#then you should be open to the Emperor being the same

[revivisection]

companion piece to @vossn's crime lord zlatko. meet originswap cosmas, aka commissar emmot hyde.

you should pull them up side by side, they're mirrored :)

ramble under the cut. will make a lot more sense if you're already familiar with cosmas lore lol

kept the outfit pretty close to the commissar outfit in game, but i made two decisions that made it still feel like cosmas. the belt goes under the coat rather than over so it doesn't cinch the waist, and the collar is opened up a bit to frame his neck augment (though you can't really see cause it's covered by his hand). i still wanted him to have his mouth scars, but he would've gotten them some other way so i thought it'd be cute if they looked different, arcing down from the corners of his mouth rather than going directly up. he does also still have his metal fingers, but they're covered by his gloves. all his augments look different :)

he lived a different life, he found a different name. the big divergence point is that instead of being thrown into the underhive, he joined the imperial guard in hopes of something better--or maybe he just really wanted to kill things with guns (state-sanctioned style). i think he ends up being a pretty good sniper.

he never would have been able to become a commissar as a regular grunt, so how did he do it? identity theft. he seized an opportunity to better his status by impersonating a dead commissar. he stole his name, stole his title, stole his deeds. stole his gender too. he didn't steal his life in the sense that he was the one who killed the og emmot, but he stole it in another sense of the word.

emmot's life since then has been a constant performance. it's a lie, but it's the kind he's lived so thoroughly it's become true. for all intents and purposes, he is commissar hyde. he's had to think fast and play it extremely careful. instead of cosmas' constant need to prove himself, emmot's existence depends on convincing others.

emmot doesn't have the same freedom as cosmas. where cosmas shaped himself in the chaos of gang wars and shifting allegiances, emmot lives in a rigid hierarchical structure. he's a servant of the imperium, carrying out the emperor's will. he has to conform, he has to follow orders, he has to be a lot more stealth about a lot more things. he's modeled his behaviour after hardass military types rather than criminals, but at his heart he's still a rulebreaker, he's a liar, and he's scum. he just hides it well.

when it came to naming him i wanted something kinda punchy like gaunt and hark's names. going to be repping gaunt's ghosts forever btw. 2 syllable first name, 1 syllable last name, something with a t or a k at the end. i ended up choosing hyde because it was funnyyyyy, like, yeah, guy with something to hide, guy with some strange things going on with his identity, lol. emmot stuck cause i really liked the mouthfeel, it has the hard ending while not being that harsh in sound, and i like the slight letter change from a more common name, very fitting for the setting i think. emmett (possibly) means "truth" lmao. my very trustworthy commissar named truth hider who has never lied to me. i also think emmot still sounds close enough to cosmas, since it keeps the o and the m, while still being distinct.

if you've made it this far. here's the black & white version

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

My Headcanon for Why Emps Banned Religion

I have read none of the books with a heavy Emps focus but I have read a lot about them, including various excerpts, and obviously that's enough to qualify me for making headcanons about him. So here's my big theory:

The religion ban had nothing to do with Chaos, and everything to do with the Emperor himself.

Listen. Listen. We have three facts:

The Emperor is a 38,000-year-old psyker created to defend humanity against Chaos who has dealt directly with the gods. There is no way he doesn't understand how they work.

The Emperor made a deal with Chaos but failed to keep his end of the bargain. This bargain allowed him to create the primarchs, but it also empowered him personally.

The Emperor is the entity prophesied to become the Dark King, the fifth Chaos God.

I think the Emperor was trying to prevent his own ascension by banning religion.

Humanity has a fairly strong connection to the Warp; it's slowly evolving into a psyker species. A single, non-psyker human won't have much effect, but if billions and billions of humans believe the same thing, it will affect the Warp.

Now, pause for a moment and think about what it would be like to encounter the Emperor. I don't just mean walking up to the guy and shaking his hand, I mean just seeing him and being in his vicinity. You're gonna get knocked on your ass by the most intense Warp aura you will ever feel in your life. To put things in perspective, in one of the HH books, Lion makes an entire room of men kneel just by walking in the room. The Emperor is exponentially more powerful than any of the primarchs. The dude hangs out with blanks because they're just too weak to hurt him.

A lot of people are going to process that encounter as a religious experience.

Now, obviously the vast majority of the Imperium's population are never going to see the Emperor. But millions and millions of people will still go through this experience. We don't see much of this because the HH series takes place when the Emperor retreats to Terra to work on the Webway. Prior to that, he would have been a public figure--giving speeches, holding triumphs, leading armies, going to summits, etc etc etc. There would be a steady stream of people walking away shaken to the core because they decided to go to a big parade or whatever.

Now, add to that his utopian mission (the Imperium will unify the galaxy and create a golden age of humanity! yay!), the cult of personality, and the fact that some planets really would have greeted the Imperium's arrival with joy...

Look, someone's gonna start a new religion. Maybe multiple someones. And you had better believe it's gonna spread because "huh that there is some kind of divine being" is a pretty understandable response to Big E and his Slightly Less Big Sons.

Thing is, the Big E in question knows about the Dark King prophecy, knows how the warp works, and knows he's as much a Warp entity as he is human. If increasing number of humans believe that he's a god, all that belief is gonna pour into the Warp, and eventually it's gonna affect the very nature of his being. Him, who already has prophecies about a divine ascension floating around. GEE WOW COULD THESE THINGS BE RELATED, WHAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN NEXT.

The Emperor really, really doesn't want to become a Chaos god. The Emperor is extremely anti-Chaos. So it is absolutely vital that no one starts worshipping him because the risk is too great, and too much is at stake.

The solution? Ban religion.

See, he can't just allow freedom of religion because statistically speaking, someone's gonna start worshipping him. And he can't start a state religion, because that associates his person with the official religion, and then he'll get turned into a saint or a minor god or something. For fucks sake, the Catherics still venerate St. Vladimir and they don't even know what Russia is! Yeah, official religion is straight out. Honestly, the big problem here is the whole tendency to worship giant miracle-working people with overwhelming Warp signatures. That's what really needs to be targeted. A vigorous program of rationality combined with a strict ban on religion will discourage both the practices and the thought processes that lead to Emperor worship. Humanity will learn to trust SCIENCE and FACTS rather than seeking comfort from silly old superstitions. That is definitely how human psychology works.

The downside of this policy is that he cannot acknowledge Chaos. Acknowledging that big spooky supernatural entities with godlike powers exist severely undermines the whole premise. But the aftershocks of Slaanesh's birth have mostly worn off by now, the Warp is pretty quiet these days, and frankly speaking there is so much Weird Shit in the Materium that the occasional daemon can be written off as wacky xenos hijinks. Plus, the general drive away from religion will also drive humanity away from Chaos worship. It's a bit of a gamble to deny Chaos, but all things considered it's a safe one.

So Emps bans religion and starts his totally-not-a-religious Crusade to unify the galaxy and find his sons. Everything is going great! Chaos has barely made a peep and rationality is blossoming on all the human planets. The way things are going, Emps might even get a head start on that Webway--

Uhhhhhhh. That's. That's a nice religion you invented there, newly-found son. You know it's gonna have to go in the trash, right? Atheism is kind of our thing.

what is this what are you writing about

LORGAR WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?

Yeah so Emps flips the fuck out. This is literally what he was trying to avoid, and it is the worst case scenario. Not only has an Emperor-worshipping religion sprung up, but one of his sons--y'know, the insanely charismatic monstrosities with crazy Warp signatures that he made--is the one who started it! This has to be stopped, and it has to be stopped HARD. Breaking Lorgar isn't enough. Emps has to break his religion.

And you know the rest.

************************************************************************

LINGERING QUESTIONS:

Q: If Emps was so hellbent on preventing a religion from springing up around him, why did he build a cult of personality?

A: He's an authoritarian dick, of course he's going to build a cult of personality. And of course he's going to convince himself that the cult of personality is necessary, and that it won't conflict with his anti-religion agenda. That's how authoritarian dicks think.

Q: Then why was he ready to become the Dark Lord in TEatD II?

A: Damage control. Emps didn't have the power to take on All Of Chaos Wearing Horus. So if he didn't ascend, he'd be consigning humanity to subservience at best to extremely hostile entities. But if he did ascend, then he might still be able protect humanity even as a horrifying Warp monstrosity. The Emperor will always choose the option that (he thinks) is best for humanity even at the cost of himself. But that's a whole other post.

LAST TIME: Emps has a really fucked up sense of time.

NEXT TIME: Why is the Emperor Like That?

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Fall of an Empire

Summary: The fall of an empire began because of the love for a woman.

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader (romantic), Emperor Caracalla x Reader (platonic)

A/N: I will be honest, wish I had written this as soon as I left theaters but it's as good as I could make it. 😅

Warning: Major character deaths and some movie spoilers if you haven't seen it yet

Divider credits @saradika

It was never meant for her.

To most onlookers, it became quite obvious that should anything ever happen to the empress, that it would not take long for the twin emperors to descend into madness. The two had a penchant for violence, one that was difficult for them to be ever satisfied and somehow it came to be that Geta, was consumed by the love and affection he held for his wife from the moment their eyes met on the day they were wed.

While Caracalla viewed her with a brotherly love, calling her sister the day they met and appreciating her all the more when she gifted him with his prized monkey Dondas. Her gentle but firm hand was quick to soften the temper of the brothers, there was still a madness that brewed beneath the surface and all knew, it would all turn to ruin should anything befall the young empress.

She shouldn't have been there that day.

