macrinus's head from his body in a single stroke.

The crowd cheered. It was the first time you'd ever felt so relieved that a man was dead. Marcus let out a deep sigh, feeling the same way. When it was the turn of the other traitors, they shared Macrinus' fate too. Marcus leaned towards Geta. "Speak to your people, Your Majesty, show that you are a true emperor. They need it."

Geta looked at him, then nodded. He took a deep breath.

"The people of Rome! I promise you that from now on I will restore Rome to its rightful glory! During my reign, there will no longer be any Romans who are hungry or poor. I pledge that no Roman rights will be infringed upon, and that all will enjoy equal conditions. I promise you, as your emperor, that I will strive to make Rome the greatest empire in the world!"

You and Marcus looked at each other as the crowd continued to cheer and applaud, their enthusiasm growing. This was precisely what you had hoped to hear. It seemed that the people were also pleased. You admired Geta's personal development and believed with all your heart that he would do what he promised.

Now it was time. It was time for you and your husband to return to your home in peace.

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[yeonjuns-beanie]

In Odio Est Amor

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, descriptions of blood and violence, some exhibitionism, lustful/cathartic sex, angst, mutual pining, talk of death, oral(f receiving), think that’s it

summary: in a trade gone bad, you’ve been sought out by macrinus due to your animalistic combat skills. stuck in the camp of gladiators, Hanno is assigned your sparring partner. your existence is a bitter reminder of what he lost but in hate we find love. 

a/n: saw gladiator for a second time and i felt compelled to write, seeing as i CANNOT stop thinking about lucius/hanno. he’s just too hot. considering the historical timeline, this is a little inaccurate, seeing as gladiatrices were banned in 200 AD. hopefully, this will be up to par with the rest of the amazing writers in this tag. hope you have a great day! 

lucius verus x female!reader 

word count: 7.4k

Being the only woman in the camp of gladiators left you feeling like a chewed piece of communal meat that was too tough to swallow. Stuck in a loop of forever being spit out, only to be soon placed in the mouth of another slobbering animal. 

Anything beat the damnation of being a courtesan. 

The life you lived before was that of sexual servitude, left to your own meticulous devices of survival. Even with your promiscuous occupation, you found ways to be exceedingly picky. It was the only way you could save the last bit of dignity that you had left. Caracalla, saw a means to see an end to your persnickety nature when you denied him of the favors he requested. After the exile and potential murder of his late wife, most of the other courtesans never denied his requests, but when you were placed between his legs and met with unsightly sores as the base of his shaft; you couldn’t find the gall to risk your health. Especially, not for some entitled tyrant who was destroying Rome for all that it was worth. 

You told yourself that this would be one of the few clients you’d swallow your pride for but instead, you forced him to vomit his. Your refusal birthed a mirage of embarrassment and shame shrouded in anger and a battle cry for your death. After being whisked away by his servants, you were foolish to think that this would be the end of the interaction. As you walked the path home, you were overcome with wilting anxiety. In the moment where you felt you might be able to make it safely back, you were bombarded by royal guards. 

Pummeling you to the ground, your fists connected with as many faces as possible. When your coiled hands of fury and fright failed you, you resorted to more primal behaviors. Using your teeth to stall your enemies, shreds of crimson skin stained your mouth, but alas–you were severely outnumbered. One man struck the back of your head and covered your face with a burlap sack. Feeling metal cuffs being placed around your wrists, you allowed your bones to relax in your defeat, understanding that you were once again shackled to the fall of Rome. 

They tossed you around like garbage. You knew that’s how they saw you and could only imagine what Caracalla had said about you for them to be so rough. Dragging your body across the gravel, you fell limp in their grasp not caring where you ended up next. Soon sleep draped over your body and you hoped that your eyes would fight fluttering open, leading you to an everlasting sleep. 

When you awoke, you were in a stone cell clad in your dirtied stola. The ends of the dress were speckled with dirt and the low, modified neckline was frayed as if someone tried to tear it open. Sitting up on the bed you peered through the bars of your royal cage, your eyes landing on sweaty, shirtless men across the way. Walking to the bars, you could see that a few guards were patrolling the area, but you couldn’t help to notice that it seemed you were the only woman in these cells. Before you could find the strength to call out to someone, a brown-skinned man costumed in elaborate robes and jewelry came up on the other side of the cell. 

“Ah! You’ve awakened. And just in time, I must say, you get to prove your worth to me this morning.” “Excuse me?” “Apologies, suppose it would be a common courtesy to inform you what your new duties are. I have to admit, I saw you last night, tearing into those guards like a feral banshee; very similar to my barbarian.” 

Barbarian?

Your face contorted in confusion, wishing that the antics of storytelling would be removed from the conversation; however, judging from this man’s outward appearance you doubted you’d be awarded the luxury. 

“A gladiator of mine likes to eat monkeys. Proven to be one my best fighters, and seeing you behave as equally inhuman if not more than him, especially…after hearing what you did–I have to say I’m overjoyed to have a barbarian of beauty to bet on as well.”

Your face soured, realizing you were slavery bait. No better than cattle waiting to be slaughtered. 

“I’m not fighting for you.”

“Ah, my banshee, you see–you aren’t fighting for me. No…but rather your freedom. Fight for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your hand struck the metal bars of the cell. The ringing of the bars reverberating off the chambers of the stone prison. It was equally as haunting as the shriek of a banshee in the dead of night. Frustration and agony rushed through you, demanding a destination for its release, the rusty bars alchemizing the brunt of your fury. The only way out was through. Through blood, through agonizing pain, through the tears of what was left of your family name, through ruin. You let your mind wander about what could possibly satisfy the seething, bitter ache that now resided in your soul. 

The fall of Rome? Its mighty walls finally crumbling due to its horrific excuse of the ruling.  A damning plague? Disease wiping out all of those who were destined to meet the divine in some display of retribution? Or perhaps, the death of Geta so that Caracalla could choke on the verity of his despotic rule? Each thought seemed chaotic enough to satisfy the storm of rage within but there was only one thing that would snuff the flames. 

“Caracalla’s head.”

You stormed to the cell gates, fire breathing out of your nostrils and rage swimming in your irises. If he were to fall headlong, a bloody trophy for you to display, your hunger would be satiated. You fought tooth and nail your entire life, to be something more than a slave and here you were being pawned off for entertainment. Justice demanded her dues. 

“There she is. Now, put these on and follow their orders, I’ll be with you soon.” 

The cell gate opened and you were handed an olive green tunic, strophium, and subligar. Sighing as you looked at the fabric in your hands, you braced yourself for the long road ahead. Nodding to the man you realized something before he walked off.

“What was your name?”

“Macrinus. Yours?”

You hesitated, the weight of your given name threatening to roll past your lips. This couldn’t be your legacy–a woman discarded for the entertainment of others, her last shreds of dignity wrung dry and tattered. No one would seek the truth, nor would they care for the details of your defiance toward Caracalla. They would crave the story spoonfed to them by a diluted man. 

A savage. 

A wanton woman who was too picky in her own right in a poor attempt at survival. A woman who denied a royal the spoils he believed to be his right. 

A whore. Nothing more. 

That would be the glorious legacy, at least that would be the emphatic story the town would cry if this were to result in your untimely death. And yet, as you bored your eyes into the man on the other side of the bars, something about his presence loomed like a shadow too wicked to trust. The unsettling dissonance was difficult to ignore. Should he ask for the truth of your life, you’d give it willingly, but something in his gaze served as a warning: this truth would bear no fruits for you. 

“Nero.”

“That’s not your birth name, is it?”

“My birth name will die with Rome, if I see it fit.” 

Macrinus nodded a knowing smirk painting his lips before he walked off. 

In your new robes, you sat on the bed, waiting for your cell gate to be opened. In your dissociative state, you noticed all the different colors in the dirt and the different sizes of the rocks and pebbles. Wondering how long it took for these fragments of eternity to be reduced to small scraps of their original form. The squeaking from the gate tore you from your thoughts and a man dressed in typical gladiator armour greeted you with something mixed with disdain and pity. 

“Come. Time to train.”

You rose, the stretching of your limbs and the movement towards the man wrought with apathy running through your marrow. Was the struggle ahead worth the anguish that came with it? Would surrendering your life and facing judgment by the gods to everlasting torment bring a sense of solace in its finality? Would there be any reward in this life or the next for a soul being unmade by its own hand to escape imprecation? 

Your head hung as you followed the man outside, leading you to a gathering of burly men in tunics with all love for life stripped from their faces. They were bruised, scabbed, and jaded by the torment they’d been subjected to; but of course, the entrance of a woman breathed some vitality back into them. In the time spent in your cell, you had braided your hair away from your face, leaving your imminent beauty on display despite the rags they clothed you in. It was as if the world silenced around you as you walked in, your head now held high in the presence of others. A ringing filled your ears as your eyes landed on a ragged man, a cold detachment surrounding his aura. He was staring. A jaded expression tracked your every move as you took the open seat next to him, not uttering a sound. 

You hung your head again, hoping to ignore the invasive and curious gazes of the other men. Clasping your hands together, you prayed to the Gods to give you the strength to survive. Your prayers were cut short as you heard Macrinus’ voice echo over the various sounds of the training camp. 

“As you all can see, we have a new barbarian joining our ranks today. She is destined to earn her place in the arena just as all of you. Her late arrival means her trials begin in full. No. Mercy. Since my barbarian, Hanno, claimed victory in the hand-to-hand combat two days ago, perhaps it’s only fitting that you, Nero, show us the skills that spared you your life. After all, they chose to throw you in the gladiator pit instead of severing your head. Hanno, Nero, up!”

