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harmfulb1tch · 2 months ago

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Time Flies

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, rejection, ghosting

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend Eddie for a while. Eddie tells you he's leaving Hawkins, and you accidentally confess your love for him. Will this change things between the two of you, or will you find a way to work past your feelings and his lack thereof.

*Not Proof Read*

Pt.2

□□□□□□□

I always knew Eddie was going to make it big. He's a talented man in a group of talented guys. Of course, they were going to make it big. It just surprised me how quickly things evolved.

"What do you mean you're leaving tomorrow?" I ask, my brows furrowing in confusion. I stare at the boy next to me.

We're sitting on the floor with our backs against his bed. Moments ago, we had been flipping through the latest issues of music magazines when he suddenly sprang the news on me.

"You remember how we sent that demo to a bunch of the labels in Indy?" Eddie asks, setting his magazine to the side. He turns slightly to face me. His dark eyes are wide with excitement. A large, genuine smile is plastered on his face. "One of the labels wants to meet us and hear more of our stuff in person. They said they want to talk numbers." Eddie continues. "They set us up for a last-minute appointment on Thursday morning. The boys and I decided it would be less stressful if we head to Indy tomorrow so we have time to settle in at a hotel."

My heart drops. I should be excited. Part of me is. The other part is sad.

This means Eddie's leaving.

"You can't." I blurt out without thinking.

The smile on Eddie's face begins to fade. His excited expression is replaced by one of confusion. "What? Why not? Y/N, don't you realize how huge this is for me? For the boys? For our career? Everything we've worked for is paying off."

"So you're just going to leave like that?"

"Why are you being like this? You've always supported me. I thought you'd be happier. What's your problem? Why are you so upset?" Eddie asks.

"Because you're leaving, Eddie. Within 24 hours, you'll be out of here. And because I like you, and now you're leaving." I ramble, unintentionally outing my crush on the boy.

My eyes widen when I realize what I said. "Fuck." I mutter while biting down harshly on my lip in desperation.

Sympathy flashes in Eddie's eyes. "You like me?" His voice is quieter then moments before, like he's trying to accept my words.

"Yeah Eddie. I do." I let out a small sigh, pulling my eyes from his face. I feel heat burning on my cheeks. I hadn't meant to tell him how I felt. It just slipped out.

Eddie lets out a small sigh. "Y/N..."

I feel my heart pounding nervously in my chest. My anxiety builds as I wait for him to continue.

"I'm sorry, but I don't like you like that. You're an amazing friend- hell, my best friend, but...I don't feel the same way." His words shatter my heart into a million pieces.

We sit in a moment of silence as I slowly accept his rejection.

This is what I was afraid of. This is why I kept my feelings a secret for years. I knew he wouldn't like me back. I knew I wasn't his type. I just made this situation ten times worse.

My face is hotter than before. I just want to get out of here. I feel so embarrassed. I should've kept my mouth shut.

Why did I tell him?

I guess maybe some part of my mind thought he'd feel the same. That maybe he'd take me with him or find a way to stay with me.

How selfish is that? I need to snap out of this. This is everything he's dreamed of. He's got a deal with a label. His band is making it big. He's going to be a rockstar, just like the stars he's looked up to his entire life. Who am I to ask him to stay behind-to give that all up for me.

"I don't mean to hurt you." Eddie says softly.

I can see his face out of the corner of my eye. His dark brown eyes are filled with sympathy and maybe a little pity.

I just want the earth to swallow me whole. "It's fine. You can't force yourself to like me back, Eds. I wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to do." I reply softly.

As much as my heart is broken at the fact that he doesn't like me and likely never will, he's still my best friend. I just hope I didn't screw everything up by telling him. I hope things aren't awkward between us.

"Is that the reason you wanted me to stay in town so bad?" Eddie asks.

"I was mostly just hurt that you let me know so late. I mean, you're leaving tomorrow, Ed. No warning, no time to process. We literally spent hours on a new campaign last week, and we're not going to get to play. Why would you make plans with me if you knew you were leaving so soon?" My frustration from before bubbles in my chest at the thought of being left behind by the boy I trust so much.

Eddie lets out a small sigh. He leans his head back against his bed. "I just found out a few hours ago. You're the first person I've told. I haven't even told Uncle Wayne yet."

He told me first.

"I just want you to be happy for me, Y/N. This is everything I've ever wanted and now I feel like a shitty person for trying to actually attain it." Eddie's voice is quiet.

I hadn't meant to make him feel like that. "I am happy for you, Eddie. I just need to process it. I mean, you'd probably feel the same way if I told you I was moving to Indy for college and gave you a day's notice. I can't just pretend it's not going to hurt when you leave." This day has been a rollercoaster of emotions. "You know I'm going to support you no matter what. This is your dream and you need to follow it."

"Thanks, Y/N."

"Of course. Just make sure to remember me when you're famous. Send me an album or postcard every once in a while, alright?" I try to lighten the mood in the tense room.

Eddie chuckles. "You know I'm going to come back, right? I can't ditch my uncle like that, not after everything he's done for me. You can't get rid of me that easily."

I smile softly, grateful things are semi similar to before. Maybe things will stay normal.

"Eddie, can we just forget about what I said earlier? I really don't want things to be weird between us." I ask cautiously, nervous as to what he'll say.

Eddie nods. "Don't worry, forgotten." Eddie gestures to his pile of VHS tapes near his TV. "Let's make the most of the time we have left. Wanna watch a movie?"

I nod. "Yeah. Let's do it."

The rest of the evening, Eddie and I spend time together watching movies, eating junk food, and hanging out. At first, I thought everything really was normal. Eddie eventually went back to his playful, dramatic self after the movie began. We went back to talking about anything and everything, just like before.

I didn't realize he was acting a little strange until it was time for me to leave. Usually, Eddie is a physically affectionate person. He likes wrapping his arm around the shoulders of his friends. He's not scared to hug the people he cares about. He used to put his head in my lap.

Before I leave, Eddie always hugs me. It's just something we've always done since we were kids. He didn't this time. I also realized he kept a decent size of distance between the two of us throughout the entire night.

He might not say my confession made him uncomfortable, but I know it did. He's holding me at an arm's length, keeping things surface level instead of deeper like they were before.

Maybe he's just trying to protect me. Maybe he's trying to prevent me from feeling lead on.

=====

The next day Eddie left for Indianapolis. I watched as his car pulled away, my heart breaking more the further he got.

It's not just pain from losing a crush. Eddie's a good guy. I've known him forever, and now he's just gone. I have to call him if I want to talk to him, something that's going to be difficult if he's constantly moving through cities on tour. Hell, it'll be harder when he starts going to different countries. We won't have our weekly movie nights or DND campaigns.

I feel so alone, and usually when I feel like that, I call up Eddie and ask him to come over. I can't do that anymore.

Eddie's van disappears around the corner of the street, leaving me and Wayne standing in the yard of the trailer.

"He'll be back," Wayne reassures me, softly patting me on the shoulder. "And you're welcome here anytime you want, kid. I could use the company now that my boy's gone." Wayne's tone holds sadness, something I relate to.

"Thanks, Wayne." I smile sadly at the older man. "I'll have to take you up on that offer. I have a feeling I'm going to need some company too."

Wayne and I say our goodbyes before I begin walking down the road in the direction of my house. He offered to drive me there, but I refused. I need some air to process everything.

I know Eddie said he'll be back, but I wonder if he'll keep his word. Indy has so much more to offer than Hawkins. Who would want to leave? When he starts making a lot, he won't have to be confined to Indiana. He can move wherever he wants.

It would be so easy to forget us here.

---- 3 years later----

Eddie kept his word at first. He got settled in Indy and came back a few times to visit. He was still distant, but at least he was in my life.

The first year he sent me a copy of his album, signed and all. He sent post cards from everywhere he visited and made sure to call at least once a week.

Things started to change in the second year. His weekly calls became biweekly and eventually monthly events. He and the boys were busy, though. I understood.

Gareth, Jeff, and Freak called monthly, too. While I wasn't as close to them as I was with Eddie, they were still my friends. They told me about their campaigns and the cool things they experienced. They also told me about Eddie's new girlfriend.

I thought being apart from Eddie would make my crush disappear. That wasn't the case. That's why hearing the news that Eddie got a girlfriend broke my heart all over again.