Still in the early months, the empress' pregnancy was an open secret amongst everyone in the senate and many were cautious to incur the wrath of their emperors as their protectiveness seemed to reach even greater heights than was the norm. Her recent symptoms had her spending much more time in the royal couples chambers, hiding away to let the nauseousness abate. The same symptom that had kept her from being by the side of her husband and brother by law during the first initial days of games in the colosseum meant to celebrate the conquest of Numidia.

The fateful day had begun like most in its mundanity for the young Emperor Geta and his lovely wife (Y/N), both rousing slowly with the rise of Helios in the sky with their legs tangled together and in a tender warm embrace as they had slept. Geta was careful to cradle his wife in his arms, his hands languidly caressing her small bump that had only recently begun to show in recent weeks.

"How is the little one treating you this morning, beloved?" Geta whispered between soft kisses to her neck.

Stretching tiredly, she cupped his cheek in her hand, "Much better than usual. I think the concoction made by the healer has finally had an effect because I actual feel like joining you and Caracalla today."

"Are you certain?" he asked softly. "There's no need for you to join us if you aren't feeling up to the task. I can come up with another excuse if needed."

"Stop fussing, my love" she giggled. "I truly feel leagues better and the gladiators will be fighting by water today, do you think I would want to miss such a feat?"

His brow creased in uncertainty. He knew that if his wife was truly not up to the task of being by his side that she would make it known. But there was an uneasiness that he couldn't seem to shake off.

He gently untangled himself from their loving embrace, quickly dressing himself in a robe and took strides to the jeweled chest atop of her vanity, clutching the box to his chest and returning to her side. Carefully, Geta helped his wife put on her jewelry and pressing a kiss to her hands or lips for every adornment that he placed on her.

"Your well being is my top priority," he said kneeled by her side. "The moment that you feel anything amiss, we leave. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my love" she conceded with a smile.

Geta wasn't given a chance to say anything more as the doors to their chambers were pushed open by none other than Caracalla. The younger brother giggling in amusement when he stepped in.

"Lovely morrow for a bit of violence and blood, wouldn't you say brother? Will my radiant sister join us at last or has your little parasite incapacitated her once more?"

"I will be with both of you, little brother" (Y/N) said gently. "And please refrain from calling your niece or nephew a parasite, you wouldn't want to upset them before they have even arrived."

Caracalla waved her off and smiled, "The little parasite can complain when they're older. Until then, I can call them whatever I like because they seem to enjoy making you suffer." He leaned down and spoke to the small bump, "You'll be an absolute menace, isn't that right little parasite?"

Geta huffed out in mild annoyance and began to push his brother out of the room, "You can make more complaints about my progeny later. My wife and I are still not dressed."

"Oh, I don't mind staying."

"We will see you in the colosseum brother," Geta said with a shove and closing the doors. When they were shut, he turned back to his wife. "Let us make haste then before he tries to come bother again."

It was chaos below in the arena, the barbarian Hanno had led his group of men into ramming their boat against the opposing side and there was so much to see that it all became difficult to track. Smoke from the flames burning the boat made the task near impossible, but it didn't stop the adrenaline from coursing the veins of the young emperors from the glimpses they could see.

"My love," the empress called to her husband in worry. "They're too close, it's too close. We must leave or take caution, the men and boats are too close."

"Don't make such a fuss, sister" Caracalla said but his gaze stayed on the carnage below. "Things are getting interesting."

Below their sight, Hanno had a crossbow in his hands with the clear intent of killing the General Acacius. The aforementioned man had no chance to warn his empress that was seated in front of him of the gladiators intentions.

It all happened so fast.

It was an accident.

The crossbow was jostled in Hanno's hands as the arrow was let loose and it struck dead center between the two emperors.

And into the empress' chest.

The two men screamed in horror, unused to the violence being so close and it having any true impact to them. Caracalla was hysterical as guards pulled him away; screeching, hitting, and calling for something to be done for his sister. While Geta was enraged as he tried to temper his emotions and pushing the guards aside.

"Everything will be alright, wife" Geta said as he held his wife's hand in his own that trembled. "We will bring the healer and then find the gladiator that is to be dealt with!"

The empress could not respond, choking on her blood as she tried to reach for her husbands face before her final breath left her body.

When she went limp in his grasp, there was no halting the enraged wail from Geta as he lost his beloved bride and unborn child in a single moment.

Nothing could stop the spiral of destruction that followed the demise of the empress.

It was General Acacius' fault as the arrow was meant for him.

It was Lucillas fault for birthing the bastard that did it.

It was their fault

It was THEIR fault

It was Geta's fault.

Or so Caracalla's mind was led to believe as he and his brother sought refuge away from the hordes of people that sought to remove them from their seats of power.

His beloved sister (Y/N) and her little parasite were gone because Geta had failed to protect them.

Dondas and he would soon follow if Geta was permitted to reign alongside him any longer.

With every slash, the voices calmed in Caracalla's mind, and it soothed him to see the same rivers of blood flow down his brother's chest just as he had seen happen to his lovely sister.

Geta although unwilling, was to be reunited with his wife and child.

Caracalla would join them soon enough.

[another-argo]

open starter

who am I?

(sorry this is long asf)

Argo.

He stares into the mirror of his bathroom. That's who's looking back at him. That's Argo. A faded scar on the left side of his face, sharp canines that look like fangs. Argo has deep brown eyes, deep rooted trust issues- and truly thinks he would be better off if everyone left him alone. Argo brings tragedy everywhere he goes. Argo has never talked to Hermes- and he assumes he never will. He's never been claimed, either. All he has is his shape-shifting and his jansport.

Argo has deep brown, short hair. And.. wings. Big wings.

Luna.

Luna is younger than Argo by a few years. She has an innocent smile, the same scar- just.. newer. She hasn't learned not to trust yet. She has plenty of friends! She has all the bracelets to prove it! But, she knows they all just see her as a kid.

Her eyes are a bright blue, her hair is long and blonde. Her fangs are duller, more like a dog than a cat.

She has wings as well, they're just smaller- more proportionate to her body than Argo.

Atticus.

That's a name nobody's heard in a while.

Golden eyes, fangs like a wolf and dirty blonde hair. His scar was healed; unlike Luna's.. but it was cut open- bleeding with.. what seems like golden ichor. Right, this isn't Argo- this isn't really a.. mortal. This is a combination between a demigod and godly beings. A puppet.

And he has no wings, but he does have strings.

The three are having a conversation- which should be impossible.. but it's happening.

Argo has split his bathroom mirror in half, Luna on one side- Atticus the other.

"We need to be democratic about this-" Argo is the only one on the outside of the mirror; his body is the only one physically there. "I. I barely remember anything. I remember vague stuff- I'm just getting.. absolutely horrendous vibes from you." Argo gestures to Atticus.

"WHAT?? What the fuck man! You give bad vibes!"

"I will smash your mirror-"

"BOYS! You're both pretty!" Luna snickers, cutting off the other two. "I say that since I remember the most- I should get control!"

"But you're a baby. I don't know how being mentally 12 and physically almost 15 will work. Plus, you've already pissed off Nero, and none of my friends like you- because they think you're stealing my spot."

"But-"

"No! No puppy dog eyes. Stop that. Stop it. I'm looking away."

Argo crosses his arms, looking away- and sees the door. He could just leave.

Guilt.

He sighs, turning back towards the mirrors.

He takes a deep breath, and takes Luna's portion of the mirror- staring into it.

Suddenly- you watch as Argo turns into Luna, then himself, then Luna.. then finally something strange.

They look Argo's age. 14, almost 15- with one brown and one blue eye. They have the facial and back wings; still an angelic white.

The front of their hair is Luna's brassy blonde- the back is Argo's dark brown. It's as long as Luna's was.. about to mid back- with Argo's bangs in the front.

They look up- propping themself up with their prosthetic arm.

"Hi." They definitely sound like Argo. "Who are.. you- I just need a name. Sorry. And- how long have you been there?"

ANYONE CAN INTERACT

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @orion-the-hunterpt2 @lilacnightshade @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss

[cercandodiscrivere]

Stat vindicta potens | emperor geta x reader.

word count | 2.4k

warnings | 18+, NSFW, concubines, demeaning terms, dark themes (dubious consent, violence, blood, mentions of war), porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | When the twin Emperors had entered the room—filled with musicians and dancers and food you had dared not touch—you had stood as rigid as stone. It had been the same visceral feeling as when you had first seen the Romans approach your home: a deep, clawing desire not to be seen.

Except now, you had to be seen. You were part of the spectacle.

gifs by @batty4steddie

Stat vindicta potens, et adhuc crudelibus ausis respondet poena.

[Vengeance stands powerful, and still punishment answers to cruel deeds]

There had been no pain.

No.

There had been pain—so much that it constricted your lungs and scratched your throat—but not enough time to feel it.

Once, your father had praised the gods for his wealth, a fortune earned through the trade of fine goods; he had adorned you with corals and pearls, a living testament to his success.

Still adorned with the rich jewels he bought, you had walked into Rome wearing a stola stained with his blood.

You had thought an Emperor would choose his gifts himself—or rather, you had never thought about it at all, not until it was you who had been chosen.

It was a strange way to begin a new life: not through the predictable choices of your father, but through the whims of strangers in a far-off land. Your brothers, dead in battle, had been of no use to you as their wealth crumbled and the last of their possessions were taken. General Acacius had claimed what little was left—and he had gifted you to the Emperors. 

A token of friendship. 

A spoil of war.

Tuis nec parcitur umbris.

[Your shadows are not spared.]

Another servant had dressed you in a woolen tunic and had styled your hair.

You would have to learn how to do it yourself in time, she had warned, but first they had  to gauge your worth — after all, there would be no point in teaching anything to a gift that had no use.