Macrinus clapped his hands together to urge haste in movement from you and whoever Hanno was. As you stood, you realized the body next to you was also rising in stature. Gazing in his eyes this time, there was an emptiness that stirred. For a moment you saw a flash of sorrow in his eyes and you furrowed your brow in response. He was built and you began to wonder what your limitations were for combat. You stood in between the benches of men and the elaborate chair Macrinus was sitting in, planting your feet in the dirt in a fighting stance. You waited for Hanno to reciprocate the stance but every time he leaned his body down, he stood back up in apprehension. Shaking his limbs in rejection, he turned to Macrinus. 

“This is not right. To fight a woman in these…in any conditions. Pick someone else.” 

“You will fight her or all deals are off. Who’s to say she’s not a worthy opponent? 

Your shoulders lifted lazily, dropping them with a defiant slouch as your face cast a dismissive look. Without hesitation, you settled back into your stance, surging at Hanno. You landed a jab straight to his jaw before drifting around his ankles, creating a tornado of dust that wove through his defenses. A storm of grit and determination fueling your fury. When he fell, the sorrow in his eyes was swallowed and replaced by vexation. You dodged his punches with precision, though his fist made home in your gut, dropping you to the ground. You hobbled up slowly, coughing out the bitter dust in your throat before lunging at him again with savage resolve. 

He was an equal opponent, but you were determined to win. Tapping into the same energy from the night before, instinct ravaged your body as you lept on his back, raining blows of rage down on his chest. His attempts to rid you of him only fueled your fire of wrath more and you grabbed a fistful of his hair. You let loose a scream that was sharp enough to sear the air, a blistering echo to the ears. Baring your teeth you were disposed to bite.

“Stop!” 

Macrinus’ voice bellowed through the camp ceasing the dog fight in front of him. You hissed at him, an animal seized mid-hunt. Hopping off of Hanno’s back, you stood in front of him and bowed in tense submission before walking with your head hung low back to your seat. Macrinus stood and gave a calculated, smug look towards the man clad in leather armour that brought you down here. 

“Hose her down and cell her with him. Balance already hangs by a thread in this camp. We must keep vigilant. I believe two invasive species, separated, will incite chaos. Keep them together and maybe those who resist them will have enough strength to endure” 

You raised your head slowly, turning to look at Hanno seated next to you, commiseration flooding your features. You were surprised to see the same look staring back at you. Pressing your lips in a fine line, you rose and followed the guard to the bathing chambers. 

~*~

Your muscles ached, the hot water soothing the pain radiating through your limbs. You assumed it was Macrinus, but there was folded fabric at the edge of the bath. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you draped the clothing over your body, only to find that it barely reached your mid-thigh. You knew you’d be asking for too much to be treated with some note of decency, but at least you were able to clean yourself. The guard walked you back to the cells and as you passed your previous one being occupied by another man, you realized the orders from earlier were not a bluff and you’d have to face Hanno like a fool. 

As you walked down the corridor, men in the other cells were whistling, catcalling you to come stay in their cell instead. Claiming that they could show you a better time than Hanno or the emperor. 

The word spread like wildfire. Once a whore, always a whore. 

You hung your head, hoping that somehow if you wore your shame on your sleeve you’d disappear from all the madness. The squeak from the cell bars ripped you from your thoughts and you looked at Hanno apologetically before seating yourself on the bed across his. 

“By Gods, why do they have you in here?”

You shook your head, trying to will away the tears that were welling up in your eyes. His first words to you weren’t vulgar or accusatory, they were forged of concern and despondent curiosity. You licked your lips, caging them in between your teeth in an attempt to swallow the burning ball of emotions that was bubbling up your throat. You turned to face him finally, swallowing your fears and accepting your fate. Something about him told you that you could trust him. Sighing, you found your strength to speak. 

“I assume you’ve heard the echoes of what I’ve done?”

Hanno nodded slowly.

“There is some verity to the words but not all. I know you may find it difficult to see truth in such a claim, especially as I stand before you clad in garments of odium, bestowed so graciously upon me. But know this– I am more than a mere cyprian. Indeed, I am Rome’s poorest excuse for one, and that very deficiency is what has landed me in the arena.” 

“What is this deficiency you speak of?

“Being too particular in whom I offered services to. I only did what I did to survive…and now, I must survive for sport–entertainment for eyes who would care less if I lived or bled out in the dirt.”

Hanno looked down at his hand, fiddling with the ring that adorned his pinky finger. 

“I also…I want to apologize for my behavior earlier today. He christened me a ‘barbarian of beauty’ –figured I needed to give him a reason to keep his favor. I do hope you understand, but still, the animalic behavior was unjust.” 

“No need. We must survive, by any means necessary. I only wish the Gods decided a different fate for you.” 

Hanno’s breath became heavy but sparse. He seemed to be reminiscing on something but wouldn’t dare let the words fill the air between you. He mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch and you were about to inquire but his low voice painted the silence first. 

“Your name, it’s not Nero, is it?”

Your body separated itself from your mind and you stared at Hanno with fear and uncertainty. Your birth name was shallow on your tongue but heavy in your throat, begging for someone to see you for more than just your flesh. To attach an identity to the body more than an insult. You shook your head and turned to the makeshift window toward the ceiling, seeing a navy blue begin to stroke the sky in its image, hoping that something would give you the strength to share yourself the same way you had done when it was at the expense of others. Hanno’s hand encased your own and brought you back to the conversation as the gesture startled you. 

“I’m not your enemy. Remember we’re ‘barbarians’, only the two of us.” 

Sighing, he swallowed his pride and revealed his belly to you. 

“Hanno is not my name, and I’ve not always been Rome’s favorite beast. I’ve come to know I bore a name that mattered. Lucius Verus Aurelius. The Prince of Rome. A name I may never be able to reclaim in glory.”

He paused tightening his grip around your hand as if seeking comfort. 

“There was a dream of Rome, one that my father fought for. But through slaughter and slavery, power won over the people and now we wade in the remnants of what once was. In search of the hope that someone or something will restore the honor.” 

Lucius let go of your hands and brought one of his calloused ones to his face, Rubbing the stress-ridden features away as the scratch of his beard caught your ears. You watched him attentively, waiting on bated breath for him to speak his next words. He leaned closer, the gap between seeming to never have existed. He gazed into your eyes, searching for something you knew not of until he uttered them in the next breath. 

“You remind me of her.” His voice was nearly a whisper. Something you’d miss again if you weren’t so focused on him. With more chest to his tone, he admitted.

“My wife. She burned like you do. A flame that never quit dancing. A warrior who refused to bow–they stole her spark. The same day they made me a slave. A bitter goodbye, I shared, but when I look at you…I see her ghost.”

There was a touch of venom in his last words. They seemed to have meant good will but the taste was sour in your mouth. A moment fleeting once again. Even in your vulnerability, your search for someone seeing you for you, you were a reminder of something else. You paused, taking a deep breath in before you spoke. Removing your hands from Lucius’, you stared at him with the cracked concrete resolve that you walked through life with. 

“Y/n. Y/n L/n is my given name. My father was once an accredited soldier here in Rome, but he tried to overthrow the twins. With that political betrayal came familial shame and poverty. Sinking deeper into poverty I couldn’t watch my mother fail. My beauty had always been prominent, so I exchanged my virtue in an effort to clear our debts and save what dignity my mother had left.” 

Tears began to well in your eyes as you thought about the orders that were carried out against your family. 

“They slaughtered her.” you began, voice trembling like a frayed string. 

 “As I spent hours severing my pride, they cornered her. There was never a debt–only a performance of humiliation, a spectacle of shame to the so-called traitor.” 

You stood, staring out the cell bars before turning to face him again, your shadow stretching across the stone from the torch on the wall. 

“My father raised a viper. A soldier to bear his name in honor. But those tyrants–these incompetent rulers–they’ll soon choke on their arrogance. I will have his head.” 

“Who?”

“Caracalla. I may have sold my poise for survival but I will not suffer my health for the pleasure of a rat.” 

You sat beside Lucius, your words heavy in the air. 

“I carry the guilt, a constant companion. I reminisce the fragments of life I had before all of this and now I reminisce of what it felt like to live a life unspoiled by the fear of death. The scars of my servitude are my food for that arena. This isn’t about freedom it’s about reclaiming a dream they stole.”

You felt Lucius staring but you didn’t dare return the gesture. You were naked, said too much about yourself, you only hoped that you could keep his favor. 

“We should get some rest. God knows the entertainment we’ll be performing tomorrow.”

Standing up you settled back into your bed, curling your body into a fetal position with your back facing the wall. You tried your best to maneuver the fabric of your dress to cover yourself but soon gave up on the endeavor and just stared at the ground covered in shadows of yellow and orange. 

~*~

Sleep evaporated in a single breath as the cacophony of clamoring metal and gruff voices jolted you awake. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you dressed in the olive garments from yesterday, the scent of sweat and earth still clinging to the fabric. In the corner, a pile of gladiator armor taunted your peace. With a heavy breath escaping you, you braided your hair, coiling it into a bun. Every strand you attached a prayer of strength to. The weight of Lucius’ gaze bore into you, his presence going unnoticed until now. He lingered, his eyes flickering between your own and the twisted knot of hair at your nape. 

“Something on your mind?”

“You mirror her as if she’s still here.” 

You noticed where his eyes were landing and gently touched the bun. A tight-lipped, bitter smile cracking your face. Rolling your tongue around your teeth, you spoke. 

“Whoever your wife was” you murmured, unspoken and unintentional venom in your tone, “do not look for her in me. Whatever regard you hold her in, I could never–honor the shadow of her memory. I am a poison.” 

You meant no harm but your words were dripping in acrimony. You hated that throughout your life, you were always seen for something other than yourself. The epitome of you, torn to shreds and left screaming. Y/n was never seen and how could she be? A family name forgotten in a smear campaign and a life lived of shame, what was there to be reveled in? You abhorred that he saw someone much more valuable in you than you deemed yourself worth. You were a ghost. A shallow reminder of what he once loved. 