What hurt worse is he didn't even tell me himself. The two had been secretly dating for at least half a year by the time Gareth brought it up into the conversation, thinking I had already been told by Eddie.

That month, when Eddie called, I told him I knew about his girlfriend and I was happy for him. As much as it made my heart ache, I was happy he found someone he could love and who hopefully treated him right.

He deserved to be treated well.

Eddie told me he didn't want to hurt my feelings by telling me he was seeing someone. He figured keeping it under wraps would save me the heartbreak and keep a smaller number of people who knew about their relationship.

It hurt to know he had never planned on telling me. From a best friend standpoint, it felt like he was slowly closing me out of his life.

Shortly after that conversation, all calls from Eddie ended. He rarely sent postcards, and if he did, he didn't bother to write anything on them besides his name. He stopped telling me when he was coming to town.

I tried to make excuses.

He's famous now. His face is plastered on newspapers and magazines around the country. He's got more important things to do than call me.

He'll call when he has time, he's just really busy right now.

When I asked why Eddie didn't call anymore, Jeff told me that his girlfriend wasn't happy with him talking to other girls. It wasn't because of me personally. She just didn't like him interacting with any girls at all.

I just wish Eddie would've told me himself. I wish he would've sent me a letter or called one last time to explain the situation. I respect his relationship and I would've left him alone if he had just told me what was going on. I didn't tell Jeff this.

Eventually, the only information I got about Eddie was from Magazine covers, sometimes the boys, or occasionally Wayne, when I stopped to visit him.

Yeah, I was mad he just ditched me, something he promised he'd never do. But I was mostly hurt.

The reality is Eddie's a rockstar and I'm just a girl from Hawkins, Indiana. He's outgrown Hawkins, and he's outgrown me.

I just wish my heart would accept that.

---

Possible Pt. 2 but I'm not sure yet. Depends if I find what I want to add onto the story.

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harmfulb1tch · 2 months ago

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CHARM

PAIRING: johnny storm x female reader

RATING: explicit

WORD COUNT: 762

SUMMARY

johnny doesn’t care about getting interrupted while eating you out in your office.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

listen, i saw that new pic where his hair is so perfectly styled and all i could think about was messing it up so here you go.

TAGS/WARNINGS

explicit content (18+ minors do not interact), fantastic four: first steps johnny storm, oral - f receiving, fingering, semi-public sex (reader’s office), accidental voyeurism (they get interrupted by reed), consider this an AU since the movie isn’t out yet.

A knock at your office door has your pen slipping from between your fingers. It rolls across your desk and drops to the floor just as your mentor, Dr. Richards, steps inside.

“Would you prefer to grade the multiple choice or short answer section?” He asks, waving a handful of papers around. You swallow nervously.

“M-multiple choice,” you stammer. Your fingers curl against the edge of the desk. He narrows his eyes, assessing you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm!”

His brows pinch together in the same way they do when he’s working through a particularly difficult equation. Sweat begins to gather at the base of your neck and you try to focus on keeping your breathing nice and even.

“If you’re not feeling well—“

“I’m fine, Dr. Richards,” you say, the words spilling out in a rush and the pitch of your voice a little too high. You clear your throat and try to smile reassuringly. “P-promise!”

“Alright. I’ll need those back by Tuesday.”

“No problem!”

He sets the exams on your desk and he’s about to leave when he spots something on the floor, bending to pick it up. Your eyes widen and you hold your breath as he stands, your pen pinched between two fingers. He places it on top of papers.

“Have a good night.”

“T-thanks! You, too!”

Dr. Richards finally leaves your office and you drop your head back against your chair, biting your lip to keep a moan from escaping. A warm hand slips beneath your shirt as a devilish tongue continues its assault on your clit.

“I’m going to kill yo— oh my god.” Your threat fades into a bitten off moan. “Do that again.”

Johnny obliges your command, looking up at you from between your thighs. You tangle your fingers in his hair, messing up the perfectly styled golden strands.

“You’re evil,” you tell him. “I can’t believe they call you a superhero.”

He presses two fingers to your soaking wet entrance, sliding them into your heat with practiced ease. Each drag of his talented fingers strokes against a spot inside of you that stokes your burning arousal from ember to full blown flame. You press your palm to your mouth, muffling the moans this infuriating man coaxes from you.

Just as the wave of your orgasm is about to crash over you, Johnny pauses, pulling away. You growl in frustration and he smiles.

“Evil would have been making you cum while Reed was still here.”

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t. He’s my boss. And your brother-in-law!”

“Don’t test me, sweetheart. You know I’m good at exams.”

His mouth returns to your center and he sucks your clit between his lips. You faded release returns, blazing through you with a vengeance. Your muscles tighten and your grip on Johnny’s hair grows desperate, like the contact is the only thing keeping you grounded. He hums and the vibration is what tips you over the edge, your thighs squeezing against his ears. Warm fingers dig into your hips, sparks dancing across your skin.

When your orgasm begins to fade, you finally loosen your hold on Johnny’s hair and slump in your chair, boneless and spent. He gently pushes your chair back, crawling out from beneath your desk with a self-satisfied smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth, lips shiny with your release. His khaki pants are wrinkled from kneeling on the ground and it gives you a strange sense of pride to know that perfectly put together Johnny Storm looks like a mess because of you.

“Come here,” you say. He plants his hands on the armrests of your chair, leaning close. You do your best to smooth his hair back into place while he watches you, brown eyes searching your face. “That’s better.”

Johnny kisses you. It’s quick, over before you can even close your eyes and savor it, but the taste of your release lingers on your lips when he pulls away. That little moment of affection has you burning up even more than the orgasm he just gave you.

“Let’s grade those exams,” he says, taking half the papers from the stack and sitting down in one of the chairs on the other side of your desk. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t have to stay and help.”

“The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get to round two.”

“Round two?”

“And three and four and—“

You throw a pen at him. He snatches it out of the air.

“You’re a menace,” you tell him.

“It’s part of my charm.”

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, check out my masterlist.

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harmfulb1tch · 2 months ago

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cheating on your shitty boyfriend with your best friend johnny storm??? ummm . . . check! ✅️

"shit, baby." he chuckles into your mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist— nails digging into his broad forearms by your head.

"your pussy really fuckin' needed me, huh? poor thing." he hums before pulling his hips back and thrusting deeper into you, earning a shudder from your body.

you moan into his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut— his arms lock around your head as he drives his cock deeper and deeper. it feels so good— your lips opening in a trembling 'o' shape as he drills into you.

your eyes are almost crossing and it makes him laugh— "never thought i'd hafta be the one to treat this pussy right." you nod, and he places a kiss on your lips before speaking— "your boyfriend ain't got shit on me."

you whine, whimper, hiss—

"johnnyyy—. . johnny, oh my god . . fuck— i'm!"

"yeah, yeah. cum for me then, drench me, baby. lay it on me. i deserve it for fucking ya so good." he hums, lips pressing against yours. his tongue licking into your mouth with ease, prodding at yours— its so hot.

you whine for a moment, voice cracking as your cunt convulses around his cock in pulses. he groans, eyes shutting for a brief moment before opening quickly to watch your fucked out face.

he feels you drench his pelvis in squirt, your legs trembling and voice going a pitch higher as he continues to fuck into you— effortlessly riding out your orgasm and overstimulating you.

"mmmnn! mmnn.. ! i luuhhh— mmnn... i luhh youuu—" you whine, hooking your arms around his neck, fat heavy tears spilling from your eyes as he pulls you impossibly close.

"yeah. i love you too, baby. fuck— fuck, i love you."

later . . . — your boyfriend stares at his phone, the message popping up out of nowhere. it reads —

' shiiiiit broo... this ur girl?? she sayin she love me! 😬😬 '

1 video attachment .

' my fault big dawg 💪'

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harmfulb1tch · 3 months ago

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I have too many requests and have written ZERO of them. I am so so so so so sorry. Life is fucking caos

#university struggles #life is not worth the living #exam season

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harmfulb1tch · 3 months ago

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ICHJ is pushing a completely false narrative. that father was upset at the rushing and joe took him aside to apologise. the kid was right there, he wasnt reprimanding the dad infront of his kid. they were staying at the same hotel. she makes so much shit up i swear to god. mexican twitter has clarified joe is not telling him off. false narratives. why would someone upload a video of a celebrity telling them off. c’mon guys.

Idgaf. Don’t get me into this.