"What should I do?" you had asked her. 

"Serve wine”. 

Dread had filled your loins as soon as you had set your eyes upon the imperial palatium. Shining in the sun, the marble stairs had welcomed you—not like the arms of a mother, but like the open doors of an adorned crypt.

It was then that you had come to understand another truth: General Acacius had been nothing more than a weapon wielded by others. When a sword cuts through your flesh, it’s not the blade you fear, but the pair of hands that guide it.

"How?" you had asked again, but she refused to answer.

Non impune feres: seris venit aspera pœnis retributio. 

[You will not bear it unpunished: a harsh retribution for your crimes will come in time.]

When the twin Emperors had entered the room—filled with musicians and dancers and food you had dared not touch—you had stood as rigid as stone. It had been the same visceral feeling as when you had first seen the Romans approach your home: a deep, clawing desire not to be seen.

Except now, you had to be seen. You were part of the spectacle.

You had served wine before—to your father, your brothers and their guests. You had poured before the same kind of deep red wine: but the hands that had to do it now had changed, and the weight of the eyes on you had pressed harder. 

You had approached your captors carefully, your gaze lowered in deference—but unseen, as they had sat on their adorned thrones, draped in robes of golds and reds, without sparing you a glance.

At the time, you had not known how to tell them apart; both could have been either Geta or Caracalla, as their names had meant nothing to the terror they equally inspired.

The first you poured wine to had ignored the cup, his attention fixed on the man seated to his left. Once, you might have sneered at the lack of a compliment - now, the gift of being nothing to him had washed over you like fresh air (but still stung like a silent mockery). To the man, it had been as though the wine had fallen into his goblet by the gods’ will alone.

Then, you had moved on to his brother — and instead his gaze had lingered, sharp and unwavering. 

"Is there a trick to it?" he had mused, his voice low, almost to himself. You had frozen in place, as still as the statues scattered around the room. For a moment, you had almost believed the Emperor had just asked you how to pour wine — and your gaze had flicked upward, an instinctive mistake. 

His face had surprised you: it was not an imposing man who owned you, not a fierce general or a quiet sage — but a rabid dog, sick and weak in his silks. His eyes, red-rimmed and glazed with white, remained unseeing.

"How does one keep something" he had murmured, "when it feels as if it may slip away at any moment?".

But yet again, it had not been you he had been asking. Was it treason to leave an emperor’s question unanswered, when he posed it to the air?

And then, through the suffocating fear, a streak of something darker had twisted in your chest—rage, hot and sudden. You had had men and women alike ingratiating themselves to you, hoping for nought but a smile: and now an ill animal, with his teeth stained in gold and spit and blood, could bite your neck and move on without a thought.

You had measured your words, then. "As the poet says, fortune is like the winds: fickle, but a friend to those who know how to steer."

And if he had truly understood the meaning of your words—that you did not think him a steerer, not a good one—you could have signed your death with feigned servitude. 

But the Emperor (Caracalla, as you would learn later) had just blinked and chuckled. Shrill and sharp, it had not been a laugh born of humor, but something else: as if he had found mirth in you speaking at all, not a thought spared to the words you had used.

He had then drunk from his goblet as if nothing had happened—and yet, seated next to him, his brother had heard and not laughed. 

Emperor Geta’s gaze had lingered on you: no amusement in his eyes, no warmth.

Fatis pendebis, ficta modestia. 

[You will hang by fate, with feigned modesty.]

You once thought an Emperor would choose his gifts himself—and that’s what Geta did with you.

No hope for burning passions, no overwhelming closeness: this time someone thought it fit to have you learn about your role, because a concubine must please more than a servant.

“You’re less talkative than before”.

Emperor Geta lounges on his lectus, cushions surrounding him. In the soft light filtering through the curtains, his ginger curls seem molten gold—a physical extension of his crown, a birthright to power.

Your started your private encounter like you had started the first: not draped in a rough wooden tunic, but still pouring wine into his cup.

You spent more than one night wondering what had caught his attention, and how he must have heard your exchange with his brother: and whether it was the words he understood, or the venom laced in them, the result still has you in his bedchambers.

“I don’t want to spill a drop” you lie.

He observes you pouring his wine as if it were a religious rite. You try not to care: you pour and pour —and by the time the cup is full, you have emptied your head of all the thoughts and the dread that filled you.

“You won’t” he says. It’s endearing, almost like a compliment, but not quite. “Drink with me.”

He’s not asking.

Drinking in front of him (taking a quick gulp that barely registers the taste) feels as much a part of the ritual as the wine he offers: a play to show you what he can give you, should you continue to play his game.

"How does it taste?”. Geta's voice is as soft as a caress: it’s unsettling, how sweet he is choosing to be. 

You stare down at the large goblet you just filled with thick, red liquid: wine, herbs, and honey—the kind you would have enjoyed in another life. "It's great."

"Only the best for us" he says—and you know, by instinct alone, that us means him and his brother. The remark almost makes you raise your goblet in a toast, but you fear it might come across as mocking. All the rage that Caracalla ignited in you, Geta suppresses with dread.

He watches you as you pass the goblet back, because he is always watching.

Your eyes, your chest, your hands. You know you barely look like your old self now—before purple silks and face paints and ornati crines. A shiver escapes you: if you had thought of his brother as a rabid dog, you don’t know how to describe the quiet madness behind Geta’s gaze.

A predatory smile twists his lips, the kind that reveals his teeth and narrows his eyes with a hint of delight. You try not to let any old rage show on your face, knowing he would easily pick it up—but every pass of his eyes screams satisfaction.

His head cocks to the side as he regards you. “Your lips are stained" he observes instead.

When he rises from the lectus, his movements are deliberate. Even in the privacy of his own rooms, servants dismissed and gone, he still carries himself as if an audience is present—so much so, you wonder what kind of untold he feels the need to hide in the presence of a concubine.

Emperor Geta pauses before you, and you let him taste the flavor of the wine off your lips. His kiss is almost too sweet—and his command comes next.

“Undress me”. 

Someone must have started the task, for he wears only a linen tunic; a servant must have helped him with that, while others lit the incense that now thickens the air in the room. It's an oily smell, suffocating—mixing poorly with whatever herbs had been added to the rich wine.

“As you wish, domine”. The term makes his eyes roll toward the drapes above your heads.

You know some concubines call Caracalla Carus as an endearing term. A bold young man had boasted to you how he called him regina once —going into detail about how much the Emperor liked it, though few had believed him.

You dare not try the same with his twin.

After the tunic falls to the ground with a soft thud, you let Geta guide you to sit on his bed. You let him undo the braids in your hair and take your own tunic off your shoulders; the multitude of bracelets and anklets he had his servants put on you stay on.

He does not turn you to face him when lays you down on the bed, as your own nails dig into your palms and his head bows low into your hair. 

You don't say no. You could not say no if you wanted to.

So when your knees are firm on the mattress, and you feel his weight behind you, you take the small liberty of parting your own legs. If he appreciates the gesture, he does not say: with a palm he pushes on your back until your bare chest is touching the linens, his hand sliding slowly back to your hips.

It is not the first time you’ve lain with a man — a stain on your pudicitia that your father would have abhorred, and one that Geta does not even question.

Your sigh is one of relief when you feel him push into you, because this is what you have been waiting for since you had been brought to his bedchambers: not the his little scene with the wine, not his feigned sweetness, not his long stares.

“I suppose that’s all what you wanted” he grunts, his lips caressing your collarbone. His hips trusts into you so hard that the anklets on your legs clash against each other, creating a soft  and clinking sound. 

Tink-tink-tink. You don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. 

The soft kisses he peppers behind your neck are nothing like the way he thrusts into you. As he moves you grip the pillows, the linens, your own arms—whatever you can find to steady yourself.

"This is what you wanted" he continues, his deep breaths coming out fast. “When he gifted you to us”.

Faster, he's going faster. The meaning of his words is not lost on you: that he may have taken your hatred for lust, your insult for a praise. That if Caracalla had shown the same interest he would have left you to him —because you were equally one’s and the other’s. 

But Caracalla hadn’t cared for a servant and her poets; and his twin was not one to let a good gift go to waste.

Your thighs squeeze around him —and even if you command yourself not to say a word, it’s like the small yes escapes on its own. Let him believe whatever he wants; let him give you thought and purpose, as long as he keeps moving. 

He growls his approval — and then he throws himself to the pillows that had been your anchor up until that moment, and pulls you on top of him. 

At this angle and lighting, he looks divine.

Everything about him turns to gold under the sunlight: it serves to remind you of what he is, and what his people allow him to do. You loathe how much you admire the view as you sink down onto him, cataloging all the ways the muscles in his face shift when he is lost in pleasure.

“You were such a good gift to us”. 

Your skin crawls at the praise and you push up on his chest, bringing your hips down quicker and quicker ad quicker. 

The lingering presence of Caracalla in the rooms — even if only through the us Geta keeps referring to—ignites you, and you are furious once again. The heat of it washes over your naked skin, waking you up from your subservient slumber. 

You feel Geta twitch within you as you slam into his hips one final time, his fingers sinking deep into your hips. You cherish that feeling: it’s sobering, for it means tomorrow you will still be alive—not as a servant but something more, the future the three Fates have woven for you clearer and clearer. 

As he comes and grunts, your thoughts wander. 

Geta on his knees, his throat slit. Blood gushing from him, as dark as the wine he had you taste.

Geta scared: you over him, not as an object of pleasure, but as the extension of Nemesis herself.

Geta powerless.

Geta defeated.

Geta enslaved—and it’s with that last thought, with that image, that you come.

Quis dabit exitio tantos, scelerate, triumphos?