The cell thickened with unsaid words, Lucius opened and closed his mouth, betraying the storm of thoughts that swirled within him. He walked toward the cell door, grabbed your blade, and passed it to you with care.

“I see you, Y/n, and your strength. Fight for your name today and do it with intention.”

You nodded, swallowing the bubble of hatred and sorrow in your throat. Standing you grabbed the grip of the blade, steadying its weight in your fingers. You heard the other cell gates opening and you waited to be released. Adrenaline and ferality coursing through your veins. 

The walk to the arena was short but brutal as the sun scalded your skin. As you stood in the shaded maw of the tunnels, you felt water sloshing at your feet. The rays of the sun blinding your eyes in its reflection. You watched Lucius walk to the front of the group, a commanding presence blanketing the air. 

“This is about survival! Survive!”

You followed his lead, wildly unprepared for what was to happen next. The feeling of the water squishing between your toes made your skin crawl but a shiver of fear soon took over as you saw the vessel you’d be fighting on today. Suddenly, the water made sense. You took a seat towards the front awaiting Lucius’ command. Your hands gripped the ore tightly and you looked at the bearish man next to you who greeted you with mockery. 

“Hope your teeth come in handy in the water.” 

You stared forward, fire in your eyes. You separated from your body feeling an unknown level of rage sear your being. You heard an announcer on the other side and the gates were released open, water rushing underneath the boat. Quickly scanning your surroundings you noted with disgust how the arena had turned into a spectacle of chaos. Floating vessels on either side filled with poor bastards, desperately seeking a second chance at life in this gauntlet of survival for the entertainment of nameless faces. 

Lucius commanded the ship valiantly, some men perishing to the sharks or arrows from the opposing side. As the boat was steered to demolish the other ship's ores, you felt a surge of rapid excitement run through you as you watched the shards of wood penetrate their skin. Leaving them in either complete agony or to bleed out amongst their crew. 

In one more calculated steer, Lucius’ ship barreled into the side of Roman’s warship, debris shooting into the air and clanking back down on the deck. All hell broke loose. You watched Lucius hail down from his post, sword in hand as he slaughtered two men with unusual ease. You’d seen a rage poor out of him that you never seen actualized in anyone but yourself. Your eyes caught Caracalla’s as he sat in his imperial chair watching with glee as your limbs froze in anger. You were one of the last to flee the boat and the game announcer made sure everyone saw your unease as you comprehended your reality. 

“It seems our newest gladiatrix hasn’t earned her sea legs.”

Unbridled fear and rage soiled you as you stared at the crowd with wide, brazen eyes. You growled, tightening your grip on your sword, and ran into the chaos with reckless abandon. Your resolve didn’t care who your sword struck, just as long as your bloodlust was satisfied. Helmets adorned with hideous plooms made your targets easy to strike and you made it worth your while. Your blade was stained crimson and you clawed at their exposed skin just to ensure their death was agonizing. Flesh caked under your nails, the dried blood becoming sticky in your palms. 

Baring your teeth, your back was hunched and heaving in the air. You snarled seeking your next victim within the chaos. A blade slashed your arm, leaving fresh garnet to ooze from the wound. You looked up into the emperors’ box seeing Caracalla leaning forward in his seat pouting at the outcome in front of him. Macrinus was behind him, hands steepled together as he hid a smirk from the rest of his peers. Hearing the announcer’s grating voice echo in the Colosseum, you stalked your next target. 

“What an animal! She’s worse than our sharks. Perhaps, we should have put her in the water instead!”

Laughter erupted in the area and you looked around feeling a sense of helplessness begin to wash over you. You were giving them exactly what they wanted. Stomping around on the deck, you were planting your sword into already dead soldiers just to feel the destruction of their flesh through your blade. Your eyes landed on a lone bow with a perfect arrow clattered on top of it. You dropped your blade, the metal clattering against the wood of the ship. Blending in with the chaos around you, you picked up your new weapon and drew your arrow back. Slightly hidden by the tattered sails, your attack was camouflaged by those in front of you. Lining up the point with the emperor’s box you let the arrow spring free. When you dropped the bow and stepped from behind the ragged sail you were defeated to see that the arrow had lodged itself in the side of Caracalla’s throne. 

“TRAITORIUS!” Emperor Geta cried. His yell acted as a death knell for the arena. 

Lucius whipped his head around from where the arrow hailed and when his eyes landed on yours he stormed to you shaking you to bring your spirit back from the brink. You heard nothing he said. They would remember you if it was the last thing you did. Your eyes were locked in on the imperial daises relishing in the fear that briefly flashed their faces. 

~*~

Retired to your cell, the air was thick between you two. You avoided his gaze and didn’t dare to speak. You had cleaned yourself prior, but you were still picking at flecks of dried blood under your nails. 

“That was heedless what you did today.”

“I said, I’d have his head. I missed. The fear he held filled me well. Tomorrow is a new day.” 

“And what if they saw the attack, what revenge have you then?” His tone grew more accusatory as he stood, his figure imposing. You spoke to the ground, not having the strength to fight with him.

“Then at least I died trying. Something my father wasn’t granted the courtesy of.”

Lucius paused, trying to find the right words.

“You fought like a storm.”

You raised your head to face him, surprised by his change of tone. You silenced the flutter of happiness you felt from the praise, but your small smile didn’t go unnoticed. 

“A storm drowns as easily as it conquers. I was blinded by rage today. They got exactly what they wanted.” 

Lucius’ frame softened as he sat next to you and you traced the stitches of your battle wounds. It suddenly became usually silent within the camp, the crackle of a fire pit out in the quad of the prison, the burning bark of the torch, and the occasional shuffle from a guard were all that echoed through the halls. 

“You’ll ruin your skin if you keep at it like that. Leave it be, y/n.  You’ve endured enough today.” The flicker of care that painted his words was the antithesis of his rough exterior. It challenged you and your vulnerability. 

“And if I don't?” your breath shaky in its opposition. “What would it matter?”

“It matters to me,” he spoke quickly. A note of something raw in his tone. You turned to him, the silence that filled the cell now was an entirely different energy. Startled by the vulnerability etched into his face and the weight of his gaze, you were stripped of your defenses. The shell you encased yourself in crumbled to dust, exposing the fragile girl beneath. Your body moved before your mind and you scooted closer to him, your shoulders brushing feeling the heat radiate off him.

Lucius exhaled, a sound that harnessed the weight of everything unsaid. His hand came to rest on yours, the gesture done out of harmony rather than dominance. The scruff of his beard tickled your forehead as you raised your face towards his. In the soft glow of the torchlight, both of your eyes said a thousand words in complete silence–then your lips met. Not with haste but with an aching tenderness that your soul burned for. The outside world ceased to exist, enraptured with one another in this moment.

The kiss started soft but your breaths soon became heavy, vacuuming air through your nostrils out of fear that if your lips disconnected this moment would disappear. Lucius moved his hands to capture your waist and slotted his hand under your thighs to move you into his lap. It was then that you broke the kiss, uncertainty filling your being once again. 

“What’s wrong?” Concern laced in his tone, afraid that he made you uncomfortable. You sighed, feeling unwanted emotion rise viciously up your throat like heated bile. 

“I want this to be more than just a fleeting moment. I don’t wish for you to see me as the whore they’ve so harshly crafted, nor to feel like a conquest for you–a prize so easily won.” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, unable to hide the waves of emotion well. Lucius caressed your sides, soothing you as you sat in the pit of regret and sorrow of what you had done in life. Your head hung, but not for long as Lucius’ thumb and forefinger raised your head to look at him. 

“Do not tether yourself to that title. It is not chains of eternity that shackle you to it. Y/n–it is a false truth whispered through the minds of shallow men to make you small. To me, you are no more a whore than a flame is a shadow. Your light burns through the weathering of rain, igniting your strength.” He paused, his eye contact unwavering to show that every word he spoke held the weight of complete veracity. 

“If you wish to stop, say the word. But know this–my desire is not conditional, no debts or games to be played. What happens here is your command.”

Lucius’ hand came up to wipe the tear that you hadn’t realized fell. It was overwhelming to feel such acceptance. You believed every word and let yourself soften into his embrace, wrapping your hands around his neck and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Thank you–I…Iwant this. I want you.”

His lips found yours, this kiss more searing than the last. Your hands tangled themselves into his hair and your hips rolled in rhythm against his own. His hands trailed down the sides of your curves before finding refuge in the fat of your ass, squeezing the flesh with zeal.

His hips stuttered as he squeezed your flesh and you could feel the bulge beginning to form underneath his tunic. You rolled into the feeling, both of your breaths labored in wanton desire. You pulled your lips away only to pepper kisses down the length of his neck, swiping your tongue up before you bit the lobe of his ear. The faint taste of sweat fired you up even more and you couldn’t get close enough to him. 

Curling your fingers into the fabric that clung to his chest, you pulled him close suffocating his lips to yours. In a moment, he had positioned your body so that your back was laid down on the bed and Lucius hovered over you. Taking in your form for every strand of beauty you were worth—a dangerous hunger flashing in his eyes. 

Your hair was splayed underneath you and Lucius moved a few strands away from your face before placing kisses on the length of your jaw and down the column of your neck. Lucius placed a lingering kiss upon your lips before resting his forehead against your own. His breath mingled with your own as if to rid you of all the pain and uncertainty you had felt throughout your life. He wanted to replace all those negative feelings with something raw and unbreakable. 

You trailed your hands down the front of his body before looking back into his icy eyes, seeing a new emotion swirl in them. Your actions were no longer reigned by caution but falling victim to a deep, unspoken yearning. 