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harmfulb1tch · 4 months ago

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A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 37 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

AN: DId everyone have a good Valentine's day that celebrated? And a good week? Feeling nice and cozy? Ready to be home from our beach vacation? Good....

CW: Laurence, sexual assault, marital rape, Alastor being a unhinged murder baby, suggestions of people nomming

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi Show your support by leaving a tip, buy Kit a coffee!

“Where’d you get that dress?” Laurence hissed over your shoulder as you lifted your bag into the car.

“Ma- Mother got it for me,” you corrected yourself. Speak properly, you’re in public and heaven forbid your words appear to be anything less than chipper. You tried to look him in the eye while you straightened again, but it was hard. It felt like Laurence was looking into your soul when your eyes met. Would he see your guilt? The weight of your sins on your heart?

“Did she now?” Laurence asked after a pause. “How generous of her.”

“It was,” you agreed. “I’m rather fond of it, too.” You made a show of turning this way and that to show it off, just as a woman would in a happy marriage.

Laurence only looked on wordlessly as he opened the car door, face still as stone. There was something in his eyes, in his face, you didn’t like. You almost asked him if he was alright, if something happened before you swallowed your fear induced curiosity.

Instead of asking, you tried to smile and ignore it. If you worried, if you looked like you saw, it would only make things worse for you. All it would do was make you look like there was a reason for you to notice. The last thing Alastor needed was for you to act guilty.

“How was your sister’s?” Laurence asked, sitting behind the wheel for a moment before starting the car.

“It was lovely.” You fueled the smile on your face with memories of the sandcastle that hardly looked like a castle.

“And the birth went well?” Laurence asked, eyes focused on the view out the back window while backing out of the parking space. You kept your eyes trained on the world passing by, searching for one face, one car that would make everything alright.

For a moment, a flash, a blink, you saw him. Alastor stood tucked close to the pillar and hidden from sight, watching you. Did he see you looking at him?

You wanted to wave to him, to say some sort of goodbye, but you couldn’t. He couldn’t either. All you could do is trust him and hope that he saw you longing to be by his side.

“Something wrong?” Laurence asked, “Did you leave something behind?”

“No,” you lied, knowing full well you had left behind your heart. It wasn’t like you could go back and get it, anyway. It would be impossible for you to go back and collect it. It was his forever.

“And how was your weekend away?” Mimzy asked, sliding a glass to Alastor across the empty bar. She was closed, still prepping for the night, but that never stopped Alastor from making himself right at home.

“It was wonderful,” Alastor said, smile spreading wider as he swirled the amber liquid in his cup.

“Oh, Al.” Mimzy sighed, leaning on her elbow as she looked over the bar at him. “You’ve got it bad for her.”

“I do,” he admitted. “I’m addicted to her.”

“Be careful,” she reached out, wrapping her hand around his much larger one. “I wish I could tell ya that this’ll work out and you’ll get your girl, but Al, this is doomed. Don’t let it doom you. Keep your head about you, if you’re going to run around with her.”

“I’ve got it under control.”

You tried not to notice the dust clinging to railings and tables as you walked through the living room. There were footprints on the floors, marks left by someone walking shoeless through the house, the body’s natural oils leaving just the ghost of the step behind, illuminated by the sunlight.

Laurence always told you it was proper to wear shoes in the house. You needed to be guest ready at all times. Even he kept himself to that standard. From the first day of your marriage, shoes were required if you were going beyond the bathroom.

But there were footprints on the dusty floor.

One set of footprints was smaller than the other. You had no children. Laurence had no sisters. There was no reason Laurence should walk shoeless through your house. There was no reason a woman should, either.

He had brought her to your home. Hot, bitter something stabbed into your gut and chest. Why? Why did that hurt you? It shouldn’t. You told yourself that, blinking back tears. You had spent your weekend in the arms of another, so what if he did too?

The sound of your throat clearing awkwardly was loud in the silent house as you crossed to the stairs. The emotion locked in your throat made it feel dry and as dusty as your home.

Cold fear ran down your spine as Laurance loomed behind you. Your eyes struggled to leave those dainty footprints on the dusty floor. What a contrast it was to feel fear again after a weekend with nothing but the peace and warmth you had felt sheltered with Alastor.

“Something wrong?” Laurance’s breath cascaded over your neck and shoulder, not bringing an ounce of comfort that came with Alastor’s breath doing the same.

Your eyes remained locked on the footprints, far too dainty to have any chance of being yours. Had you ever actually been barefoot on this floor? Even once?

A painful lump burned in your throat and your eyes stung as you came to terms with the fact that he really had brought another woman into your home. It bothered you and worse still; the fact that it bothered you bothered you.

There was nothing you wanted more than to run into Alastor’s arms, take shelter there and cry those bitter hot tears. He’d let you too, you knew that and oh, wasn’t that somehow worse still?

The man you loved would hold you as you bitterly cried over the betrayal of another man. Surely it would hurt him to do so, not just to see your pain, but to know that you cared enough to be hurt. Would he still love you?

The stairs creaked as your weight settled on each step. Mentally, you mapped those squeaky boards, as you did every time you climbed them, just in case there was a change. They creaked louder still under Laurance’s weight as he followed you up, presence suffocatingly close behind you.

Had you always been this scared of him, or was it you had grown desensitized? Had Alastor spoiled you with his kindness, love and pleasure for so long that you’d forgotten how to live your life? Had a weekend truly been enough to grow accustomed to the safe shelter and happiness you found in Alastor’s arms?

Was the fear sharper now that time had ripped that all away? Was that why being in this house with him felt all the more terrifying?

You’d grown complacent in your short time away and now utter terror at the prospect of your husband’s touch ran through your veins, sending your heart beating hard. Were your hands trembling? You didn’t dare hold them out to check.

What would his touch bring you tonight? Had he sated his hunger, a hunger you had only begun to understand, with the owner of those tiny footprints? Was she the same woman from Mimzy’s? Or did he have other women?

Would he still hunger for you tonight? Would he grip your arms too tight, pushing you to the bed? Would he rip your dress?

Suddenly you regretted wearing it. You didn’t want to face the thought of it ripping, not the dress Alastor had gotten you.

“I’m going to change out of this,” you said quickly, on impulse. “It ah- it smells like train.” It didn’t. It should have, but it didn’t because you had only spent an hour in the crammed car.

Each step toward your wardrobe came faster than the last, though you tried to not let them be. You tried to pretend not to see Laurence’s eyes on you as you undid button after button.

You were, for the first time in days, acutely aware of the lingering ache in your side, left by ribs still healing even after weeks passed since their injury. It would ben weeks still until that pain stopped gripping you, if ever. The bruises were lighter now, shades of yellow hidden in your skin.

You had been healing. Time with Alastor had been putting you back together again, a little bit at a time. Alastor’s voice smoothed over your worries. His touch healed bruising.

As the fear rushed through your veins, the wrong pair of hands wrapped around your biceps from behind. You couldn’t help but question if it was worth it? Did the fear feel like this before? Or was it because you had gotten a poisoned taste of Alastor?

Did it matter?

Laurence pulled you to him. Each breath that washed over your neck made it harder to school your face. You knew how to do this, you’d done it time and time again. Go numb. Go still. Let it happen.

So why was it so hard now?

You knew why. You knew why a sob tried to fight from your throat as Laurance pushed your slip up your legs. You knew why the bed you didn’t remember landing on felt wrong.

“Please, Laurance.” You couldn’t keep the whine from your voice. It felt like a lifetime ago when you had said something similar, whine and all to Alastor, and yet the meaning and desire between the two instances couldn’t be more different. “I just got home.”

“I’ve been without my wife,” Laurance punctuated his words with the bullying press of his hips against you. How different he felt fighting his way inside you compared to Alastor’s fingers had. “A man has needs, and it’s his wife’s job to satisfy them.”

It wasn’t like this with Alastor. That’s why it was so hard to lie there and submit.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in the poorly made bed. Hairs of bright red, not your own, lay on your pillow.

She had been here too; you realized as tears fell from your eyes. Laurence had taken her into your home. He had taken her in your marriage bed.

Had he lain with her? Surely he had. Her hair was on your pillow. Did he make her feel good in the same ways Alastor made you feel good? Or was he not capable?

Each jarring shake of your body as he bullied into you made it harder to breathe. It felt like you were being ripped apart. Had it always felt this way? Hurt this bad?