[Who will give such triumphs for your destruction, wicked one?]

[midnightwerewoolf]

Episode 9 of season 2? Fucking delicious man. Fantastic, it was well done, it was horrifying and I EAT THAT SHIT UP.

Spoilers and warnings for what I'm about to say: (cw: Pedophilia, sexual assault.)

Lovelies, it's here. The exact episode I was waiting for.

Anshi being shown as a kid was heavy, her going to the emperor and asking if he was okay, becoming the only thing he could see... It was disgusting.

The former emperor was a weak and pathetic man who was controlled by his own mother, he couldn't talk with adult women, being touched by a woman would send him into a complete hysterical panic attack. He didn't have any power when he was around someone who was of age, but you know who he was able to talk to and had more power over?

The fact that we are told and shown that Anshi was not his only victim, that there was someone before her but because she gave birth to a girl she was completely ignored and the baby was given to someone else to take the fall. That because Anshi gave birth to a boy the empress recognized the baby as her grandson should probably give you an idea of how strong her hold on the throne actually was and how many of her decisions ended up affecting not only our main characters, or even just the royal family... But also the populace.

They sent CHILDREN just to cater to the emperor's tastes, not caring about them as children but as bargaining chips for power.

And Anshi, someone who was also sent for this reason loathed this, the moment she lost her young child face, the way we see her grow into an adult and not look like a little girl anymore only to be discarded by the man who abused her and look for smaller and younger girls than her, the complete fucking disgrace of being treated as a disposable object was more than enough to break her.

And in a horrifying move, the cycle repeats through her forcing herself on the pathetic man who raped her, the reason she had to be cut open to deliver a baby, the reason she was sold off for power, to burn herself into his memory, to not let HIM forget the pain and trauma he made her go through. (And in a way, she succeeded.)

No wonder the empress had no love for her own flesh and blood when he was born, but the baby another concubine gave birth to during the same day, the one who was not a product of her own assault on that man but rather came from her actual son and his lover? She could give him all the love he needed while the son she couldn't love could get all he needed from Ah-Duo.

And the more little Jinshi grew and started to resemble his grandfather, the more Anshi felt the need for him to not resemble HIM.

Any thing he had an attachment towards had to be taken away, in an attempt to make him grow up and not become the same monster her abuser was, for Jinshi to be able to be strong and resilient. A different type of abuse born out of the scars of a woman who was left traumatized, but unlike the former emperor you can see he does hold love for her as his mother, that while being able to hide his own childish tendencies he's able to stand up on his own feet and retain a face of serenity right in front of danger and will actively protect that which is dear to him. That's the type of man he would become, and he doesn't hold this against her, recognizing her pain and love at the same time.

We can also see how the current emperor was affected by this, knowing his mother was young when she had him and how he himself avoids turning into the same person by choosing women who are actually of age and more developed in the chest area. He would never make the same mistakes his father committed but he would still listen to the women in his life and take their advice.

It says a lot about how much the actions of the former emperor and his mother have affected their family, and while there's still a lot more to learn about them and understand about, the ghosts of their actions will continue to haunt them and no amount of context will actually fix the pain they have already inflicted upon others.

[angelltheninth]

Emperor Geta Fucks You During a Feast

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, throne sex, mouth fingering, cockwarming, teasing, clit stimulation, name-calling, objectification, cockwarming, power imbalance, creampie, being watched

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Uh... well... you see... there's a good explanation for this. I just haven't thought of it yet.

Your dynamic was simple: when your Emperor wants you. you show up. It doesn't matter if it's morning, night or right now, in the middle of a feast. At least you weren't the only one being fucked in public, but you were the only one being fucked on the throne, definitely catching more attention than the rest.

"But you like it." Geta mocked you as his fingers found and pinched your sensitive clit, causing a ripple of pain and pleasure. "Your cunt is so tight around me. A whore like yourself, greedy, hungry for her Emperor's cock. Where do you get such audacity?" He licked the side of your neck, tasting the salty sweat on your skin.

"I... I'm sorry, when you summoned me I just... ah! Oh! Oh Gods!" You gasped and writhed as you felt his hips rutting against the swell of your ass, his cock pushing even further inside of you, scraping and claiming your inner walls. "Got excited." The confession trembled on your lips.

Emperor Geta cackled loudly, prompting others to do the same, even those who weren't close enough to hear you. His wet fingers trailed up your body, stopping briefly to pinch your nipples before prying your mouth open more, dragging against your tongue and then being shoved roughly down your throat.

His other hand then lowered back between your legs, not leaving your aching clit neglected for longer than a few second. He wouldn't let you rest so easily.

As your hips moved against his hand and your pussy made sloppy, dirty sounds every time his cock moved in and out you felt his lips brush against your ear. "Excited. You should be honored that your Emperor's seed will grace your womb. A common slut like you, that's only good for being fucked and used like a set of holes you are. Be thankful."

"T-Thank you, Emperor Geta!" He flicked your clit in warning, not yet fully satisfied with your words. "Thank you for using me to bring you pleasure! Thank you for letting me serve you! Thank you for giving me your seed, in front of everyone!" Your words triggered a chain reaction, first his cock, pulsing as it shot ropes of cum into you, claiming your cunt and your womb. And second your soft, gummy walls clenching around your Emperor's hard cock, your body going slack against his, your head turned and mouth claimed by his as well.

"My sweet little thing. You pleased me today." He whispered and wrapped his arms possessively around you. "Stay right here. Let's sit back and enjoy the show."

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[gatorbites-imagines]

Coming in here on hands and knees begging for evil emperor mark info. I want that emperor OBLITERATED.

He's not super fleshed out, but evil emperor mark rose to the top through violence and smarts. He's always been smarter and more thought out than the average mark, so even back when he was just invincible, hero of earth, mark had major plans for what to do and the future.

He acted, for the most part. He didn't actually care too much about humanity, only really his mom and William, and he had no interest in eve outside of "well, we'd make great offspring". Maybe Nolan was a little more open about viltrum with his son, after catching mark killing insects or making comments about how people should just die, when watching the news or movies.

In the beginning he just wanted to take over earth, just because he could, so he played the role of the perfect hero. Until he learned about viltrum, their empire, and the fact that they have an emperor, then he wanted THAT.

He's very selfish and possessive, he wants power, he wants rank, he wants to be feared and admired. But he also wants someone to keep up with him, a rival if you prefer, someone to keep him on his toes. Be it in physical battle, battle of the mind, or in bed.

Evil emperor mark likes being the best at everything, and he's at least a thousand years old when we meet him, so he's picked up a lot of different talents. Like music, art, architecture, agriculture, etc etc. he starts homesteading when joining the harem, to one up the other marks.

Emperor mark doesn't see sex as something for pleasure, at least until he ends up in the harem. Before that, it's treated like a fight, where he will bottom yes, but he is in no way submissive. He ends up completely changing the status quo of bottoms across the Galaxy cuz he's a known bottom, but a very very dominant bottom 😭

He's also got the greatest ass and body you've ever seen, soft in the right places, hard in the right places, he's like a sculpture made out of the most beautiful marble. All the scars littering his body is seen as attractive by him too, so he loves showing off.

He likes showing off, wearing jewelry and being pretty, but also handsome at the same time. The only time he's ever had kids in his original dimension, was so they could grow up and he could fight them. It's never him that was pregnant in his universe, as he saw that as beneath him.

Evil emperor mark is thraggs size or maybe a little bigger, and even stronger than thragg was. He killed thragg for his title, and the two might have banged once or twice before mark killed him like a female praying mantis when done mating.

[solspina]

Rating primarchs based on how good of a boyfriend they would be

full send no context

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus : 8/10

He’s a nice guy for the most part, very charismatic and though very goal focused he’s also kind and open to those he’s closest to. Outwardly, he’s very straightforward, stern, and absolutely ruthless to his enemies. There’s humanity within him though, and he won’t keep his friendly, loving demeanor away from those who deserve it. Find him at a celebratory event, drunk with Sanguinius, moments in which he’s full of nothing but laughter and love for his brothers and the one who stands beside him. His love language is quality time.

Leman Russ : 4/10 (negotiable)

Though he knows love, it seems to be quite strictly familial. He’s described often as ruthless and barbaric, naive and braggish. If you can put up with things like that, I’m sure he would be a fine boyfriend. Similarly enough though, he’s had many women try to court him all at once, and successfully. I can’t promise his loyalty if someone better looking comes along, as no one ever taught him the importance of that. Outside of the constant, lingering fear of replacement, he can have his caring and understanding moments, occasionally bringing you gifts from crusades and sieges on other planets. Maybe his loyalty to the emperor would apply to his lover too, if you tell him what it means to you. His love language is gift giving.

Ferrus Manus : 7/10

Rage is his fatal flaw if we’re being honest. Not towards you, but towards battle. Toward you I imagine he would be more straightforward and honest, though trustworthy and strong willed to make your relationship work. Loyalty will never ever ever be an issue with him, but it seems like he spends more time with war and battle than he does you. He spends time with you when he can, though, and he truly does care. Points off for his temper. He gave his brothers personalized gifts, and i’m sure he would go through many lengths to do the same for you. His love language is gift giving.

Fulgrim: 6/10

He’s constantly trying to be perfect, and he wants whoever he’s with to be perfect too. A lot of the time, it gets to his head. He can be incredibly ignorant quite often, and isn’t very considerate of your feelings. You’re more of an idol to him, a model. You’re human, so he sees you as perfect, something he and his people should strive to be like. Youre idealized, and under rose tinted lenses, this looks a lot like love… Lots of acts of service and gift giving.