“Let us be whole in this moment,” you whispered, the words dripping in true desire. “Let our bodies tangle and relish in the ecstasy.”

Lucius didn’t answer with words, but instead captured your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. It devoured and soothed you in one fell swoop. His touch was firm, but tender, massaging your body with something more than lust. This was a testament of humanity amidst the terror of your world. 

With ease, Lucius removed you from your clothes, leaving your body to be painted by the distant flames. When he stared at your naked form without saying a word, you soon grew self-conscious and wanted to cover your body from his raking eyes. Catching your hands in his, he gave you all the reassurance you needed. 

“Don’t hide from me. Let me see. One should feel so blessed to lay their eyes on you, like this.” 

Lucius kissed down the trunk of your body, leaving flowers to bloom in their wake as he made a path down the valley of your breasts. When he reached the area above the mound of your sex, he paused and looked up at you for permission–eyes showing you a hunger you’d never seen before. You nodded as you gently spread your legs wider, giving him complete access to you. His eyes were blown wide as he dipped his head to meet your petals. His nose teased the top of your clit and the anticipation was driving you mad. Before you had the chance to beg him to touch you, his tongue swiped up your folds, collecting a puddle of arousal on his tongue. 

Your body shivered in shock and pleasure, your hips jolting forward and your back arching slightly. You threw your head back, shuddered air falling past your lips. Your hands immediately found solace in Lucius’ hair, gripping the strands as he lapped at your garden. Soon your hips were rolling in rhythm with his tongue and you could feel the heat begin to pool in your lower stomach. Your muscles tighten and release with each passing second of foretaste. 

“...Lucius…I,” he lifted his head only for a moment to shush you. “I’ve got you. Cum for me y/n.”

You let the feeling of pleasure swallow you whole as he dipped two fingers into your cavern, your walls sucking him in greedily. The added stimulation brought you over the precipice of your rapture and your body wriggled with euphoria against Lucius’ mouth. When your spirit settled back into your body, you giggled breathlessly. Second nature soon taking over as you lifted yourself from the bed.

You moved forward, your hand feeling his cock through the tunic and you felt a salacious urge brew rapidly within you. Lucius quickly rid himself of his clothes, his sculpted body on display for you to indulge in. When you moved yourself to your knees and began to return the oral favor, Lucius’ hand stopped your head from its descent and guided you to look at him. 

“No,” his voice was laced with desire but thick with command. You could see his resolve crumbling a bit in front of you. “This is not about me. It’s for you. You’ve done more than enough in this life, let me return a fraction of that and allow me to give it all to you.” Lucius pushed you and laid you gently back down. His face rested against your own, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered into it. 

“I want to hear your pleasure, not just give into mine. You owe me not a thing,” he paused feeling a bit of his dominance morph into a teasing leviathan. 

“You want this?” 

You nodded rapidly, your hands wrapping around his arms just needing to feel his skin against your own. You looked down between your bodies. His cock hanging heavy off of his frame, tip flushed with desire. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, needing to feel his length somewhere inside of you. Lucius swiped his tip against your folds, soaking his shaft in your arousal just to show you exactly who was in control. 

His tip pushed at the entrance of your heat, your brow furrowed in ardent zeal as you squeezed around the small bit of length that was inside of you. Lucius held the base of his cock guiding it to the hilt until your bodies clapped at the connection. He brought his arms down to rest on his elbows, bringing his face closer to yours to watch your expressions contort in fervor. You couldn’t help the sound that escaped you as he buried himself inside of you and on instinct you covered your mouth to muffle the sounds. 

Lucius removed your hand from your mouth, his smile wicked as he shoved his tongue in his cheek. 

“Let them hear. Serves them right for locking us in a cage together.” 

He began to move, his thrusts deep and slow. Closing your eyes, you felt every ridge and curve of his cock. Dragging out your pleasure in the most beautiful way imaginable. The clap at the end of each thrust was unmistakable and you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care. You almost wanted everyone to hear the lustful wreckage he was throwing you in. 

Opening your eyes, the closeness of his face caused you to writhe against him and moan out. The sounds amplified by the stone in the cell, leaving everyone else outside at the mercy of your cries. 

“Lose yourself in me.” 

Lucius pushed himself up so that he could grab your hips and deliver more calculated thrusts. Each time he pushed in, you could feel his tip kiss your cervix with pure carnality. Your moans were low in timbre but grew more frequent as you felt the knot in your loins begin to tighten at the new speed. 

There was a sheen of sweat across Lucius’ chest, a bead dripping down his brow. He brought himself back down and tortured you with the same bruising pace. 

“Cum for me. Cum with me.” 

He captured your lips in his reminding you that this was more than just lust at work. Your sounds were swallowed by his mouth as the heart of your wanton need contracted around his length in lascivious rhapsody. He fucked you through your orgasm before pulling out and painting your stomach in his alabaster drippings. 

Lucius hovered over you, taking in what just happened. As you held eye contact with him, you snuck your hand down to the milky portrait and scooped up some of his salty sap. Bringing it to your mouth, you sucked on your finger, savoring the taste. He groaned at the sight and you smiled at him when you released your finger with a pop sound. 

Lucius stood up, grabbing the poor excuse of a blanket off his bed, and used the corner to clean you of him. Wiping the stain of his cum in the dirt, he threw the sheet back to his bed. Grabbing your robes and motioning you to stand up, he covered your body. 

“No one else needs to see you like this.” 

The gesture was warm and his words held a sense of finality to them. As if he were counting on the fact that you’d never go back to the life you lived before. Lucius covered himself in his tunic. Pheromones, and earth flying off the fabric as he lay down on the bed. He opened one arm and nodded his head toward himself to motion you to lie down with him. The fit was tight but that didn’t matter at this moment. 

The quiet lingered, heavy with everything you hadn’t said. Lucius’ breath came slow and steady as you traced patterns over his body, his hand soothing your arm—an unspoken promise in such gentle touches. 

“You deserve more than survival. I’ll fight for that. I’ll fight for you.” 

The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you allowed yourself to believe for the first time in a long time. To believe that the life ahead could be yours. Not stolen or dictated. With the warmth of his steady presence, you curled into him. Letting the moment take root in the deepest parts of you. Whatever lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone. 

please don’t forget to like and reblog if you enjoy my writing! :D

© yeonjuns-beanie ‘24

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

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

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 reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

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. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @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 @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[the20thangel]

The Emperor and His Lady Chapter 5

Summary: As Arabella slowly began her game, Noticeable changes started happening in the palace. While some are pleased with the changes, others are not. Making a foe to rid of the lady from her emperor's side.

Word Count: 2.9K

Tags: Smut, fluff at the end, Minors DNI, 18+ !!!

Taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life @justnobodynothingmore

Masterlist

The next few days were a blur, but at the same time, it was painstakingly long for Arabella. Instead of spending time with her lady and the general, she forced herself to stay in the company of the emperors. At first, Geta did not notice the change until he noticed many of his concubines were distancing themselves from him. Not understanding the change, he took more notice of his background and saw the company of his day, seeing Arabella in his crowd. Shocked, he had no idea she was there, but since then, he searched for her each day, and each day, she was there, wearing the same colors as he was. Seeing how she intentionally dressed to match him made him feel extra possessive, and he started requesting that she stay by his side by holding onto his arm. 

Another change he noticed was that since Arabella’s presence, more and more of his people were willing to speak with him and no longer seemed to fear him. He had mixed feelings about this new change since the start of his reign; people had always feared him and his brother; it was how they created their empire, but at the same time, seeing people willing to talk to him made him feel a different emotion; it made him feel loved. 

The main person who was not happy with these changes was Caracalla; it had always been just his brother and him against the world, against their enemies and allies. Now, all because of a stupid woman, he was losing his brother, leaving him alone. He didn’t like being alone. This, unfortunately, allowed Macrinus to slither his way to the younger’s ear, telling him his foe was the sweet lady hanging off his brother’s arm, letting him know how everything could go back if the lady were ruined for Geta.

“Wouldn’t you like to have fun with her and finally get your brother back? Take her, and your problems will all disappear, my emperor.” Macrinus whispered, growing in sadistic delight as Caracalla hungrily watched his next prey. 

Sighing, Arabella rolled her shoulders. She sat behind the emperors as they talked with the game master about postponing the next set of games. 

“Filling up the Colosseum with water is taking more time, my imperators, but I assure you that everything will be ready in a month, " the game master said, growing nervous with the emperors’ glare. 

“Or you can work twice as hard and fill it faster, and the games can take place how we want them,” argued Geta, drinking his wine while he stared at the game master. 

The Game master gulped as he felt small under Geta's glare while Caracalla cackled, allowing a concubine to feed him a grape. Seeing the impending temper, Arabella prayed for the gods to be merciful as she stepped in. 

“My Imperator, the game master, just wants to ensure he provided the best games he can offer you, but it is not meant to be a slight. Rush the preparations and have a mediocre game, or move it back a month and ensure an entertaining game for you and the whole of Rome. Imagine the success; people will thank you and your brother for throwing a spectacular gladiator fight,” she soothes, placing an arm on Geta’s arm. 

As Geta turned to his lady, the whole room froze, watching the internal battle between emperor and lady. After what seemed like minutes, Geta took a sip of his wine. 

“If what Lady Arabella says is correct, I only expect the best games from this postponement. If it does not meet my expectations, you will make her a fool and shame my brother and me. Then, only the gods will hear your plea as your body is ripped limb by limb. Do I make myself clear, game master?” Threatened Geta, smirking as the game master stuttered in fear. 

Arabella closed her eyes and exhaled. Considering what could have been the outcome, it was a positive sign. Leaving the resolution as it was, the emperors moved on to have enjoyment.  Geta noticed Arabella’s slight scowl and discomfort as the Emperors started messing with their concubines. 