The blanket was rough against your face as you sobbed into it silently. Your mind conjures up an image of Alastor, sitting on the villa bed naked as the day he had been born and yet so vulnerable, a desperate attempt to comfort yourself.

Alastor, the man who would never take you against your will.

Alastor, the man who would always leave you an out, never demanding more from you than you could give.

Alastor, who taught you that love didn’t hurt.

You wanted to hate him for that. You wanted to push his face from your mind. You wanted to turn away from him.

As Laurence worked through your body, using you to please himself in a process you understood better now than ever in your life, you longed for Alastor.

You longed for his soft touches.

You longed for his sweet kisses.

You longed for the joy in his laugh.

He was poison; you realized, but he was also the antidote to Laurance’s poison. You were addicted to his sweet taste and there was no going back. Alastor may be poison to your marriage, to your reputation and your standing. That was true.

But he would never do this to you.

Alastor felt like electricity was running through his veins. There had been only a few times he had felt as alive as he did right now. It concerned him slightly how many of them took place over the weekend but that was alright, he’d examine that later.

There was a thump in the back of the car but Alastor paid it no mind. They’d be where they were going soon enough. It wasn’t like the man had the strength to do any damage to the trunk, anyway.

It was better he wake up now and be feisty instead of Alastor having to wait for them to get his senses about him. The hunt would start sooner if he was awake.

“We’re just about there, old chap.” Alastor interrupted his humming, though the man likely couldn’t hear him. That was alright, he didn’t need to hear Alastor.

The car bumped and rocked, sometimes jumping over large roots. They were a good way out, but that was just how he wanted it, too. They had turned onto the back road that led out to into the bayou just past his home almost an hour ago and not stopped since.

Alastor’s grin spread wider when he spotted the end of the road. The car speed up, earning muffled screams from the back and then, when he slammed on the brakes, a solid thump as the body flew into the back of the trunk.

“Just making sure you’re awake,” Alastor said, laughing as he cut the engine. The car rocked with the shifting of his weight when he stepped out of the car. Turning, he leaned back in and grabbed the rifle from where it leaned into the passenger seat.

The barrel of the gun rested against his shoulder as he carried it, whistling a jaunty tune all the while as he made his way to the back of his car. Each step was paired with a flick of his hand, spinning the keys around his finger only to slap the underside of his fingers with a jingle. Another whistled step and another jingle of the keys.

The sound of the key slotting into the trunk lock was loud in the silence otherwise silence, only accompanied by the tune Alastor whistled. The man inside stilled, but Alastor could still hear his pathetic whimpering, muffled as he opened the latch. The smell of urine wafted up from the trunk as it opened. Alastor’s nose wrinkled at the smell.

It was alright, that’s why he had the tarps lining the bottom.

“You’ve made quite the mess in here, haven’t you, Mr. Montemuro?” The man’s wide eyes reflected the moonlight as he scooted away from Alastor. “Ah, where are my manners?”

Alastor slipped a knife under the knotted cloth gag tied around the man’s head and pulled. The blade cut through the fabric easily.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Moreau. I swear, let me go and no one has to know about this. I swear! I won’t say anything.”

“You see,” Alastor hummed as he slipped the antler hilted knife back into the sheath at his waist, “Even if we just put this behind us, that wouldn’t do anything to bring them justice.”

“Bring who?” The man asked, blubbering pleas spilling from his lips as Alastor wrapped his hand around the man’s thick bicep. He was hefty, needing to lie off the fatty meats and rich sauces but far from the picture of glutton. That’s why Alastor picked him for tonight.

Not that he wasn’t slated to die at some point- he was on the list. Alastor wouldn’t look the other way, knowing how this man treated his wife. He spent more money on women of the night than he did putting food on the table for his wife and children. Men like him were a waste of air.

The least he could do was make himself useful. Alastor hadn’t been to the butcher yet and what he had in his icebox had been tossed before he left town or it would have gone rancid and stank up the house.

Meat was expensive and, after all the spending of the weekend, he would rather not take on the expense. Not that he couldn’t afford it. He could, and Laurence was due for a payment this week, anyway. It simply would have left his accounts lower than he would have liked.

Oh well, he smiled wider as he helped the man find his feet. There were always other options.

“Please, let me go.” The man’s incoherent pleas occasionally gave way to something that made sense. Alastor swallowed the urge to praise him for getting that much out.

“I fully intend to.” Alastor said with a manic, inhumanly wide grin. “But that doesn’t mean there won’t be justice.”

The ground was damp under his knee as he knelt to the side of the man, cutting the ropes that had bound the man’s legs. Crickets chirped around him, singing their songs. Alastor had learned early on not to be in front of or behind someone when doing this part.

They would get a head start, but it was too risky to give that head start while he’s on his ass holding a bloodied nose.

The man’s shoulder was sticky with sweat as Alastor turned him to face the swampy forest. One large step after the other took them closer to the forest’s edge. Adrenaline was coursing through Alastor now. Between the dangers of the bayou and the risk of a failed hunt, this was by far his favorite way to kill.

“You know,” Alastor mused, “I have been feeling very wound up since I got back.”

“Got back?” The man whimpered, trying to draw out the conversation.

“I spent the weekend away with my girl,” Alastor chuckled, “She’s a lovely gal too. Had a great time. She accepts me, just as I am. Can you believe that?”

“She accepts this?” The man’s voice was thin with fear.

“Oh, this she doesn’t know about yet. But when she does, I’m sure she’ll accept it too. You see, our love is changing her. That’s what happens when you’re meant to be together and we’re clearly meant to be together.”

“You’re crazy.” Dirt and stones crunched under the man’s feet as he stumbled.

“Ha! I am!” Alastor shoved the man forward as he laughed, “So you better run like your life depends on it.”

The man wasted no time in doing as he was told, running clumsily through the brush, tripping over roots and stumbling. The man’s panting wails carried easily over the wet ground. Alastor’s laugh chased him, hot on his heels as if it was carried on the wings of some terrible demon.

“Because it does!” Alastor finished as he watched the man disappear. That was alright, it wouldn’t take long at all to find him.

The trail was hardly a challenge to follow. Rippling waves in shallow water told a tale of where he had been and the splashing and screams told Alastor right were he was at any moment.

This was Alastor’s territory. Glowing eyes watched on as he ran through the wet forest. He tried to avoid making more noise than he had to. It wasn’t always avoidable. His pray wasn’t going to hear him coming, anyway. Not over the sounds of his own wailing screams, at least.

The man didn’t put up a good fight at all when Alastor descended on him. He had tripped and broken his ankle not even half an hour into the hunt. It dissapointed Alastor to have the challenge of the hunt cut short as he stalked through the darkness after the limping figure.

The loud shot of his rifle echoed through the forest, sending sleeping birds in into sudden wakeful flight, filling the air with the sound of beating wings. The silence was quick to reclaim the night, echos dying as quickly as the shot had woken the animals.

“Too bad, old chap.” Alastor said, kneeling to cut the clothing away from the man. “You didn’t make a very entertaining hunt in the slightest.”

The body was heavy and awkward as Alastor drug it closer to the water’s edge. It wasn’t ideal. He’d have to be mindful of his surroundings and make quick work if he would not fall victim to a killer himself that night.

Alastor used the cut shirt from the man to soak up water and wash the sweat and urine from the body. The work was meticulous. It was important to have a clean surface before he set on the next step.

Once he was satisfied that the surface was clean if waste, he tossed the shirt into the water and followed by the pants. The soft hiss of his knife leaving the sheath was music to his ears.

First, he pulled the carcass so that the head was hanging over the bank and the body on an incline. There was no reason to believe life still was present but Alastor slit the throat deeply anyway, allowing blood to pour out, aided by gravity.

While he worked, Alastor hummed and thought of you. He wondered what your favorite cut of meat was. As he collected the rich roasts from the thigh, he wondered if you’d like similar cuts. Would you question the meats in his icebox? Would you question a taste different from you were used to?

Would you accept this side of him? Alastor didn’t think you would, not right now, but in time? He just needed more time with you. You were meant to be his.

Leaning back from his work, blood smeared and pooling around him in the darkness, Alastor couldn’t help but marvel at how his thoughts of you had changed over the time you had spent together. It happened as quickly as spring gave way to summer.