Vulkan : 10/10

The only man you will ever need point blank period. He’s patient, he’s empathetic, he’s kind, he’s humane. He’s incredibly easy to love, and he truly is beloved. The Salamanders love you too, sometimes listening to your commands as if they were his. You’re respected as long as you’re under his arm. He wants to understand the way humans feel, especially understand the reason they wrap their arms around each other and sleep with their bodies entwined at night. His love language is physical touch.

Rogal Dorn : 6/10

He’s incredibly loyal, and also incredibly honest, but his seriousness can get in the way sometimes. You love him, very much, but there are times you get into petty arguments and he has to go consult Horus and Sanguinius for advice on what to do. He’s also very reserved at times, a lot like a single dad who’s just doing his best to keep his job and go about his day. Acts of service would be his love language.

Roboute Guilliman : 9/10

Guilliman is a great boyfriend, a great tactician, a great warrior, all of the above. The only reason i’d take a point off is because I believe he may be a little arrogant at times. He believes that his way is the right way, but he’s usually willing to listen to you and your concerns. He’s incredibly intelligent, very sympathetic and understanding of human trials and concerns, and he’s a lot like we are modern times. I think he would look for comfort in a significant other, and his love language is likely acts of service.

Magnus the Red : 3/10

Another man that I don’t recommend being with. He’s more arrogant than Fulgrim. When I said Guilliman believes his way is the right way, Magnus takes it a step up. He thinks he’s ALWAYS right. He cares, and he means well, but he’s way too much to put up with. Highly manipulative and self absorbed, don’t put yourself in that situation. He values knowledge more than he does you.

Sanguinius : 10/10

Besides the fact he’s a vampire, you’re probably the most safe with him. He genuinely cares for you and your well-being, and sleeping next to him at night with his wing draped over you is an absolute dream in a universe plagued by war. His sons may fall to their bloodthirst when they’re on the home ship, and Sanguinius is fast to wrap himself around his human partner and protect them from any and all harm. You hold him through his sorrow every time a mass of humans or his sons lose their lives, and you watch him kneel to offer you his loyalty and unconditional love rather than you offering it to him. He gives both physical touch and words of affirmation.

Lion El’Jonson : 7/10

Of course he has his moments where he can come off as aloof and paranoid, but that’s for the most part only on the battlefield. Outside, he’s incredibly charming and charismatic, but in a noble way. When his paranoia gets to him after an argument, he seeks out Sanguinius and Horus for advice, wanting nothing more to fix your relationship and solve whatever went wrong. He become more secretive as time goes on, but old habits die hard. I believe he’d offer acts of service.

Perturabo : 6/10

He’s incredibly smart, but finds relating to you and your human tendencies incredibly difficult. His moods can shift and change rapidly and violently, but I believe he means you no true harm. He would never hurt you intentionally, often opting to back away and give himself space, sometimes for days. He never returns to you without a mechanically engineered gift, though, one of his design. Alongside a very gentle hug and a conversation about how you care about him, what he loves. You love him, not for his usefulness to the emperor, but for him. His love language is definitely gift giving.

Mortarion : 8/10

He’s very confused as to why you would choose him. He’s disgusting, an abomination, he hated everything from psykers to his oppressors, what did anything matter if he would be left to the mercy of another oppressor anyways? All thoughts he had until he met you. He was cold and hateful to you at first, untrusting, and yet you showed him kindness. You showed him kindness over and over again. For once, it wasn’t just a one time thing. You’re the only thing in this universe who sees him as more than a warlord, more than the embodiment of death itself, so for you he has a soft spot. He hates the idea of having a human curl up next to him, absorbing his warmth and disease alike… and yet you do. You remind him that his touch is not deadly, and he too is capable of humanity. He will be more considerate of his decisions, because for once, something matters. His love language is physical touch, because he’s been deprived for so long, you’re the only one who allows him that piece of humanity.

Lorgar : 5/10

Does he love you? Does he not? No… He needs you… Maybe he just needs space actually.He loves you, he really does, and by god he tries his best, but when you’re as impulsive and indecisive as he is, it’s hard to know sometimes. If you’re okay with it working 50% of the time, maybe more maybe less, I’m sure you’ll be fine. His love language is… uh… well?

Jaghatai Khan : 7/10

Loyal, decently humble, and a relatively peaceful man. Outside of war, he has potential to be great to you. When war is his focus, however. Expect no attention, he’s a fierce warrior and needs to focus on his allegiance to the emperor, that’s what comes first. You follow very closely after, though! He’s quick to praise you for the things you do well and gently remind you of a better course of action when it comes to the things you don’t do too well. Acts of service enjoyer.

Konrad Curze : 2/10

DO NOT DATE THIS MAN. Konrad is a walking red flag. The self loathing, the anger, the angst, the general belief in humanity as a fallacy. He’s also incredibly violent, and may cause you serious harm if you ever managed to anger him. He’s a primarch, and you’re a human. Don’t you dare piss him off. I don’t know why anyone would realistically want that. Please continue to paint him as mean angry babygirl with a soft spot in your fics though. If you think you can fix him, you can’t. The emperor already tried.

Angron : 4/10

Before his conversion to chaos, Angron would’ve been a great boyfriend if we’re being honest. He was kind, compassionate, encouraging. He loved you when you were enslaved beside him, but once he became a primarch and lost everything, his beloved included, he became one of the most ruthless and cruel people out there until he succumbed to Khorne. He doesn’t remember you. His love language was words of affirmation.

Corvus Corax : 4/10

A very melancholic and depressed primarch. He’s very angsty and honestly a major drag to be around. He and Konrad, i feel like, would be better boyfriends to each other than either of them would be to you. Corvus isn’t as violent as Konrad, but he definitely carries on the hatred, the sorrow, and the bitterness. He’s also very sensitive, so expect to be met with either violence or a breakdown if you try to leave. 2 extra points because you may get to keep your life, his love language is words of affirmation, always followed by self deprecation.

Alpharius Omegon : 7/10

He’s they’re a great boyfriend to be honest, though very secretive, and that raises many questions. You don’t know that there are two of them. It’s a secret, not even one that you’re allowed to know the answer to. Alpharius is obviously the more dominant brother, the one who you think has a soft side. He doesn’t. That’s not him, that’s Omegon. Omegon is much more gentle, quiet, and quite honestly a little more touchy. Why? because you make him feel seen. Alpharius is used to the spotlight, so giving him every ounce of your attention feels like the usual, though he still enjoys it very much. Alpharius expresses love through acts of service and gift giving, while Omegon expresses love through words of affirmation and quality time. They make up for everything the other lacks, as long as you don’t know the massive secret they’re keeping from you…

[giverjoe]

Kiss The Rings- Emperor Geta x Fem!Reader

a/n: I struggled with this one heavy, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! hair pulling, name calling, basic p in v sex, dirty talk, oral (male receiving) reader is just there to be used up, there is consent beforehand of course! 18+ only please! not proofread so if there are mistakes I apologize. feedback is welcome and appreciated! 💞

word-count: 938

Spending your time at the feet of the snarkiest emperor around was not how you pictured your life going, but here you were. Geta was hell bent on everyone knowing you were his. You’d managed to escape once and suffered the consequences, so now you accepted your fate. Maybe you even were starting to like it but you would never let that be known.

“Cmon, you can do so much better than that with that slut mouth, I said, kiss them.” The crazed look in Geta’s eyes made you want to hide and offer yourself up for him at the same time as you sat at his feet. A vile smirk was plastered on his lips as he held his hand out in front of your face. The rings on his fingers were sparkling from the rays of sun peeking through the windows. “Anything for you.” You breathe out, internally rolling your eyes before leaning down and kissing each of his rings.

A sound rumbled out around you, it should’ve been a laugh but it sounded more feral than anything else. “That’s it pet. Look at you, you’re certainly a pathetic creature, sitting on your knees and doing whatever I tell you.” Your face was hot as he degraded you, the words flowing out of his mouth causing a pit to form in your stomach and a wetness between your thighs. “I bet you’d love for me to split you open right now, wouldn’t you?” Everything in you was screaming yes, your heart beating harder as you slowly looked up at him, his eyelids heavy with lust as he scowls down at you.

You slowly open your mouth up for him as he taps the pads of his fingers against your mouth, he slides them in quickly, causing you to gag a little as drool runs around them and down your chin. The salty taste of his skin was the best thing you’d ever tasted, and even though he could be harsh, you would do anything for a taste. “I think we should get some others in here to watch don’t you?” He asks, his fingers fucking your mouth, slowly picking up the pace until they’re going down your throat.

You hum around them, a gargled jumbled mess that made no sense but he knew what you were trying to say. He laughs before slowly pulling his hand away from you, pieces of his clothing slowly falling to the floor below you. “Changed my mind, not today, but maybe if you’re good enough for me I’ll consider letting your favorite general watch you, I know you’d like that.” Before you could say anything he was pulling you up by your arm, his grip around it making your skin sting as he dragged you over to a chair in the room. “Bend over for me, now.” He snarls, pushing down on the middle of your back, your hands gripping onto the arms of the chair so hard you may have splinters later.

“What a good little servant. Tell me you love it baby, tell me you love when your emperor fucks you.” He says, pushing your legs apart and flipping your dress up, he wastes no time before spitting in his hand. He strokes himself a few times quickly, spitting down against your ass and letting it run down to your pussy before he’s thrusting in. The stretch and burn sends your mind into a frenzy. You push your ass back against him as a quiet moan falls from your lips. “I- I love it, love you, love when you fuck me please sir, please.” You babble, his hand twists up in your hair, he pulls on it so hard you’re sure he’s actually pulling some hair out, but you didn’t care. He could feel you pulsing around him at his rough actions.