“Arabella, you are free to go…” Geta dismissed her, turning away. 

Arabella, feeling grateful, bowed before hurrying away from the room, not noticing hungry eyes following her out. Feeling like she was being stared at, she turned, making eye contact with Caracalla as the younger emperor licked his lips, not paying attention to the concubine on his lap. Shuddering, the lady left fast and walked to the gardens to relax her breathing. As she leaned on the fountain, she steadied her breathing when she heard a warm voice calling for her. Lifting her sight, she smiled, seeing Former Empress Lucilla walking towards her. 

“My lady, how I missed you. I apologize for not spending time with you as of late, " Arabella said as she kissed Lucilla's cheeks. 

“No worries, sweet one, I… I have been busy as well…” hesitated Lucilla, looking around her surroundings before pulling Arabella closer. 

Being led around the gardens, Arabella waited as she watched her lady gather her strength.

“I want to tell you something, but please, it must stay between us… no one can know.” Lucilla warned the younger. 

Nodding, Arabella promised as she leaned closer to the former empress. Smiling, Lucilla caressed her surrogate daughter’s cheek. 

“Lucius is alive. My Luicus is with life!” she exclaimed quietly, tears glistening. 

Arabella paused in shock, having conflicting feelings. For one, she felt happy for her lady that the son she grieved all these years was alive and not dead. On the other hand, she felt envious; Lucilla’s son was alive while hers was buried in the ground, and she never had the chance to hold him and love him. Third, if Luicus was alive, would he want his throne? What did it entail for her and for the two emperors? Lucilla’s smile dimmed at Arabella’s silence, causing the younger to force a slight grin. 

“I am happy for you, my Lady. Truly, how joy you must feel to know he is alive and safe… is he not?” She paused, seeing Lucilla frown at her words. 

Tearfully breathing, Lucilla responded, “He is one of the gladiators; he goes by Hano… He…He pushed me away. He does not want a relationship with me.” 

Lucilla shed a tear, remembering how Lucius pushed her away. Arabella's eyes softened. Wiping the tear away, she tried comforting her lady. 

“But he is alive, my lady. That is what matters, and he is so close to you. Pray for the gods for his protection; if he plays his cards right, he can earn freedom. Then there, no one can ever take him away from you.” she comforted her lady, grinning as Lucilla giggled with delight at the idea of Lucius being with her. 

“Yes, I hope so. May the gods protect and guide my son,” Lucilla prayed as the two ladies walked more. 

Soon, the ladies thanked each other, leaving Arabella to enter her chambers and see an upset Marcella waiting for her. 

“Marcella, please not tonight…” pleaded Arabella, growing exhausted hearing the scolding each night she did not lay with her emperor. 

“No! It will be tonight; while you were walking with the former empress, Caracalla and Geta overindulged in their wine, and again, I heard Macrinus urge Caracalla to make his move tonight, given how drunk Geta is; he will not be able to notice what happens until the dawn. You must go tonight; do not let that man win, Arabella….” Marcella nervously scolded her lady. 

“I… I will go tonight…” Arabella confirmed, closing her eyes in defeat. She had no idea how to seduce Geta. She was drunk the last time she did and stupidly naive. 

Marcella shook her head, helping her lady prepare and giving her spoken advice to seduce the emperor. Arabella flushed and bit her lip as she listened to the advice. Once they finished, Marcella led her lady to Geta’s chambers. 

“Now remember what I told you, my lady,” soothed Marcella as she fixed Arabella before bowing and leaving her alone. 

Sighing, Arabella searched for wine, wanting to calm her nerves. Seeing a cup, she walked towards it, looking at it in slight disgust. How many had drank from this cup? She thought to herself. Hearing commotion approaching her, she took a deep breath and drank the rest of the wine before walking back to the middle of the chambers. 

As Geta drunkenly entered his chambers with two concubines, they all froze at the beautiful sight of Arabella waiting for her emperor. Her cheeks blushed as she licked her scarlet lips, her brown waves framing her angelic face. As Geta loosened his hold, both concubines shared a look and silently left the room, leaving the emperor and lady alone. 

“Why are you here, Arabella?” slurred Geta as he staggered, and Arabella met him halfway.

Pressing herself to him, she explained, “I wish to spend the night with you. I have missed you, my imp—” She paused before finishing her sentence as Geta snorted. 

“Missed me, huh? After years of being distant, you now miss me?”  taunted Geta, watching as Arabella lowered her eyes for a second. 

Channeling her bravery, she pushed herself closer, her lips lightly touching Geta’s. She whispered, “Yes, I have…so please, Geta…. My Geta, please let me in.” 

Shuddering, Geta closed his eyes, her words affecting him again. Opening them and seeing his lady’s hooded eyes, with lust in her eyes, he closed the gape. Both allowed the walls around their hearts to fall as they embraced and deepened their kiss. After years of yearning for each other, they were finally breaking free. Arabella gasped, feeling her emperor's tongue enter her mouth. She tightened her hold of his arms as she pressed her body further to his. Groaning at the feeling, Geta grabbed her waist while pushing her closer to his bed. 

Falling on his bed, the lady, heavily breathing, stared up at her emperor, her lips swollen, her night dress falling off her shoulder, exposing more of her skin. Grinning, Geta leaned down, capturing her lips, before he moved down her jaw, down to her neck, where he began his attack, sucking a spot with licks and bites, enjoying the delicious whimpers he brought out from her. 

Arabella, falling more into her lust, wrapped her fingers through the ginger hair as she gasped, feeling Geta bite down on her neck. Yes, it was painful, but her pleasure was more remarkable. Moving to expose her neck more, she moaned, feeling him grind his clothed budge to her exposed and drenched cunt. Biting her lip, feeling devious, she, too, started to grind her hips up. She was matching the rhythm of her emperor. Grunting, Geta released his lady's neck, growing in satisfaction, seeing a red mark starting to form. Taking hold of her hip, He rubbed himself on her wet cunt, his grin growing, seeing her wither and pant from his humping. 

Opening her eyes, Arabella reached up, cradling her Geta’s face, “Please…My Geta, make me yours again; I want to be yours again…” she pleaded, breaking her promise to her 15-year-old self. 

 Growling, Geta began to undress while commanding Arabella to do the same. She did as she was told, shaking in pleasure. Arabella shed her gown before crawling onto Geta’s lap and kissing him again. She moaned into his mouth as he pushed himself inside her. He was thicker and larger from the last time she had him. Releasing her lips, Geta kissed the top of her breast before he began thrusting into his lady. Arabella moaned louder, moving her hips to match the rhythm but losing it once Geta started changing his speed, pounding into her. 

Wanting to have more control and speed, Geta pushed her to lay on her back; raising her hip, he pushed harshly, pulling out at a fast and bruising pace. Arabella screamed in delight at the overwhelming pace, her breasts bouncing with each thrust from her emperor, her mind in a daze, and she could only focus on his cock sliding in and out of her. 

“Who do you belong to…”Grunted Geta.

Leaning her head back, Arabella whispered, “I’m yours…” 

“Louder! I want the whole palace to hear you scream for me!” growled Geta as he pulled entirely out before slamming back inside her. 

Gasping wide eyes, Arabella screamed, “Yours, I am forever your Geta…. Yes… Yes… more…please… My Geta… I want more of you!” 

Grunting, losing a little of his pace, Geta grunted, “Yes, you are mine. Nobody shall ever have you. You were made for me, and nobody can ever… mmm… no one can ever compare to your cunt.” 

Nodding, Arabella squeezed her legs around Geta’s waist, grabbing his hands and placing their intertwined hands on her hips. She entirely gave herself to her emperor. 

“Yes, I will always be your Arabella. No one else can ever take me from you…” she declared before moaning loudly, feeling her emperor’s warm seed enter her. 

 As they gasped for their breath, coming down from their high, the lady ran her fingers through her liege’s hair. 

Listening to his lady’s heartbeat, Geta thought back to her declaration. Did she mean it, or was it in the heat of their pleasure? Unable to fight the tiredness, both lady and emperor fell into Morephus' domain. 

The following morning, Marcella entered her lady’s chambers, ready to prepare her for the day, when her heart jumped to her throat; Arabella wasn’t in bed. Thinking the worst, Marcella ran out of the room towards the emperors' chambers. As she nearly passed by Geta’s chambers, she stopped. Looking around, she quietly entered, growing nervous seeing the emperor naked with a woman in his arms. She decided to creep forward; the sight before made her face grow red, and she quickly moved her eyes away. In his arms was an equally naked Arabella with a slight smile on her face. A smile grew as she quickly covered them with a sheet and left in relief. 

Arabella, feeling warm, snuggled deeper into the arms around her before she realized her actions. Sharply inhaling, she opened her eyes and inclined her head to ensure she knew where she was. Staring at her, Geta’s calm face flushed as memories of last night returned, the heat blooming in her stomach again. Feeling selfish, the young lady pushed herself up, grazing her lips to his; she stared at him for a moment before leaning in and giving a chaste kiss to her emperor, waking him from his slumber. 

Usually, Geta would grow annoyed when any of his concubines tried to kiss him from his sleep, but once he opened his eyes and noticed it was Arabella, he closed his eyes again, enjoying her warm, soft lips on his. Allowing his vulnerable side to take hold, he raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it. Arabella's eyes snapped open in shock, breaking the kiss to lean away from Geta. Geta grumbled as he opened his eyes, annoyed that his kiss was cut short. As both lovers stayed frozen, staring at each other, neither knew how to begin their conversation. 

Geta decided he would be the first to speak, his question from last night coming back to him: “Did you mean what you said last night…” 

Arabella searched his face for his emotions but was unable to read him, “...I-” 

“Did you mean that you will always be mine, Arabella, that no one has or ever will touch you?” questioned Geta more firmly as he sat up. 