How close he had come to not finding the one meant for him. And to think, he had considered sending you away once he had gotten you safe from Laurence, sending you away from what was where you belonged.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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harmfulb1tch · 6 months ago

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Okay I like the concept of Eddie having a cheerleader girlfriend

BUT WHAT ABOUT MY WEIRDO GIRLS

Eddie would definitely love someone who shares his tastes, someone who enjoys the same music as him and all his geeky shit

But if they're both weird separately, together they're one big deal.

They would say cute comments to each other but weird ones to others

“I wish I could cut you up and eat you so they know you're mine”

“Aww that's cute”

Robin and Steve who were listening to them flirt would be baffled by their “loving” commentators

I love the idea that you make others uncomfortable with your relationship but you don't care because you love each other, kind of like Gomez and Morticia

Speaking of them, Eddie would do the same thing as Gomez when he kisses Morticia's hand and covers her arm with kisses until he reaches the other hand (BECAUSE I LOVE THAT MAN)

Okay this is just a little preview of a series I'm about to publish about Eddie and his “weird” girlfriend.

My requests are open so don't be shy!

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harmfulb1tch · 6 months ago

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SMUT

𐙚 eddie has nude polaroids of you

𐙚 spooning sex w eddie

𐙚 eddie cuffs you to the headboard

𐙚 riding eddie with your hands cuffed behind you

𐙚 “bite me” “if you insist” (vampire eddie)

𐙚 eddie worships your tits

𐙚 dom eddie bullies you in bed

𐙚 trying to stay quiet while eddie fucks you

𐙚 eddie eats you out in a bathroom after his show

𐙚 threesome (eddie x fem reader x fem character)

𐙚 eddie takes control when you can’t

𐙚 mirror sex

𐙚 sub eddie

𐙚 eddie jerks off to the thought of you

𐙚 riding eddie on the couch

short & sinful (smutty mini blurbs & thoughts)

• thigh riding with eddie

• how eddie sleeps

• eddie loves your stretch marks

• eddie loves when you wear his clothes

• going to the movies with eddie

• eddie likes to be called “master”

• eddie is condescending during sex

• movie night at eddie’s

• eddie rubs you over your panties

• eddie loves kissing

• eddie’s hands

• riding eddie’s face

• perv eddie loves your thick thighs

• sucking eddie off as he smokes a joint

• eddie likes having his hair pulled

• thigh fucking

• plastic vampire teeth

• eddie kissing you like this

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

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harmfulb1tch · 6 months ago

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i loved your fic where reader cries and eddie calms her down as a thoughtful romantic caring boyfriend. i wonder if you could write something like that again. short or long, it doesn't matter. <3

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked it, I hope you like this one too. I did my best.

Nightmare eddie munson x fem!reader, fluff

summary: when you have a bad dream, your boyfriend eddie takes care of you at midnight, calms you down.

Falling asleep in Eddie’s trailer always gives you a different kind of peace. The bed is small, but Eddie’s presence makes you forget all the tightness. The faintly trembling walls of the trailer and the sounds of crickets outside add a strange serenity to the night. You’re wearing one of Eddie’s oversized sweatshirts; it still smells like him, that unique scent—slightly spicy and a bit woody.

Underneath, you’re wearing one of his boxers, because Eddie had grinned at you and said, “I love seeing you in those.” On the other end of the bed, he’s sleeping in just his boxers, the faint light of the trailer highlighting the contours of his shoulders. He’s breathing easily and deeply, completely at ease.

The night had started off sweet. The spice of the hot chicken wings you ate earlier still leaves a burning sensation at the corners of your lips. After that, you’d cracked open a couple of beers and laughed hysterically at an absurd horror movie Eddie had picked. His deep, slightly raspy laughter still echoes in your ears.

You fell asleep feeling drunk on this peacefulness, but at some point, a dream pulled you in. Everything felt so real. You were losing Eddie. Right before your eyes, he was disappearing, as if turning into a shadow and vanishing. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t stop him. You wanted to scream, but your throat felt tight, like it was constricted. You took a step forward, but the ground was slippery, your hands reaching out to grasp the cold void.

You jolted awake with a gasp of fear. The trailer was dark, with only a faint orange glow from a streetlamp filtering through the edge of the window. Your breaths were rapid, your chest rising and falling. You turned to Eddie beside you. He was still there. His back was to you, his hair spilling over his shoulders, rising and falling gently with his peaceful breaths. The weight on your chest eased slightly, but tears welled in your eyes for a moment. Losing him for real… the thought alone sent shivers through you.

Unable to resist, you placed your hand gently on his back. Your palm felt the warmth of his skin. It was as if this simple gesture reassured you: “He’s here, next to me.”

Eddie stirred slightly at your touch, lifting his head from the pillow and mumbling sleepily, “Hey... everything okay?”

The warmth and concern in his voice instantly softened you. “I had a dream,” you said, your voice still trembling.

Eddie, without opening his eyes, reached back to pull you into him. The weight of his arm around you melted all your fears. “I’m here,” he murmured softly. “The dream’s over.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your nose burying into the curve of his neck. His scent, Eddie’s presence, the tiny world inside the trailer... it was all real.

You wrapped your arms tightly around him, letting him draw you even closer with a sleepy smile. Your heartbeat began to steady. As he drifted back to sleep, you simply listened to his breathing. You were afraid of losing him, yes. But this moment, his presence, kept you safe.

Your breaths became uneven, and then, without realizing it, tears started slipping down your cheeks. The warm droplets trailed down your face, and for a moment, you tried to hold them back, but it was futile. The impact of the dream ran so deep, leaving a weight in your throat that you couldn’t shake.

When Eddie noticed the quiet sobs escaping you, he quickly turned. His half-asleep face was suddenly filled with concern. “Hey, hey... what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle, though his eyes showed a flicker of panic.

You couldn’t find the words, shaking your head as you wiped at your eyes with trembling hands. But that only made you cry harder. Eddie didn’t hesitate. Sitting up, he pulled you into his arms, pressing you against his chest. “Shh... it’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your hair. “Don’t be scared, I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

His voice was as soft as a whisper but carried a soothing strength. He held you like that for a while, his palm gliding gently over your back. Even as you were wracked with sobs, he stayed patient, waiting for you to calm down.

Finally, taking a deep breath, you whispered hoarsely, “I had a dream about losing you.”

Eddie pulled back slightly, his hands on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes of his, still heavy with sleep, were full of love.

“Me?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, sweetheart. Look, I’m still here. Still your silly Eddie.”

You nodded with a faint smile, though your tears kept falling. Eddie noticed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, let’s wash your face. This beautiful face isn’t meant for crying this much,” he said, gently helping you out of bed.

When you reached the trailer’s tiny bathroom, Eddie grabbed a towel and turned on the tap. The water was cold, but it was enough to cool the warmth of your tears. He soaked the towel and pressed it gently against your face. “There we go,” he murmured. “Fresh start. No more crying, okay?”

You tried to laugh lightly, but a shiver still lingered. Eddie noticed and rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh, so I guess this is my fault for picking that stupid movie? I told you it’d give you nightmares.”

“Eddie!” you protested, lightly swatting his shoulder with a small laugh. Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m innocent. It was probably those chicken wings cursing us. They were way too spicy, probably fried our brains.”

He handed you a glass of water. “Come on, drink up. Crying dehydrates you.”

When your shaky hands struggled, he held the glass with his own, guiding it to your lips. “There you go. One more sip.”

Then he led you back to the small sitting area. Before heading back to bed, he sat on the floor, pulling you down beside him. His fingers combed gently through your hair as if trying to brush away all your fears. “You need a new hairstylist,” he teased, tugging playfully at a strand before tickling your side.

“Eddie, stop!” you whined, but he didn’t seem to care. “No, no, this face owes me a smile,” he declared, fingers trailing to your ribs as he tickled you. You tried to resist, but it was no use; laughter bubbled out, and the darkness of the dream faded into lightness.

Finally, you leaned against him, still giggling. Eddie finished smoothing your hair before resting his head on your shoulder. “I promise you,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you.”