Loud smacks ring throughout the room as one of Geta’s big hands lands down against your ass, causing you to tense up. “Shhh, you’ll take what’s given to you. That’s for being late meeting me here today, you know better.” He smacks you 6 more times, before he’s roughly pulling his cock out of you. The emptiness you feel sending a bratty whine tumbling from your lips as he turns you around to face him. He makes quick work in pushing you down onto your knees, the dirty floor beneath you rubbing against them uncomfortably. Your heart pounds as he strokes himself in front of your face, sweat beads roll down his tone chest and onto his stomach, the urge to lick him clean overwhelms you entirely. “Open that whore mouth.” You normally hate swallowing, but for him you would do anything.

Your mouth drops open, your tongue lolling out like some sort of dumb puppy as he rubs the head against your tongue. The salty taste of his pre-cum overwhelms you as you smell his skin. He pinches your cheeks together, mumbling about ‘how you’re his favorite hole to fuck.’ Your heartbeat is in your ears, wetness pooling below you as you ache. You knew he wouldn’t take care of you this time because of your disobedience earlier in the day. He moans out a choked sort of sob before his cum is hitting your tongue, running down your throat. He strokes himself a few more times before laughing at the fucked our expression on your face, turning his hand over to look at it before showing it to you.

“Looks like there’s some left behind pet, clean it up.” He demands sticking his hand out to you. “Anything for you sir, anything for you.”

taglist: @littlexdeaths @voyeurmunson @multi-culti-girl @jasminelafleur @jamdoughnutmagician @munsongirly @littleredpartydresson @munsonmuses @pretty-batty @munsonburn3r @punk-in-docs @gri959 @ho-for-joequinn-fics

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

[joequiinn]

As We Combust | Emperor Geta x Priestess!reader

Summary | The Priestess is the only one who can ever tell Geta what to do...

Warnings & Notes | SMUT, fem reader, both praise AND degradation kink, fingering, oral (fem receiving), sub!Geta, dom!reader, 3rd person pov, historically inaccurate rep of Roman priestesses

Author's Note | idk I frantically wrote this in an hour like I was possessed. The Priestess is a character I've been working on since the trailer dropped - she's meant to be a reader, though in this instance the 3rd person pov sorta suggests she's an oc maybe she'll become that idk. Something about awful, cruel Geta becoming a pathetic sub for a woman speaks to my soul, so we'll be seeing more of these two in the future~~

WC | 1.1k

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

A blaze so high it lights the night / Long fingernails dug in my skin

Yourself so wet invites me in / Our lust increased feeds desire

As we combust, yeah we on fire / I feel you shake so deep inside

Oh scream my name and squeeze me tight / I'll do anything to make you come

“Look at you, being so good for me.” The Priestess praised in a husky tone, rolling her hips in time with the feverish lapping of Geta’s tongue. She watched through hooded eyes, lips parted with heavy breath, while beneath her the Emperor sat atop his knees, mouth ravenous as he licked at her core. The rumble of his moan vibrated against her sensitive nerves, causing her toes to curl as she threw her head back, “Gods, just like that…”

Her fingers pulled roughly at his hair, nails scratching fiercly against his scalp. Another elicit groan sounded from the Emperor, his own pleasure rapidly mounting as the leg hiked over his shoulder began to quiver. As one hand squeezed the soft flesh of the Priestess’s thigh, his other bounced up and down his cock in jerky, aching motions. He was so close now, the beads of precum wetting his fingers each time he squeezed the bright red head of his cock.

But the Priestess wasn’t there yet, and he knew she’d be displeased should his climax arrive before hers.

Practically whining as he extracted his hand from his pulsing cock, Geta brought that same hand to her slick lips, teasing them momentarily, only to have his hair yanked in disapproval - the Priestess wasn’t one to play nice when teased.

“Behave.” She gasped out, rutting her hips with a stutter against his open, drooling mouth. The command drew more desperate sounds from the pathetic Emperor, who promptly did as he was told and inserted two fingers between her folds, curving them once he was knuckles deep. The sound of intense pleasure that escaped the Priestess was a beckoning siren’s song to his ears, a wanton encouragement to bring her to the cliff’s edge. He dexterously sucked her clit while slowly dragging his fingers in and out, in and out, relishing in the sweet taste and quaking thighs of the Priestess now at his mercy.

“Yes, yes--!” Her pitch increased as she gripped his shoulders, nails so sharp that they broke skin. Her hips rolled with more and more fervor, her chest rising and falling in rapid shudders as Geta’s greedy mouth sucked and licked and nipped at her clit. His fingers slid faster and rougher, practically drenched in the Priestess’s desire as his knuckles slapped against her skin again and again and again. His cock was throbbing, desperate for relief, but he knew better - he knew that the Priestess must come first.

His jaw nearly hurt as he kept lapping her up, but the Emperor dared not disrupt his pace - she was so close, and he needed to watch her come. The Priestess’s leg tightened on his shoulder, her pussy clenching around his fingers, and in his need to make her come absolutely undone, Geta slid one more finger between her drenched folds, causing her toes to curl in eager surprise.

“Fuck--!” Her hands roughly grabbed at his hair, tugging as if her life depended on it. Her voice was a sultry, low moan as she instructed, “Look at me.”

A sound of desperation escaped Geta upon hearing her command; he opened his deep brown eyes and tilted his head back just enough to meet the dangerous, lustful gaze of the Priestess. His tongue swirled her clit, watching hungrily as her lower lip quivered, practically drooling on herself as she rolled her hips against his mouth. Sweat glistened down her neck and chest, highlighting the dip of her collarbone, the curve of her breasts - just the sight of the Priestess alone was nearly enough to ruin him, nearly enough for Geta to spill all over his quaking thighs.

The hooking of his fingers at just the right angle finally sent the Priestess over the edge, her pussy clenching selfishly around him, her eyelids fluttering shut as her head shot back; sounds of utter ecstasy leapt from her dangerous, sultry lips, the seductive call daring to beckon the attention of the entire palace.

Geta’s other hand held tightly to her quivering thigh, realizing with a gasp that he was too close, his coil unwinding to the sound of the Priestess’s gasps. His jaw quaked against her center as he withdrew his soaking fingers, roughly clenching his cock in his hand as if he could somehow control himself. But it was too late for the Emperor, the pressure of his squeezing hand sending him to the brink.

As his warm seed spilled out and drenched his already soaking hand, he withdrew his mouth from the Priestess, a near flustered look in his eyes as he watched the cum drip from his fingers and onto the floor, his moans loud and uneven as his chest heaved deeply.

Still riding out her orgasm, the Priestess clung to Geta for balance, her body shaking and shuddering as she saw stars behind her eyes while coming back down to earth. She finally met the Emperor’s gaze, taking a moment to drink in his dark eyes, his full lips, his flushed face; she realized, then, that he was staring back at her in guilty desire.

The Priestess’s eyes slowly crawled from his face to his leaking cock, staring with both satisfaction and disapproval as she eyed the puddle of cum between his legs. As her tongue traced slowly along her lower lip, her sultry gaze returned to Geta’s face, causing him to practically shiver in anticipation, a breathless gasp leaving his mouth.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” The Priestess scolded as she caught her breath, lowering her leg from where it had been resting atop his shoulder, “You know better.”

He nodded quickly, his hair sticky with sweat as he watched the Priestess as if hypnotized. She smiled wickedly, relishing in just how pathetic Geta was for her, and her alone. She delicately but firmly pressed two fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head back as she leaned down, the two of them almost nose-to-nose as she assessed him with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. Her teeth were like fangs as she grinned largely and cruelly, looking between his face, his cock, and his mess.

“Clean it up.” Her words were but a hot whisper across his lips, causing the Emperor to shudder as she shoved his face back. She turned to walk from him, her strut slow and sultry as Geta stared at the shiny peach of her ass. She lowered herself into a chair, her stare commanding as ever as she raised a cruel brow, once more looking between him and the puddle of cum he let spill on the floor. She clicked her tongue in reprimand, “Oh, don’t start behaving poorly now. Do as you’re told.”

With a gulp, Geta slowly lowered to the floor, tongue hanging hungrily from between his lips as he dared not break eye contact with the Priestess. Her mouth gaped in intense desire, her eyes a dangerous pair of daggers piercing into his own, “See, you're so, so good for me…”

[getaapologist]

A Haven with Two Faces

Emperor Geta x married!reader

Warnings: adultery; mentions of sex (brief); 18+ only

A/N: Just something I became possessed by and wanted to write out before the idea left me. Image below is credit to @inseparabiles and taken from this brilliant post mentioning Geta's lips

The dress was chosen just for his satisfaction. Stones sewn in, glittering rubies. Crimson. Shining. Spilling. Urgent and alarming. A warning. Red silks. As if bathed in blood. A vision, a fury. The red thread of fate. It wound tighter and tighter, cutting off circulation, threatening to take the hand with it as it breaks skin.

The gods certainly had the capacity to be cruel.

The lust burned like Prometheus fire. There was no thought of a husband, or rules, no thought given to adultery and its grave punishment. You would submit to it to keep these hands gripping your flesh, his soft lips on your skin. How you wished he would give in. A bite to break skin. Possession. A great seizing of flesh with no intention of letting go. The neck held close, fangs sunken in, eyes sharp like a wild animal. 

They could march you down to the river and fill your pockets with stones, accuse you of being a sorceress, stealing the vitality of one of their Emperors, and you would look up at Geta and smile as you waded in.