Arabella’s heartbeat echoed in her ears, staring into Geta’s soft eyes, even if his tone was firm. Even if her 15-year-old self screamed to place her walls up, pleading not to fall again, begging to protect their heart, Arabella could not lie anymore; she would not deny it. 

Softening her face to grace a sincere smile, Arabella kissed her lover before whispering her words on his lips, “Yes, I am forever yours, Geta, my love… not one person in the entire Roman empire shall ever take your place. I do not want to; I only want to be with you, My Geta.” 

Feeling tears prickle his eyes, The Emperor ignored his 17-year-old self, screaming at him to push her away, that if he pushed her away, they could not suffer through the same heartbreak they felt when their son died. Geta held his lover’s face as he kissed her back. She lay back on the bed as she wrapped her legs against his waist, again begging for him to enter. 

As he entered her sweet body again, hearing her quiet moan, he whispered in her ear to make sure only she would listen to his vulnerable words. “I have missed you, My Arabella, my sweet girl, my empress.” As servants passed Emperor Geta’s chambers, they heard the sweet sounds of two lovers rejoining their hearts together again. 

Later, the feast chamber was tense as many had conflicting feelings about the scene before them. Usually, Geta and Caracalla sat on an extended bench flocked by concubines as they were fed. However, Arabella sat beside Geta’s left today while Caracalla sat beside his brother’s right. Everyone saw the enormous angry mark on Arabella’s neck that she wore proudly as Geta ate happily. Acacius and Lucilla, who were invited, in truth, more commanded to come, shared a weary look between them before Lucilla drew in a sharp breath. Geta raised Arabella to his lap, looking at her with admiration as the young lady smiled at her emperor with the same look. While Caracalla and Macrinus also stared at the lovers, one in shock and the other in annoyance. It would be more challenging to separate the two, thought Macrinus as he drank his morning wine.

[thetormentita]

ad astra per aspera - chapter 2

Dulce et decorum est pro cor cupiditatis mori.

Pairings: Ofc! Princess x Lucius Verus, Ofc! Princess x Marcus Acacius.

A/n: Julia seems to know well how to enjoy the time bro Caracalla is out. Haven’t seen the movie yet, but I prefer Lucius to not stick to the so famous “arma virumque cano” 😌

Warnings: smut, blood, mentions of slavery, mentions of prostitution, mentions of abuse.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

They have to be quick and act before the arrival of their eldest brother—he will have enough time to throw a tantrum and even display his anger at them both if it is his wish. Repalandecent and magnificent, they enter the box covered by the dais and this time Julia takes the seat originally belonging to Caracalla, throwing a side glance at Geta as any possible comment is masked by the people of Rome gathered there to witness the first day of munera, carefully scheduled to match with General Acacius’s celebration for his triumph.

“Princess” greets Marcus when he approaches her, taking her hand between his with care and leaving a soft kiss on the back, his brown eyes always upon hers. “Or maybe I should call you ‘Augusta’.”

She smiles, polite, observing the face of Rome, his dark locks carefully kept in place, grey hairs here and there giving him even a better look to her taste, more of a seasoned commander and experienced strategist.

Somehow, she has always liked that man.

“This may be my only chance to not lay under the shadow of nobody, legatus.”

“Then I must encourage you to enjoy it.”

She nods as her brother stands up, arms stretched as if he wants to reach all the corners of the amphitheatre, and starts with the usual speech for the opening of the season. With her back straight, she observes all her eyes can reach, and for a mere moment she gives herself the chance to imagine herself there usually, of people addressing her as ‘Augusta’ and not ‘princess’, of being the matron Rome needs and not the daughter she was assigned to be.

It had taken her quite a lot of work to convince Geta to contribute to the ludus with gold from the imperial treasury, pushing him to believe the great victors of before were celebrated by Rome, making herself put Marcus Acacius in the same sack as Scipio Africanus, Julius Caesar or even Marcus Aurelius.

What a fool.

She knows she has to enjoy the time without her brother present to work hard, with Aeneas and her dear Hala going here and there with messages and donatives to different personalities of the city, the pain from the last encounter with her eldest brother still lingering upon her body, making it an obligation to take revenge against him.

Once the duels with the beasts have taken place, with her answering vaguely the comments that flow from Geta’s lips as he gives up to his thirst for blood and looks like a part of him truly enjoys the show, her eyes are upon the gladiators, observing them with curiosity, and perhaps a hint of admiration.

“Are these new, Macrinus?” Julia finds herself saying, feeling Acacius’s sharp gaze upon her as if trying to decipher her thoughts from afar. The bustling arena around them fades into a dull roar as she waits for her question to be answered.

“Yes, princess. Prisoners from General Acacius’s last campaign.”

“Numidians.”

“Exactly. Strong and fierce, they make excellent contenders in the arena. It is believed that their spirit and resilience add to the spectacle,” Macrinus replies, his voice carrying a note of pride, as if the ferocity of these prisoners was a personal achievement.

The princess’s eyes sweep across the sand-strewn arena, and she can swear the man in chains from the general’s triumph is among them, stern face as he observes her again, his gaze unwavering, almost challenging. The memory of their brief encounter outside the gates of the palace flickers in her mind—the intensity in his eyes, the quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him even then, bound as he was. It was a moment that had left an indelible mark on her consciousness, a spark that refused to be extinguished despite the layers of royal duties and decorum that demanded her attention afterward.

“Maybe you can claim one for yourself later, dear sister” murmurs her brother, a sharp gaze upon her as he realizes her distraction. His words, meant in jest, carry an undercurrent of truth that resonates within her. She quickly masks her fleeting emotions, almost forcing a cackle, her cheeks fighing their best to not blush.

“We can share if you wish, Augustus.”

Brother and sister exchange a look, long enough to show the rest of the people gathered with them that she still is the pliant sister, the one to comply to her brothers’s wishes, the one to bend but not break under the weight of tradition and expectation. Yet, there is a glint in her eye, a silent promise of rebellion, a hint that she is not as compliant as she appears.

The mumbling behind her fades as the gladiators fight, blood and sand mixing in a ballet of violence and spectacle. The crowd roars, a beast made of a thousands of throats, hungry for the spectacle, the carnage. But her thoughts are elsewhere, her eyes upon the man whose gaze had burned inside her soul. He fights now, his movements a dance of desperation and skill, each strike a testament to his will to survive, to prevail. She watches, heart pounding, as he navigates the chaos, a warrior poet amidst the brutality of the arena. His blade glints under the merciless sun, a flash of silver in a sea of red. With every opponent he strikes, her admiration grows, intertwining with a fear she refuses to acknowledge.

“That man should be leading armies, not risking his life for the amusement of the masses,” she muses quietly, her voice lost in the cacophony of cheers that erupts around her. The intensity in his gaze does not falter, as if he hears her thoughts amidst the noise.

“And I thought you did not like the munera, sister” Geta groans, amused. His enthusiasm for the games had always been more pronounced than Julia’s, who finds the violence distasteful, yet intriguing in a manner she couldn’t quite explain. It is the strategy, the skill, the sheer human will to survive that captivates her, not the bloodshed.

They both approach the edge of the arena, their eyes drawn to the spectacle below. The gladiators move with a grace that belies their deadly intent, each maneuver a dance of death and survival intertwined. Julia watches, fascinated as the man with the defiant gaze beats every man who comes before him, his movements almost poetic in their brutality. There is an elegance to his violence, a beauty in the way he anticipates and counters his opponents. The crowd roars with every fall he executes, their cheers fueling the fervor with which he fights.

Only with the deaf thump of the last body on the bloodied arena, the gladiator turns to the box and raises his sword to it, like a sort of offering to those who had gathered to witness his might. Julia feels a chill run down her spine, her heart caught in the thrall of the moment. The intensity in his eyes, even from this distance, seems to pierce through the crowd, connecting with hers in an unspoken acknowledgment of his victory.

“You must be proud, Macrinus. The ludus will receive much renown from this victory. Your gladiator has proven himself exceptional,” the magistrate by her side comments, breaking the spell of the moment.

Julia nods in silence, her eyes on the man who now stands as the epitome of victory in the arena.

“That is no Numidian” she mumbles, feeling the presence of Lucilla near her, the matron’s hand upon her lower back, a gesture of support and solidarity among the women of their stature.

Numidians were praised five centuries ago, when they took part of the Carthaginian army who dared to defy the power of Rome. After that they fell into oblivion, more a people prone to take care of their crops and fish their meals rather than learn to swing a sword with such dexterity.

“Where are you from, gladiator?” Geta’s voice booms across the arena, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over the crowd. The gladiator, standing tall and proud in the center of the sand-covered arena, turns to face Geta, his expression unreadable. The sun glints off his armor, a testament to his battles fought and won, yet his eyes hold a depth of sorrow that belies his formidable appearance.

“Obstipuit primo aspectu Sidonia Dido, //

casu deinde viri tanto, et sic ore locuta est: //

“Quis te, nate dea, per tanta pericula casus //

insequitur? Quae vis immanibus applicat oris?”

The gladiator’s voice is rough but clear, echoing off the stone walls that encircle the arena. The spectators, a motley assembly of citizens and nobles alike, fall into a hushed silence as they strain to hear the words exchanged in the center of the arena. A sigh escapes Julia’s lips as she recognizes the verses, his bright eyes not losing her face among the people gathered in the box.

“We have a poet fighting among gladiators, such a novelty!”

With a gesture of her hand Julia shushes Geta, letting the words of the gladiator wash over her, a poignant contrast to the violence that is expected to ensue. The man, armored only in the scars of past battles and a simple leather tunic is forced to leave the arena, his departure is marked by a hushed reverence, a collective breath held by those who had come expecting bloodshed.