In that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to have Eddie by your side. No matter what, you knew he would always make you feel safe.

taglist: (the only one 😅🧡) @nicholaschavezslut69 If you want to be added to my fic's taglist, just let me know. ✨

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harmfulb1tch · 6 months ago

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Secret Santa

Eddie Munson x Reader

Description: Mrs. O'Donnell's yearly Secret Santa finally went well this year for Eddie Munson

Word Count: 870

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Each year Mrs. O’Donnell had the idea to have her class take part in secret santa. Whether you liked who you got or not, you had to participate. It was a grade. As for Eddie Munson, someone who didn’t give a single fuck about his grades and shitty classmates, always managed to skip it for the last two years. This year though, he was way too determined to graduate to care about any of that. Plus this year it was different. Y/N was in his class.

The two had never actually spoken to each other, but they would always steal glances at one another. There was something about her that he was so drawn to. That’s why he was secretly hoping he would get to be her secret santa. He’d finally get a reason to talk to her.

But alas, luck is never on Eddie’s side. He reached into the Santa hat that had the class names inside and pulled out Tina’s name. ‘Great.’ He thought to himself. He watched as the hat got around to Y/N as she went to pull out a name. He didn’t see the name, but he most definitely did see how she didn’t look his way. ‘There goes my chances.’

—

The day of secret santa Eddie walks into class holding a little gift bag with some candy. No way was he actually going to try getting a genuine gift for these assholes. He sat in his seat as the class started to pile in.

“Alright class, now that everyone is here you may all hand out your gifts.” Mrs. O’Donnell says, wearing that stupid cursed santa hat.

The whole class starts moving around and Eddie makes his way over to Tina’s desk. He places the bag down without a word, knowing she wouldn’t want to speak to him anyway. Eddie makes his way back to his seat and slouches down into it. He knew nobody would actually care to give the freak a gift, so he reaches into his bag to pull out his notebook full of campaign ideas, deciding to work on that instead.

From the corner of his eyes he can see the chair beside him being pulled out. To his surprise, it’s Y/N.

“No way you actually got Tina a gift.” She smirks and sits down.

“Nah, just some candy. Didn't even try.” Eddie says calmly, even though he is internally screaming right now.

Y/N lets out a small laugh in response and then reaches down to her backpack. “Well, in case you were wondering why I’m here, I am in fact your secret santa.” she says as she pulls out a little gift box and then an even smaller gift box sitting on top.

Eddie is in so much shock he doesn’t even respond and lets her place the gifts on his desk. She doesn’t seem bothered by his silence and instead smiles and says, “I didn’t really have the money for an actual gift, so I made you some stuff instead.”

He reaches forward and grabs the smaller box first. He opens up the top to reveal a bracelet made out of guitar strings with some added charms of a skull and spider. “No way. This is so cool!” Eddie says through excitement, nearly jumping out his seat. Some students looked over at his mini outburst, but he couldn’t give a single shit right now. “I thought you might like that.” Y/N says with a grin, happy to see him enjoying his first gift.

“How’d you know I play guitar?”

“Well, it wasn’t hard to guess," she says as she looks him up and down, "but I did see you at the music store in the mall a few weeks ago buying some new guitar picks. That’s what gave me the idea for your next gift.”

Eddie had almost forgotten that there was another gift box sitting in front of him. He slips the bracelet onto his wrist and then reaches to open the other gift box. This time, he was truly at a loss for words. He reached into the box and picked up a little mini bouquet made out of wires for stems and guitar picks as the petals.

“Do you like it?”

Eddie looks up almost in disbelief, “Do I like it? What kind of question is that? Y/N, this is insane!” He twirls the three flowers in his fingers to inspect them even more. Dark red and blue picks held together by hot glue, and even had some green picks as leaves.

He looks back up at Y/N, trying to contain his smile, and says, “I have to get you something now. These are way too good for me to not get you anything in return.”

“Eddie, it's fine. It’s a part of the game, you don’t need to get me anything.” Y/N replies, also trying to contain a smile.

“No, that’s so unfair! C’mon, just one gift. I’ll even let you pick. It can be anything, well, almost anything. I’m on a tight budget here, but you get my point.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“How about a date?”

Up until this moment Eddie had never given a damn about Mrs. O'Donnells, but holy shit was he sure thankful for her right now.

"A date it is."

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harmfulb1tch · 7 months ago

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Hi! I saw that your requests are still open. Is they still the case?

Of course! Please go ahead! The only thing is that, if I don’t do it on time it’s because I am busy and unmotivated these days. But please, go ahead

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harmfulb1tch · 7 months ago

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Our Time is Limited (18+)

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader

-- Platonic/former lover relationship with Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Synopsis: Reader has belonged to Caracalla for as long as she can remember, her job has been to love and serve him in the quiet moments when even the attention of a concubine cannot suffice. She has served the emperor in whatever capacity he desired. Through the years her love for him grew beyond what many would have deemed proper for one in her position of employment, but it was not a romantic love. The presence of disease had stolen the man she'd once given everything to. Left to care for Caracalla in the midst of his break from reality, Emperor Geta and the reader are forced to admit the feelings they've long harbored for one another.

Warnings: SMUT/sexual acts + "cheating" (but not really, Caracalla and reader no longer have that kind of relationship) + alcohol consumption + language (?)

A/N: Well... when I said the crazy emperors had my brain... I wasn't lying. I have not abandoned my Marcus Acacius story... I just needed to get this off my mind. That said, there may be one more part of this depending on how I feel and how this does. I apologize for any mistakes. I wrote this in a couple of hours.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emperor Geta caught your approach. His eyes locked onto you, searching for any sign of anxiety or nerves. He knew without question that you desired to be anywhere but here, and still, he didn't doubt that your loyalty remained strong. Your features were stoney and severe with your attention falling to his brother whose eyes were on the scantly clad man sat before him. The burnt orange of your stola matched the hue his brother famously loved and complimented the bare expanse of skin along the shapely curve of your arms and shoulders. You were positively stunning, every bit the measure of the well-to-do women who adorned their husbands' arms.

------------------------------

Hovering in the background, you squeezed between the spectators, inching closer to the emperors. The copper-headed pair sat surrounded by their entourage of concubines and common whores whose sole purpose was to entertain, to give in to the whims of the men they served. Your role was not entirely different, and yet, you were to be set apart from the others. Your presence at these events was required, but the emperors would sooner murder than allow the public to view you in the same light as those whose hands roamed their bodies in public. You served a much more intimate purpose. Therefore, you kept your distance, leaving just enough space between yourself and them so that no eyes would wonder and question.

Satisfied that nothing was amiss, Geta hesitated for a moment, seeing the weariness behind your eyes. Something troubled you, but given the state of his brother's mental well-being, it was likely as anything that was the cause of your worry. With nothing to be done at the time, he reached for the concubine he’d carted along for the day's festivities. Hauling her close, he let the weight of her hand against his chest, settle the crashing energy that sang through his body, but nothing was a match for the intensity of the fight that erupted amongst the gladiators.

The fight was brutal and quick. The larger man crumpled into a bloody heap, soaking the marble floor in a sea of sickly scarlet. The pool smeared beneath the weight of his body as the guards dragged him out of the room. The grunts and moans of pain were soon replaced by the questioning trill of Emperor Geta. The fight had clearly impressed him. The eloquent sound of poetry rolling off the tongue of the victor caught you as strange, but now was not the time to linger. With the crowd in awe and Geta keyed up, it felt like the appropriate moment to slink back into oblivion.

You maneuvered down a darkened hall, the only light poured in amber waves along the stone from the torches that lined the walls. The walk passed without note, the distant sound of chatter gave way to the echo of your sandaled feet. Each step brought you further from the chaos of the arena and for that you were grateful. No matter how many games you saw, the violence never grew more appealing. You couldn’t blame the emperors for enjoying the joys they were afforded in life, but that did nothing to change your opinion. They could eat, drink, fuck, and enjoy whatever and whomever they desired. Your job was simply to be there when called. No questions or judgment, and that was more than enough for you to handle.

The sudden clomp of footfalls barreling down the corridor sent electricity singing down your spine. Snapping back in their direction, you reached for the blade which sat flush along your thigh. The metal was warm to the touch, the heat of your body having warmed it palpably. No sooner had you freed it of its holster, than a familiar face rounded the corner. Emperor Geta’s pale face glowed oddly in the flickering light, the shadows casting his features in mystery. Sliding your weapon back into place, you stayed rooted to the spot and waited the mere seconds it took for him to close the space between you.

“Where are you going?” His voice was soft as he crowded into your space. His hands flexed at his sides, itching to touch you, to hold you close, but that was a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross, if only for the sake of his brother’s well-being. “My brother… he calls for you.”