If only you had met him first. If only. And he seemed to agree, finding every opportunity to send your husband away on another campaign. He had watched your husband beg to be allowed to remain, to have an opportunity to start a family. Laughed in his face, sent him anyway. As if he would allow him to impregnate you. And each time, Geta hoped some error would allow him to fall in battle. If your husband did not return, you could be his, always. A widow in title, but not in spirit, for your soul was long ago wed to his.

It started with a glance. Playful, coy, if also a little nervous. It wasn’t every day you were invited to a party at Palatine Hill. It was your fresh, new husband who had really been invited, though Geta didn’t know that. Not at first. And even once he did know, it did not seem to be as much of a deterrent as it should have been. The same could be said of you.

And then it became a habit. A need.

“You wear this to provoke me, I know it,” Geta accused, his lips at your neck, hands searching lower.

“It is too open, Geta, we will be seen,” you warn, still clinging to him, not pushing him away, as heated and voracious as he was.

A cruel laugh. “What if your dear husband finds us here, buried in each other?” 

It should fill you with dread, it should make you second guess it all. But it doesn’t. “You would have to kill him to keep this secret.”

He growls, and it settles into your bones. “Do not tempt me.”

“I do not wish to leave you again. I cannot bear it.”

He lifts his head to look into your pleading eyes. “My heart, you know it cannot be that way, not yet.”

“Convict him of something, send him away, just please, I need more than these stolen moments. I can only fend him off so many times, Geta.”

He hides his face, his emotions, in the skin of your neck. “Tomorrow he departs for Persia. A lengthy campaign. I will call on you as I please.”

You halt his hands, gripping his wrists. “It is so awful that I wish for him to fall. I make for a terrible wife, don’t you think?” you laugh bitterly.

“I will not hear of it,” He orders, his hand gripping your chin, forcing your eyes to his. He looks down at you with sorrow. “You belong to me, not him, in body and in soul. You know it in your heart. You feel it the same as I do. When you spoke your vow beside him, you were saying it to me.”

Unable to help the swelling of emotions, like a great wave, you hide your quivering lip against his, submerging yourself in his affections to galvanize you for the moments you’d inevitably have to spend without him near. 

You felt as if you were Venus, and he Mars, forever cursed to be bound to another, forced to find your way to each other in secret. When would Vulcan entrap the pair of you with his metal net, expose you to mockery and ridicule? And punishment.

“If you were my Empress, you would want for nothing,” Geta whispers into your ear as he plunges into you, his brows drawn together in concentration as he holds you up, his touch firm but gentle. He’s always careful to not leave a mark. “I would shroud you in the finest silks and jewels. You would be worshipped so thoroughly. Mine.”

As you sit at the table, dress righted, hair smoothed down into place, your husband bumps shoulders with you, a drunken smile on his face. You feel a bit sad for him. He was not mean, or cruel. He did not deserve this violent betrayal. But it was how things were.

“Get lost? I know the palace is so large. Perhaps next time I’ll join you.” 

His implication is not lost on you, and it sends a flush to your face, your neck, though not because of thoughts of him dragging you off somewhere private. It is for all the stolen moments you spent looking up into Geta’s deep amber eyes. But your husband certainly doesn’t know that.

Geta steps around the table, clasping a hand to your husband’s shoulder moments before he reclaims his seat at the head of the table, beside his brother. Flaunting his power to himself. His eyes fall to you, a practiced expression obscuring the affection in them.

“Do not drink too much, wife. I leave tomorrow, and I would like to enjoy you before then.” The words spoken against your ear do not inspire the clench of your thighs as Geta's do.

You offer a small placating smile to your husband and you shoot a concerned glance to Geta, your eyes leaving his shining form as quickly as they could, to not arouse suspicion.

“I have prepared a treat for all of you,” Geta later announces, grinning, the look not unlike how he looks at you, right before he hides himself beneath your skirts. But it’s not directed at you. “Fine soldiers deserve fine celebrations. Come, join me in the courtyard. Ladies, you must forgive your husbands, for they deserve a little gift before we send them far away,” he winks, as smooth as ever. As if he wasn’t doing this for a single, selfish reason.

The look he sends your way tells you that this is his way of keeping you reserved just for him. This is how he protects you tonight. And soon, he can have you to himself.

When your husband finally came home, he did not seek you out. There was a loud clattering and the sound of a chair scraping the floor as it was righted. Drunken footfalls echoing, tired, whiny groans as he made his way into his room. You turned back over once his quiet snores started from the other side of the wall, fingers tracing the band of the ring in your palm. 

A gift. From Geta. And with it came a promise. A promise you hoped he could keep.

[puckleberryfinnie]

What Is This Feeling? (pt. 2)

summary: you're the one thing he can't have, but he'll do anything to get you anyway, fem!reader x emperor geta

part one

notes: I wanted to thank each and every one of you for the support you showed on my first attempt at writing this man, it literally means the world to me! here's the second part to that as a little thank you <3 as always, my requests are open, I'd be so honored if any of you sent your ideas my way!

It wasn't that you were truly bored in Rome- there were an infinite amount of things to do. You, however, couldn't entirely enjoy them with the amount of security that seemed to follow your every step. You could go out to the market, sure, but four guards were sure to come with, acting as your shadow with every move you made.

So, much of your time was spent roaming the halls of their residency, a place so giant you never got bored of it as the days went on. There you were considered safe, with no need to be watched every moment.

Much of this time was spent reflecting on all that had happened during your short time so far in Rome. More specifically, someone that had caused things to happen.

Geta was an interesting man, to be sure. It seemed as though he'd made it his duty to personally make you as comfortable as possible while in his empire. This being a duty that usually fell to the hired staff, he wasn't the best at it. Sure, he was perfectly fine at getting you the finest commodities they had to offer- he even made sure your room had been moved to a much more lavish one, though this might've been just because it was closer to his own. But any of the tours he'd offered you resulted in endless amounts of courting attempts on his part.

"These are our fountains- we really should take a swim together, yes?"

"And our apple trees- I'll grab you one right now, princess. You must try one for me."

It's not that you minded. He was quite attractive, you had to admit. There was, of course, the question of his intentions- it would ruin your reputation and that of your home if anything undignified were to happen to you, especially with the way news traveled in a place like this. So you kept that in mind as your friendship grew with him- always keeping a respected distance.

This greatly frustrated Geta. The only barrier he'd expected in the process of getting you was his own people guiding him against it for the sake of his empire, not your own denial.

Any other woman would've accepted the generous offer of his attention and affection. It bothered him deeply that you were different in that regard.

He was never one to back down from a challenge, however. So, when he watched as you walk past his room for what felt like the hundredth time, he followed you down that same hallway, soon catching up to you as he reached your side, placing a gentle hand on your back.

"Darling, it troubles me to see that you're roaming the halls quite so much. There are plenty of places for you to rest instead, places much better suited for your time," he said, leaning against one of the stone walls with a smile. "Might I suggest some leisure time in my quarters?"

"I'm afraid that would be... problematic, Emperor."

He frowned with your direct denial to his proposal. He knew it was true, though. It would be wrong of them to have a secret meeting of any sort in a private room, especially in the manner he was suggesting. In any case, someone of your ranking would want every exhausted detail of the courting process if he truly wanted you to be his.

Well, he did want you in such a way, really. He already knew he'd do anything for you, so what was it to him if you required a more dignified approach to being together? In fact, it might even be amusing if it were for someone like you.

"Well then, might I suggest a dinner? I'm sure my brother would be delighted to act as a chaperone, if that's what you're wishing for."

"That would do nicely, Geta. Thank you."

He smiled devilishly at your use of his name as he brought your hand to his lips with a slow kiss. "Then it's settled. Tonight."

The staff that had been tasked with taking care of you during your stay seemed extra excited about getting you ready for that night's event. Perhaps it was the silk cloth that had been bought for you by Geta himself. Or, if one was thinking more deeply, it was likely the fact that this was a clear sign of courting in their books. They now weren't serving just any other guest, they were serving his potential match. A future empress for their land.

The dining hall that they were eating in reflected the same notion. Everything was somehow even more lavish than it had been before, with new gold plates for every dish, and fancy silverware you'd yet to see during your stay.

And the dishes themselves were even more delicious than they had been- and they seemed more personalized for you.

"Those apples were the ones I mentioned during our tour, princess. And those tarts, I heard they're quite popular in your empire is that right? One of cooks made them upon my request." He'd immediately started rambling when you'd stepped inside the room, unlike his normal, more relaxed way of speaking with you. He paused, however, when he noticed your clothing, a smile spreading on his face. "I knew that fabric would look ravishing on you, darling. I have amazing taste," he said, leaning back in his chair, continuing to take you in as his eyes carefully analyzed every detail of your look.

"Yes, and I'd like to thank you for sending it to me. That was quite kind of you," you smiled, bowing your head slightly before you headed to an empty chair beside Geta. Sure, there were many other empty chairs surrounding the large table, but considering the man had invited you, it seemed only proper to be seated somewhat closer to him. At least that's what you told yourself.

"Don't mention it. Oh, and you already have met my brother, yes? I would like it if you two became better acquainted at some point, and what better time than now?" He gestured to his brother lazily, busy pouring a glass of wine for you with his other hand.

Caracalla, who was sitting opposite to you both, looks slightly confused about you both. His eyes were darting between you both as though he was trying to figure something out. He even looked to his monkey for some sort of guidance.

You, being as polite as possible, sent a small wave his way, bowing your head as usual.

After a while it seemed as though something had clicked for Caracalla, likely figuring that his brother's intentions for you might be more sincere, as bizarre as that would be for Geta. "Yes, I'm sure we'll be very well acquainted. It'll be a pleasure, in any case."

Geta laughed at his brother's remark, knowing he'd figured out what he intended for you and his empire. A long term relationship would be new for someone like him, but he wanted you for as long as he could have you.