“Princess” Senator Gracchus greets her by the entrance of the tunnel to leave the amphitheater once the munera has finished, his expression one of cautious respect mixed with a hint of curiosity. The man had shared a part of his political career with her father when they were young, serving under Marcus Aurelius “Such a way to start the season.”

“Nobody could have expected to have a gladiator quoting Virgil, that much is true.”

Around them an escort with Praetorian guards encircles them discreetly, offering them a sort of privacy. Julia’s eyes go to the senator’s, her mind still replaying the spectacle they just had witnessed.

“That man is hiding something.”

“I am afraid I don’t follow you, princess.”

She takes a deep breath, her fists clenching at her sides as she tries to set her own thoughts in order.

“No uneducated slave knows about Virgil.”

“Well, let us say that man is Roman, so what?”

“Senator, please indulge me and go to the markets yourself and ask how many commoners can recite the Aeneid out of thin air.” Gracchus throws a glance at her, big eyes hiding behind a veil of skepticism. The princess's insinuation bears a gravity he hadn’t anticipated, and Julia knows it. “Exactly.”

Roman nobility had always enjoyed a good fight between skilled gladiators, but it would be a stupidity to search for glory in a place like the amphitheater, close to death every moment there, seen like less than a commoner by the rest of the people, not allowed to even have a proper rest after the arrival of goddess Nemesis.

Or that man is the biggest fool on the Empire or he has something important to hide.

…

“Domina.”

She turns to observe her companion as she closes the door of the room, careful.

“Did you gave her the parchment?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Good.”

If there is somebody she can fully trust it is her sweet Hala, her confidante since childhood, the only one who has been by her side constantly, almost since the beginning, since Caracalla had started to hit her out of nowhere. The servant smiles at her, softly, when she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a familiar gesture brimming with affection.

“What would I do without you, my dearest?” Julia mumbles, closing her eyes when Hala takes her wrist and gently kisses its inner part, raising goosebumps on her skin.

“I can soothe your troubles, Domina.” Hala’s voice is sweet, grounding, her lips fluttering against the soft skin of Julia’s arm.

“Hala” her voice catches in her throat, the whisper a plea caught between desire and hesitation.

“Just let me do.”

Julia is about to give up and surrender to the proposition when somebody knocks at the door, disrupting the moment between them. Any hint of desire gets trapped as she opens the door, one of the soldiers of the imperial guard standing still at the other side, his eyes on the front, as wanting to avoid her gaze, possibly thinking that she could have a nature as volatile as her brothers.

“You gave order to tell you when the meals had finished.”

“Is the emperor busy?”

“Yes, princess. The scorti are keeping the emperor and the rest of the guests entertained.” The guard’s voice is cautious, aware of the delicate nature of the news.

“Thank you. You are dismissed.”

She closes the door as the soldier leaves after standing to guard, and she has to take deep breaths to keep herself composed. It is the perfect time to take advantage and play her own cards. In order to gather any courage and take her interrupted arousal a bit farther, she cups Hala’s face and brushes her thumb gently across her cheek, only to kiss her afterwards, almost devouring her, as if trying to reclaim the moment lost. Hala responds with equal fervor, her hands threading through Julia's hair, pulling her closer.

Only when their lips part she takes a deep breath and with a reassuring nod from her companion she leaves her quarters, her feet carrying her through the corridors of the Domus Flavia with one target in mind, soldiers of the Praetorian guard stationed at both sides of the corridors, the safety of the imperial family as their priority.

Her target is lying on a triclinium as his eyes observe the scene before his eyes with a hardly concealed grim upon his face, half hidden behind a golden cup.

“Enjoying the views, Legatus?”

If he is surprised by her presence, he hides it neatly.

“What else can you offer me, Augusta?”

Augusta. Any of her brothers could cut his tongue for it.

“What about a walk? I want to speak with you.”

A last glance at the bacchanal before them is enough for the general to stand up as he nods, signaling his compliance with her request. She leans and takes the cup he has been drinking of and takes a sip from the wine left behind, feeling the heat of his gaze upon her as she turns, to which she answers with a raised eyebrow.

Julia Septimia is fully aware of the potential of the man who is strolling the hallways with her, of the obsession her brothers have with him and his ability to inspire and command, to fight and slaughter, but she also knows that there is something deep down him that mismatches with the ambitions of the emperors.

“I know Numidia has left a sour feeling in you, my brother thinks of it as a trifle, but the only bloodshed he knows comes from the munera.”

She feels empowered. She knows that her time is limited, and that there are huge chances that Caracalla may retaliate against her for anything, the wine and the teasing from Hala run through her veins almost fogging her common sense, blending with the echo of the verses of the Aeneid still lingering in her mind. She has to risk everything if she wants a chance to win.

And it starts with Marcus Acacius.

As they walk through the sprawling palace corridors, Julia’s thoughts race with possibilities and strategies, always with her nephew in mind, a way to get things back to normal as they should have been from the beginning.

“My duty is with Rome, princess. If I am needed to lead my legions against the Parthians, so be it.”

She scoffs.

“I am not my brothers, so please do me a favour and do not woo me.”

“Princess—“

“I can offer you something in between. I have started to talk about it with my brother, so it would only take the other bastard to accept it.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

A smirk curves the edges of her lips as they come into the gardens with the big marble fountain in the middle, resembling an oasis.

“This is my territory. The people you see here are loyal to me.“

She wishes she could fully trust it, to have somebody ready to protect her at all costs.

They make their way to the library, far enough from the bacchanal to be able to speak freely. Here and there there is a soldier, or a servant, making their best to ignore them but, at the same time create a diversion in case it is needed. Those were her father’s people, the ones who had kept their place for so many years that the brothers even thought some of them to be a bunch of fools.

“You called me Augusta by the amphitheater.” A pair of brown eyes observe her. “Why?”

A smirk tugs from the corners of Marcus Acacius’s lips, matching the confidence in his eyes.

“Look at me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do better than your brothers.”

“It is my nephew’s right to sit upon one of those horrid golden eagles, not mine.”

Julia’s voice falters slightly with the weight of her words. She has told nobody about her wishes, and she cannot tell if she truly thinks the general is a trustworthy man or her impulse is talking instead of her brains.

“They are truly disgusting. I think your father fancied a throne much… Discreet.”

It isn’t needed an invitation for Marcus to sit once they have arrived to their destiny, and he observes him with a thoughtful pout upon his face, lost in contemplation.

The library is vast, lined with ancient scrolls and volumes, shadows from the flickering lamps casting patterns on the walls. One of the most important sources of knowledge in the entire empire, only accesible to a handful of people.

“Caracalla murdered our brother. Gaius was more fit to rule” she clenches her jaw as she speaks, pacing in front of him like a caged lioness. “He was wise and impetuous. He would have been a proper ruler after my father…” she raises her eyes to Marcus as she stops in front of him. “How was the empire before?”

Both know the answer well enough.

“I cannot grant you the temporary retirement you seek, but I can name you commander of the Praetorian guard. I need someone I can trust, someone not corrupted by the allure of ambition. Help me put my nephew on the throne and you can spend the rest of your active time in Rome close to your wife, and your retirement with a handsome pay being a lazy fuck in your villa along your loved ones.”

“Princess…” his voice wavers for a moment, struggling to keep steady. He considers her proposal, the weight of the decision pressing on his shoulders, and for a moment Julia is afraid of a negative answer.

“Somebody told me once that there are people outside this walls by my side, ready to support me if I choose to take action,” she continues, eyes glinting with a mixture of determination and desperation as she comes closer to him, looming over him despite her being smaller and thinner than him, easily beaten by him. “You called me ‘Augusta’ in front of my brother, knowing he could have had your tongue for it.”

He tilts his head to look at her, eyes half narrowed in the dim light of the room, and Julia can observe his features properly, shaped by the dancing lights of the candles around them, her eyes tracing the shape of his nose, the way the scruff on his cheeks adds a layer of shadow to his face, how he licks his plush lips as his gaze goes over her figure, the flickering lights playing with her garments and softly revealing her curves hidden under them.

“I am afraid I have lost my fidelity to Rome, princess.” He mutters, softly.

“I am not asking you to be faithful to Rome, but to me” she takes one of his hands, rough and big, and encouraged by something she cannot name drives it to her calf, letting his fingertips brush a yellowed bruise on her skin. “I need somebody to protect my nephew, legatus.” His touch goes further as her hands drive his up her body, and she ends up sitting on his lap, her breath mingling with his as she whispers, “The gods seem to see fit that I may not be able to do so for much longer” as she speaks, she reveals fading marks upon her body, silent witnesses of the outbursts from both of her brothers.

She leaves his hand free as she cups his face with both hands, her thumbs softly caressing his cheeks as he strokes her waist over her robes. His eyes search hers, filled with resolve and a newfound purpose.

“Princess, I cannot…” she leans over him and he lets her do, accommodating her on his lap, his free hand roaming under the clothes, his rough touch finding delight with the soft of her thigh “Your maidenhood—“

Julia’s lips find his jawline, leaving small kisses and teasing nibbles along it, her hips grinding against his, tempting him. When they kiss, he feels her urgency, her desperation for solace and strength, mingling with her desire, and a part of her mind betrays her and imagines she is not sat upon the lap of the most acclaimed general of his time, but the man with the piercing gaze and a hidden secret who prefers to fight in the arena and recall the tragic queen Dido of Carthage.

“That is something long gone” she whispers against his lips, her fingers roaming free in his dark and grey curls as he gasps when he finds how her folds are getting wetter with her arousal. “Fuck Rome if you please, Legatus. Fuck me under my brothers’s roof—“ she whines as his fingertips start to tease her, a rough digit rubbing long circles over her clit “Swear to me that you will do whatever it takes to keep the boy safe and your name will be remembered until the end of time.”