Your face dropped to the floor, unable to stand the burn of his molten stare. “I am unwell… my-my head.” The lie was partially rooted in truth. The violence of the fight brought back memories of a long past day that led you to the gates of the palace, in need of a kindness that only those in power could grant you. The simple memory of which brought you real physical pain.

“Have you eaten today? Perhaps some wine and bread could cure what ails you. I have selected the best for our celebration.” A thin smile flashed upon the emperor’s face, pulling the corner of his lips up in a beautiful tilt though the grin didn’t meet his eyes.

“As much as I adore your taste in wine, I do not believe any amount of drink will ease the pain I am feeling. Now if you’ll excuse me, Emperor.” The swish of your stola brushing against your skin sounded as you turned away.

Panic flashed hot forcing Geta to move… to speak. “Wait!” His outstretched hand sat in the space between you for only a moment before dropping back to his side. “He needs you… he’s- he’s struggling. Today is not a good day.”

“I am aware, but he has you.”

“But I am not the one he desires.” Once again, Geta stepped closer, pleading with you to listen. “I fear what he will do, how he will act before the public today without you by his side. Please, for his sake… and for my own. Care for him as only you are able.”

The sheen that pooled in Geta’s eyes was enough to flip your stomach. This cruel and vicious man held his heart wide for those he loved. It was a select few, but those he cared for in that way were not only adored beyond measure but treated with a life only he could provide. There was a true sincerity to it. He held his brother dear despite the many rumors that circulated about the pair. Caracalla had long since been the subject of jokes and cruel speculation. It was true, the illness that plagued his loins had spread to his brain, eating away at the once vibrant and loving man he’d once been. And yet, no matter how much he’d lost to the disease, there was always a thread of his former self there to reel him in and back to reality.

But as of late, that thin connection between reality and fantasy had grown more fragile. It took a delicate hand to keep Caracalla balanced, especially in front of important company and prying eyes. You and Emperor Geta were the cherished few who had the ability to return Caracalla to this world, and increasingly, your loving touch seemed to be the only thing that worked.

“I understand. I will do what is necessary.” You nodded shallowly, acknowledging the favor the emperor had asked of you. “Let us not linger, it is unwise for him to be alone with those vultures you surround yourselves with.”

A flicker of shock at your boldness shot across his features, but he decided against pursuing the thoughts and questions that flooded his mind. Instead, he settled with a simple statement of thanks before guiding you back to his brother.

The murmur of people grew louder with each passing step until it reached a tipping point. Back inside the space you’d fled so quickly, you searched the crowd for Caracalla. It took only seconds to find him, standing beside the table overflowing with treats and wine. Your approach was lost on him, his entire focus settled on selecting the next delicacy. With his stability in question, you knew it would be wise to make your presence known before stepping into the space beside him.

“Emperor Caracalla!” The youthful man turned to find the person who’d spoken, and at the sight of you, an enormous grin erupted from ear to ear across his pockmarked face. “What delicious finds have you discovered for us today?!” The shirtless man who’d accompanied the emperor from before took one look at you and decided he was no longer needed. Relieved of his duty, he retreated to stand with the group of concubines that had formed near the entrance, greeting the guests as they moved to and fro.

“My dear!” Crumbs adorned the corners of his mouth as he held the remnants of a pastry in his hand. “Come! You must try this! It is simply delightful!”

The emperor met you halfway, holding out the last bite for you to take. You could feel the stares that descended upon the pair of you as he held the last bite to your lips. You opened for him, luxuriating in the sweetness that coated your tongue. Caracalla’s eyes gleamed with delight at the sound of your satisfied hum of appreciation unaware of how this interaction would appear to others.

“It was delicious. Thank you for sharing.” You reached for his face and brushed away the flecks of baked dough that clung to his makeuped countenance. Avoiding the open marks that even rouge could not cover, you pushed through the pain to give him the smile he so clearly wanted to see. The boyish wonder in his eyes was catching.

The emperor’s fragile hands settled on your waist. His touch was not that of a lover, but that of a young man desperate for the attention and love he deserved. Holding you close as he spoke. “Where did you go? I’d thought you’d left me.” Caracalla paused for a moment intending to let you speak, but the furrow of your brows kept the words flowing. “Are you all right? Your brow is pinched. You only get that look when you are in pain.”

Tenderly, you swept a stray hair away from his temple. “I am as well as can be expected, and please, forgive me for my momentary absence. The swell of noise during the fight was too much for me to handle. But I am here now. I would never leave you.”

“But you are not well… I can see it here. It is one of your head pains.” The pad of his finger ran between your brows and down the bridge of your nose. “You need not be brave for me. You must rest, there will be many more games for you to enjoy.”

Sensing a pair of knowing eyes upon you, your attention flicked in the direction of Emperor Geta and found him watching just as you’d suspected. Even without words, you knew exactly what he asked. The nearly imperceptible nod of your head assured him that you were going to uphold your promise.

“I appreciate your kindness, Emperor, but my place is here… with you. There will be time for rest later. Besides, I’m sure a steady flow of wine and pastries would do me good.” You forced yourself to smile once more before heading toward the table. “Join me. Tell me what I must try!”

A gleeful laugh bubbled from Caracalla as he followed quickly behind. The pair of you stayed like this, tasting and drinking until it was time to retreat to the Emperors’ box for the games. Focused only on the task at hand, your eyes never ventured into the arena. Rather, you studied the way Caracalla moved, the cadence of his speech, admiring the way his eyes lit up at the clash of swords. Through all this, unbeknownst to you, Geta’s attention split between the violence unfolding before him and yourself. He clung to the sound of your laughter and marked the hazy film that unfocused your gaze the longer the day drug on. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the pain you’d claimed to be ailed by earlier had grown nearly unbearable, and yet your attention never wavered. The dedication you showed his brother filled him with something he couldn’t label. The warmth low in his belly belied just how fully he’d come to care for you.

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Night had settled upon the emperors' residence. The halls fluttered with torchlight, but the depths of Geta’s chambers were a murky gray, illuminated only by the moon filtering through curtains that swayed in the breeze. The concubines he’d selected to entertain his needs lay spread out over his bed, their bare skin damp with sweat from the night’s activities. The only sound besides that of their gentle breathing was the rustle of the soldiers posted outside his door. One could never be too careful.

The blissful silence had him drifting into sleep when the sudden thunder of banging upon his door ripped him from the edge of slumber. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he reached for the knife that sat beneath his pillow, ready to defend himself should the need arise. Geta’d barely managed to extricate himself from the pile of limbs he’d been entangled with and don his robes when the frantic call of your voice pleading with his praetorian sent dread running through his limbs. Heavy with worry and lack of sleep, he pushed across the large room and ripped open the door.

The movement was followed by your lithe frame pushing inside his chambers, and what he saw only heightened his fear. Crimson stained your cheek, running down the smooth expanse of your neck before soaking into the luscious fabric of the robe you had wrapped around yourself. He recognized it at once as belonging to Caracalla. The fact that you’d been attending to his brother was not unexpected, but the wound that marred your face was terrifying.

“You’re hurt! Tell me at once who did this to you!?” Geta’s voice shook with the effort it took to maintain his control. Behind him, the stirring of his “guests” went unnoticed. His calloused fingers wiped gently at the oozing cut along the top of your cheek. You’d flinched from the pain, reaching for his wrist to still his ministrations. Frozen in place at the feeling of your touch, he waited barely breathing for your response.

“It’s your brother! He woke in a fit, he… he didn’t recognize me. He tried to- he thou- he thought I was there to kill him. He-”

“He did this to you?!” It wasn’t so much a question to you, but to himself for this was the thing he’d always feared. The day in which even your presence wouldn’t be enough to return him to this world.

“Yes.” You whispered, afraid of what this could mean for the beautiful men you’d come to adore after all this time. The pain in Geta’s eyes at your confusion was crushing. “I am so sorry, Geta.”

“Do not apologize. I will take care of this.” Forced to let go of you, he spoke quickly with his guards before dismissing his guests. The women scrambled for any scrap of clothing they could find and made their hasty exit.

Moving on his command, the soldiers hastened toward Caracalla’s chamber, leaving you behind with Geta. Alone, he grabbed for a chiton that lay draped over the chair beside him. Reaching for you, he pressed the cloth to your cheek applying pressure as he spoke, “Stay here, and keep this on the wound until I return. When I leave, lock the door behind me and open for no one other than myself. Understand?”