"It seems as though the connection between our lands is going well, my lady," he said, taking a sip of his wine before looking over to his brother. "I believe that's just the thing that needs celebration. Don't you, brother?"

Caracalla was far to busy with his monkey, and only noticed he was being addressed after a moment of being stared at by both of his companions in the room. "Ah, yes. I love a party!"

He smiled at his brother's careless response, turning back to you. "Well then, might I suggest some gladiator games held in your empire's honor? It truly seems necessary."

He would show you off to the entire world if he could, but for now a whole empire would do.

definitely was planning on releasing this sooner, hope some of you can still enjoy this <333 again, I just wanted to say just how much it means to me that i got so much support on the first part of this- it truly amazes me and it's definitely something I think about all the time so thank you for doing that for me everyone!! as the abrupt ending suggests, I definitely plan on writing more, let me know if you want to be tagged in that!! (also anon pookie who encouraged me to start writing for him I love you to pieces too fkvljwbefj)

taglist (love you muah muah!):

@princesssunderworld

love ya!!

[aggresivemenace]

Requests open? Right as I start noticing there isn't much fic for Dorn? Emperor preserve me.

Rogal Dorn being the big protector he is would NOT allow any space between him and his partner while they're having sex. I mean he's just holding onto them for dear life. Front to back, front to front, front to side, no matter what he's just got a bear hold on them so they can't even think about doing anything but taking it. Same when they sleep. He's the safest place for them and he fucking knows it. When in public it's hands off but the second that door shuts to their room, reader isn't going anywhere.

(ps love your writing, it's so good and I look forward to more of your work! \(´∀｀)/)

Rogal Dorn is clingy as FUCK.

His love language? Touch.

All touch. Constant touch. All the time.

He’s always got a hand on you, half the time without even noticing.

Walk past him? Hand on your waist or shoulder.

Stand too close? Fingers brushing gently along your back, just low enough that no one else sees.

Feeling bored while he’s working? Congratulations, you’re now sitting on his lap. That’s just your spot.

The thing is: he just really, really likes you.

He never actually wants to be apart from you if he can help it.

Even in public, he slips sometimes - showing affection a little too openly.

It's never vulgar or obscene, but the look on people’s faces when they realize that cold, emotionless Rogal Dorn is actually a loving man is priceless.

They’re used to a stoic slab of ceramite, not a man who visibly melts when you so much as glance at him.

He’s easily one of the clingiest among his brothers.

His only real rivals in that department are Russ, Vulkan, and don't ask Curze.

(Yes, Curze can and will latch onto you like a bat onto a cave wall. It’s terrifying, and weirdly adorable)

But Dorn’s clinginess?

It really shines in bed.

When you're having sex, he’s always holding you.

Not just touching - actually holding, clinging, like you might slip away if he lets go for even a second.

He loves positions where he can keep eye contact.

For him, sex isn’t just a physical need (even though, spoiler alert, his sex drive is high) it’s something sacred.

A way to feel close to you. A way to tell you over and over again how much he loves you — without even needing words. Another opportunity to express his deep feelings.

And when you're sleeping?

You have two options:

1. You’re lying on his broad chest, his arms heavy around your waist or hips.

(His morning wood? Sometimes it’s not just because of the morning. Hehe.

2. You’re the little spoon.

He's curled up behind you like you're the only warm, soft, living thing left in the galaxy.

Because you are. To him, you are.

You’re the dog. Dorn is the burr stuck to your fur.

There is no escape. Nor should there be.

[renren-006]

Emporor Lucius | Lucius Verus x fem reader

plot: old friends and Lucius coming back into your life as the emperor after being a gladiator. (has a tad bit of similar plot to my other story)

a/n: i wanted another old freinds to lovers story so here it is! please enjoy! let me know of any other story ideas! also thank you so much for the love on my first lucius story> Familiar eyes

The halls of the emperors glowed in the sunlight. They came through the windows and open archways, spilling golden rays onto the marble flooring. Lucius walked the halls like he had done for the past few days, bathing in the light and the revelations of power. He never wanted to be here again, in this position, yet here he was. The events after his fight in Rime and the killing of Macranis led to the people wanting him in power to have a slower position of power in the senate. The issues with the Senate were evident, and Lucius had to fix them before he could trust the people. 

His head hung low as he walked towards those inner gardens. He watched from the corner of the open room as you strolled in. You were doing your duties like you had for the last 20 years, tending to the gardens and animals and small, tedious things that needed care. You knew a new emperor was in the place now, but you had not met him. Lucius purposefully kept it that way once he knew you were still where he had left you. Your life had always been to serve, and Lucious was just happy you had not been harmed. You had the same spirit and carefree smile as he remembered. He left before you could even see his shadow.

You turned once you heard the shuffling of feet, yet Lucius had already gone. The other maids and servants in the palace didn't speak of the new emperor, leaving you wondering who exactly roamed these halls. Since childhood, you had seen many people come and go from these halls; this time, you hoped whoever it was had a kind soul. Those days of your youth were always filled with smiles, running around these exact gardens and through the halls playing with the prince of Rome. How far off those memories felt now, a feeling of emptiness surrounded you again, the suffocating feeling of knowing you'll never be that child and that boy won't be the cause of your smiles anymore. You stood fast, breathing slowly. “Damn you, Lucius,” you spoke before you grabbed your things and left to do another job far from the gardens. 

Lucius plans to prevent you from working for a few weeks, but he can't control everything. It was another day of him roaming the halls and venturing into the gardens. However, this time, you had become more aware of the presence of someone while you were there. As you tended to the flowers in the center bed, you spoke up.

“You know it is creepy to stand in the shadow and watch a girl work,” you said to the air. You waited a while before he stepped further into the room.

“My apologies,” he spoke. The words he said sent shivers down your spine; the embers of something familiar filled your stomach. You turned slowly to see a man standing in a white tunic and many Roman emblems adorning his chest.

“I did not realize you were the emperor,” you said, shocked. “I should not have spoken the way I did”

“No, you had a right I was…I have been standing in these dark corners while you work,” he told you honestly, “Only fair you figured it out”

“Still, I spoke rather harshly,” you told him. As he ventured further into the room, you stood slightly, realizing there was a slight height difference between the two of you. While the revelation was fleeting, one of the most essential things caught your eye. Those eyes that looked towards you stuck another ember of familiarity. “I…have I met you before?”

“You always were too smart for your own good,” he said, laughing a little. “Me and my theatrics of keeping out of your way were pointless if you were to realize who I was anyways”

“You can not be,” you said, walking closer to the man before you. “Lucius?” “Hello, my darling,” he answered. Tears were fast to fall from your eyes as you threw yourself into his arms. The man you thought was dead stood here in your presence once more. Older, wiser, and more handsome than that little boy you knew. 

“Your back,” you said in his arms. He held you close, letting you hold him. You pulled back and looked up at him. “And you grew”

“That was the first thing you noticed?” “No,” you answered horribly. Lucius laughed, knowing you were lying. He nodded his head and stood tall for you. “I can not believe you came back”

“Not my original plan…” he told you, “Had other plans to leave Rome, but it seems I am needed.”

“Hm. Guess we all dream of leaving at one point or another,” you told him. “That was you, right? The gladiator that caused a stir from the people?” “Guilty,” he spoke, “I am like my father in that way.” “Seems your wish of finding out who your father was came true…Maximus," Lucius humped while looking towards the sky above you. You looked u,p seeing some clouds rolling in. “Let us head inside”

Those following weeks or months were filled with Lucius joining you in your morning routine of tending to the garden. Always brings a new story of his life away to tell you, filling your time in the garden with a magical life. Some stories were sad, but you knew he did what he could to tell them to overcome the grief. Lucius found a way to make your simple life filled with life and meaning. He sparked those embers in you that you desperately hoped could be fueled. You looked forward to those moments spent with him, making your day go by and making you excited for the next day to see him again. As more and more time went by, Lucius joined you for other tasks. It was joyous having him around, but sometimes you forgot about your job in favor of admiring the man before you and listening to whatever story about himself or Rome he was telling you. Sometimes, he would find you after senate meetings just to talk to you about how conniving the men in the room are. 

“They undermine me, and whatever I say, some of them look as if my words mean nothing,” he told you as you were in the library working on the catalog. “They…they even insist I must marry to secure Rome even further,” you nodded along.

“Maybe you should,” you spoke absently, “Look at how the emperors did when they did not marry, especially the brothers. Security for Rome is not a bad thing, Lucius.”  The silence after your words grew so intolerable that you were forced to put the book down and look behind you. Lucius' eyes were already in yours. “I say something to upset you? I truly did not mean to”

“Marry me.” Lucious' words did not fully register to you until you had the entire stack of books fall from the table behind you. Somehow, you had stepped back at his words and caused the table to shake. 

“Lucius”

“I am thinking rationally before you tell me I am not,” he said. A few moments passed as he tried to gather his words. “I have come to realize I can not live without you in my life anymore, I need you, y/n”

“Lucius,” you warned, “You realize I have no…prospects. I am nothing in the eyes of the empire; I am a maid to the palace.” “You think I care what Rome thinks of you. I do not. My thoughts and feelings are the only ones that matter,” he told you, stepping closer to you and finally able to grab your hand. “I have not felt love and comfort until I was with you again.”

“I am scared if you choose me, you will realize there are better women to marry.” “Lies,” he said smiling, “You are the only woman in Rome for me.” he leaned down to you, inching closer and closer to you. You stalled momentarily before closing the space, meeting his lips with yours. Those embers inside you turned into a fire. He was for you, and you for him.