Her lips go down his neck as she awaits his answer, her mind half hazy with a desire half faked. One of her hands grasps his tunic as a way to ground herself into reality as the other tugs from his hair, earning a soft grunt from him, pushing him to tilt his head to leave her more space. A half pretended moan escapes her lips as the teasing digit comes into her, quickly meet by another one, and her hips go up and down them at their own pace, searching the bliss nobody but her lovely Hala had made her reach.

“I will do it” he pants, quickly removing his fingers from inside her and taking his erection to coat it with her arousal before teasing her folds again, making her whimper in need. “I swear to do all I can to protect you and the boy.”

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

FANFIC: LUCIUS VERUS X READER X GENERAL ACACIUS

Author's Note: As a test to see if this fanfic might appeal to anyone other than myself, I decided to share a preview with you all. If you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment—I haven’t yet decided if I’ll continue writing it. The characters do not belong to me but rather to the Gladiator II universe created by Ridley Scott.

one

PREVIEW

Gladiators fighting for their lives in the most savage of manners. The savagery does not startle you; you are accustomed to it. Your late husband often had to fight, quite literally, with tooth and nail to survive. He perished as he fought, dreaming that one day you both might escape. Left alone, hollow within, you were spared by General Acacius.

General Marcus Acacius delivered you from the fate of becoming a courtesan to Emperors Geta and Caracalla. In an act of calculated benevolence, he claimed you as his concubine (concubinatus), securing your liberty through this arrangement. For this, you harbor a profound sense of gratitude each day of your life. From that moment forth, you and the General Acacius have maintained the appearance of a romantic entanglement. He graciously granted you leave to serve as an attendant to Ravi, the steward responsible for tending to the wounded gladiators.

"I have heard that you are Macrinus' new gladiator. It seems the battlefield has taken its toll on you," you remark, approaching the gladiator. Hanno—that is what you heard him called. His blue eyes fix upon you, studying you as though he seeks to unravel your very essence.

"I belong to no one," the gladiator replies, his voice strained as he winces in pain. "But I do appreciate your company. Ravi may be a skilled healer, yet nothing compares to the presence of a beautiful woman." His words are accompanied by a grimace, his arm bearing a wound, likely inflicted by the blade of a sword. Positioning yourself before him, you reach for one of the tools Ravi uses to stitch the torn flesh of gladiators. With steady hands, you then lift a cup of wine laced with opium, offering it to the gladiator to ease his suffering.

The gladiator drinks the wine greedily, allowing the liquid to trickle down his lips. "If my appearance pleases you, I suggest you focus on that," you remark coolly. "For what I am about to do will bring you little satisfaction." Without hesitation, you begin stitching his wound, prompting him to release several groans of pain.

"You seem to take pleasure in causing me pain," he mutters between groans, a chuckle escaping him despite the agony etched across his face.

"Do not misinterpret me so gravely. I take pride in being of service to the recovery of gladiators," you reply while continuing to stitch his wound. "I lost my husband to one of the games orchestrated by Emperors Geta and Caracalla. So rest assured, my dedication lies entirely in aiding you." As you work, his expressions shift, the pain visibly dulling—likely the effects of the wine and opium taking hold. Yet, his hand from the uninjured arm suddenly grips your leg firmly, near your thigh. The gesture appears unintentional. You glance at him, startled.

"Forgive me," he murmurs, withdrawing his hand swiftly, your silent gaze alone conveying your disapproval. "I believe I lost control of my actions for a moment." You offer no verbal response, but the unspoken understanding in your exchange pleases you.

"There are rumors circulating that you have come in search of something," you say, your gaze lingering on the ring adorning the gladiator's finger. "I wonder if what you seek is vengeance—or perhaps a love lost." He lifts his eyes to meet yours, as though carefully crafting the right response.

"Vengeance for a lost love," he finally admits, his voice laden with the fury of grief. "My wife perished under the command of the General." The intensity of his words is mirrored in his eyes, now burning with a hunger that seems insatiable.

A fleeting discomfort stirs within you as his words settle. You owe much to General Acacius; your life, your freedom, and perhaps even a part of your heart are tied to him. He has been nothing but an honorable man in your eyes, despite his marriage to Lucilla. A genuine affection for him lingers within you, though you respect the boundaries of his union.

"Since you do not know me, I feel compelled to warn you—should your vengeance be aimed at General Acacius, you will find no ally in me. I am among the many who will not stand idly by should harm come to him," you declare, finishing your care for his wound.

"Ah, and we have only just met, yet I seem to have displeased you already," the gladiator replies, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "But allow me to ask—if you had the chance to kill the one responsible for your husband's death, would you not take it?"

His gaze is unwavering, piercing into yours. You avert your eyes, exhaling slowly before stepping closer to him. "When my husband died, vengeance had no place in my heart," you say firmly. "I was consumed with fear—wondering which emperor I would be forced to lay with to survive, or whose entertainment I would become. Fortunately, General Acacius spared me from all those fates and ensured I was kept far from the gladiator who killed my husband." Your eyes meet his with an intensity that demands understanding, your voice steady and resolute. He listens in silence, his focus unbroken.

"Then you are indebted to General Acacius," the gladiator remarks, his tone probing as he holds your gaze. You step away, irritation rising within you, though you refuse to admit it aloud.

"You could say so—I am indebted to General Acacius. Does that make you angry with me?" you ask earnestly, taking a cloth soaked in wine and carefully pressing it against the gladiator's wounds.

"No, I do not feel anger toward you," he replies, his voice steady despite the sting of the alcohol against his skin.

"Gladiator, you are ready to fight once more. Should you suffer any wounds in the future and prefer Ravi's care, I will not take offense," you say, finishing your work.

He smiles softly, gradually regaining his composure. "My name is Hanno. You may call me that, and I would like to keep you as the one responsible for my care." Hanno says, taking your hands as if in gratitude.

"I am Y/N, since we are introducing ourselves," you reply. "And since we are being friendly, I will ask a favor of you. If you plan to seek revenge, do it properly. Confront General Acacius in a fair manner, that one of you may die an honorable death."

You hold Hanno's rough hands, hoping to appeal to his sense of reason. "I will take your words into consideration, but I cannot guarantee anything," Hanno responds, his gaze never leaving you.

"I recommend you rest before being taken to your cell. Surely, we will meet again soon," you say as you step away, gathering the healing supplies Ravi entrusted to you.

Hanno bids you farewell, settling down in a corner of the place where you had been tending to him. You leave him there, knowing he will soon be escorted to his cell. Meanwhile, you make your way to General Acacius, as he often summons you when he returns from his campaigns, and you follow him without hesitation.

"Mea domina, I have waited so long for you to come to me..." Marcus Acacius' voice fills the space around you. The setting is a private garden within his residence, shared with Lucilla.

You approach him, adjusting the stole around your body. He moves toward you slowly, holding a goblet of wine in his hands.

"I had to attend to the treatment of one of the gladiators," you speak softly, drawing nearer to him. He extends the goblet to you, and you drink from it. Then, he rises slightly and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I have a wound as well; I would like you to tend to it," General Acacius says, his fingers brushing lightly against his lower lip. Gently, you rise toward him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss so soft it could scarcely be called one. It is delicate, restrained—you have no desire to overstep any boundaries.

"Our charade may now conclude, General Acacius. I believe any servant or guard lingering nearby has been sufficiently convinced by our display of affection," you say, fully aware that this romantic gesture is but a performance to solidify the illusion that you truly belong to him.

"Just a little longer, mea domina," he murmurs, placing his hands gently on your face and pulling you into another kiss. This time, it is more fervent, as though he is intent on committing the feel of your lips to memory.

[capitanogiorgio]

Fanfic ask: 1, 3, 15 and 23 ?

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

I have kind of a top 3, that’s hard to decide ugh... Well, since there’s one I’m gonna use for the next question let’s say it’s a tie between :

Petit Cousin, Grande Fourberies

and

So Baby Just Hold Me

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

I have a few, again. But I quite like that one :

They will have time in the days, months and even years to come to rewatch videos and documentaries of their victory, they will have time to realise just how happy their faces were and how crazy they acted, the sweet conclusion of the game setting them free of any restraint. They will remember they could have gotten injured in the midst of their celebration, leaving all carefulness behind; they will remember they were, if only for a night, the same little kids they all had been when they had first touched a ball and vowed to win the world cup.

They will laugh about it; they will get chills.

(And I’ll Only Need to Hold You - Chapter 6)

15. something you learned this year

I’ve learnt how to write a decent smut scene (shoutout to @desciderabile and her playlist from which I only used Andante Andante so far lmao !), that’s quite something. Also, how to finish a fic challenge in time and finish a multi-chapter fic zqasedrftg

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t 

A few. Mostly Kaamelott fics. These two have stuck with me for about two years now. One is a parallel story between Arthur in Rome and Perceval on a watch in Logres post-Livre VI, both thinking about the other. The second one is a focus on Macrinus and especially his relationship with Aconia. That one I already had about 1.5/2k words written but far from finished. I have written notes for both, a sort of stuff to include, a sort of chronology. But so far I haven’t written a single word.

Thanks for the ask

[pascaloverx]

GLADIATOR MASTERLIST

© credits for the owners of the pictures used. they don't belong to me. credit is not mine for the pictures.

AO3 LINK

PREVIEW

ONE

[pascaloverx]

WARNING

Happy to announce that the fanfic starve and babyboy will receive more chapters soon, I hope you continue reading them. Also let me know your thoughts about one or both the fanfics, I want to know if the fact that you are getting a love triangle in "starve" is interesting OR if the fact that maybe you will get to be a lover for Nicholas in "babyboy" can be good or... you know.

comment here if you are reading any of these fanfics