“Yes.” A slight nod from him was all he managed before turning to follow his praetorian.

Doing as you were told, you soon moved further into the room. You admired the lived-in feel it maintained despite the solid marble that made up every surface. The bed sat disheveled, clearly the night's adventures had been rather boisterous. Staring at the tangle of sheets, you felt the bile rise in your stomach. You laid no claim upon Geta and yet you couldn’t stop the bubble of envy that stirred in your soul.

The breeze fluttered through the curtains allowing you to peer beyond the protective walls of the palace to the streets of Rome. Even at this late hour, people moved about. Some lit their path with flame while others remained shrouded in darkness, praying they could slither about unnoticed. It took only a few more steps to reach the balcony. Fresh air filled your lungs as you leaned against the entryway, your nerves still buzzing with anxiety. Time slipped by unreliably. Each minute an hour, fraying the last of your resolve into shreds.

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Eventually, a soft knock accompanied by Geta’s worn voice pulled you across the room. Petrified to know what had become of the situation, you hesitated before opening the door. The wood groaned under your touch, but it was the tear-streaked face that lay on the other side that nearly stopped your heart.

“What happened?” You inquired, giving Geta space to slip inside his room. The loud thunk of the lock being placed filled the silence before he gathered the strength to speak.

Reaching for the cloth you pressed to your cheek, his voice trembled, the gravel in it even more present. “It is taken care of.” The soft thump of the chiton hitting the floor punctuated his confession. The pit in your stomach was anything but relieved by his answer.

“What does that mean?” You searched for signs of gore along the cuffs of his robes, terrified of what you might find.

“He’s sedated. May the gods right his mind during this sleep.” You watched Geta as he scanned over the now-clotted wound along your cheek. Though you couldn’t see, there was no doubt that deep shades of blue and purple had already begun to bloom alongside where the knife had sliced your skin.

“Come here. We must clean this or risk infection.” He moved toward the nearby table.

“It is alright. I can take care of it myself. There is acetum and honey in Caracalla’s chamber. There is no need to waste your supply or your time. You must be exhausted.” Tired only of pretending, Geta’s sturdy frame crowded your space, backing you gently into the cool expanse of stone next to the doorframe. With nowhere to go, you forced yourself to look him in the eye for the first time since he’d returned from tending to his brother.

Words clawed at the back of your throat, trapped beneath the swell of emotions that burned the bridge of your nose. As if moving on their own accorded, Geta’s sure hands found the curve of your waist and the stained column of your neck. Resting his brow against yours, the warmth of his breath drifted over your face as he spoke. “Stay here... with me. I do not care for the idea of you alone with him. Not after this.”

Geta’s chapped lips brushed over yours, never quite embracing the plush expanse of your mouth, but it was more than enough to send a flush rushing over your skin. Your lungs hitched at the feeling of his mouth falling to the hollow of your neck. He hovered over your body, only catching skin for fractions of a second at a time. Your hands found him, running the length of his chest before dipping inside his robes to trace light lines over the ripple of muscle that lay beneath the surface. Geta’s own lungs caught at the press of your hand low upon his abdomen.

Your whisper at the shell of his ear locked him in place. “I cannot stay, you know this. My place is with him.”

“That is only half the truth and you know it. You feel it the same as I… you belong here… with me. You always have.”

“My contract would say otherwise.” The raw ache in your voice pulled Geta back to look at your face. Silver pools threatened to fall as you continued, “Until your brother passes or frees me from his service, I belong to him and no other. It matters not what I feel for you.”

“You cannot believe that.”

“Then what am I to believe?” Defiantly, you pressed the flat of your palms to his chest and pushed him back further. “He is the emperor of Rome, the same as you. To defy him would mean my death, even you could not overrule that.”

“He would he would never have to know.”

“Secrets move like lightning in this palace. There would be no keeping this from him.” You moved to make your exit, but the firm grip of Geta’s hand on your wrist kept you from fleeing. You whipped to face him, striking with your words like a snake, “My death would be on your hands and I do not want that weighing on your conscience. Not now, too much rests on your shoulders. If you feel for me as you say you do… then you know what we must be to each other. We can have nothing more.”

“I’m tired of waiting, of pretending that I want anyone but you warming my bed. You are what I desire, what I have always desired. Must I continue to lie to appease my brother?”

“Your brother’s time grows short. I will not squander it and neither should you!”

“There are enemies around every corner, there is no promise of tomorrow. Why should I deny myself what I want most?” Swiftly, Geta hauled you close, his lips crashed against yours, devouring the taste of you. With your back against the wall once more, he slotted his thigh between your own, pressing you down upon himself and earning the most glorious moan from your lips. Caution was thrown to the gods as you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding firm to the roots as he palmed your breasts over your robes. The swipe of his thumb over your nipple sent shivers down your spine and sparked a newfound energy in the emperor.

He wanted more, needed more. The sounds of your altered breathing, paired with the dampness pooling along his thigh gave him the permission to keep going. With practiced ease, he untied the knot at your waist, and pushed the oversized robe from your shoulders, exposing you to him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He smiled against your skin as he spoke. His lips worked a line of fire from the hollow of your neck to your chest. The talented flick of his tongue over your nipple had you gasping for air. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Tiny whimpers from you accompanied his continued journey south. Dropping to his knees, he found himself mesmerized by the feeling of your skin beneath his lips. Calloused hands roamed the broad expanse of your stomach before dropping to explore your thighs.

Geta nipped and sucked at the skin there, leaving marks only he’d know existed. Nearly to where you needed to feel him the most, the emperor pulled back, leaving your skin on fire and your need unfulfilled. A whine ripped from your lungs as your eyes dropped to look at him, and what you found was intoxicating. Geta’s eyes were blown, the rich brown was hidden behind his pupils. Lust had replaced all other emotions.

Your fingers ran through his soft strands in a feeble attempt at guiding him back to you. When you felt him resist, you finally spoke. “Why have you stopped?”

Geta’s strong hands gripped the back of your legs, keeping you steady as he spoke. “Believe me when I say this, I love you. Nothing will stand between us. I vow to protect you until my dying day”

The emperor didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, his mouth returned to you, this time right where you’d wanted him before. The steady pressure of his lips around your sensitive bud would have been enough to bring you over the edge, but the insistent curl of his fingers in your core had you keening. Geta hummed against you adding to the pleasure. It had been far too long since you’d felt the loving touch of another. What existed between you and Caracalla had never made it to this point. For certain, there had been romantic moments, sensual touches, and lust-fueled encounters, but those had long since ceased. Even prior to the onset of his illness things had begun to shift. But the real change had come upon him falling ill. This had brought about a necessary departure from that kind of bond. The disease that stole him from reality also stole him from the urges that all humans felt, leaving you to take care of yourself in those moments for far too long.

But in this room, surrounded by only moonlight, and the man at your feet, you found yourself again. It took only a few more well-placed strokes of his fingers for Geta to bring you over the edge. Sparks tore through your body, causing your muscles to spam and your core to clench in rhythmic waves around his fingers. Carefully, Geta worked you through your release stopping only once he felt your body relax. Unsure of your ability to stay standing on your own, he stood to full height, capturing your lips at once.

You could taste yourself upon his lips, earning him a heady groan. Wanting to hear more of you, he brought his slick-covered fingers to your mouth, running his calloused fingers lips along them before dipping past your lips. The plush heat of your tongue swirling around him, sent his head spinning as he purred in your ear. “Good girl.”

You could feel him hard against your stomach, his own robes were now damp with arousal. The desire to return the favor was overwhelming, and had it not been for his next request, you’d have dropped to your knees just then. Geta smoothly whispered. “Let me take you to bed, even if it’s just for tonight. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Geta’s wide palms slid over your backside before lifting you gracefully into his arms. Stumbling back to his bed, he lowered you into the expanse of soft sheets that covered the mattress. With you safe and settled, he stepped back and removed his robe. Dropping the burgundy and gold material to the ground, his fist ran the length of his cock, tearing a hiss from between his teeth as he rolled over the throbbing tip.

Geta’s self-control crumbled at the sight of you sprawled out before him. Your hands roamed your own body fluttering over your core and massaging your breasts. With each pass of your fingers, his need to feel you wrapped around him grew too much to bear. Done with waiting, done with watching, the emperor lowered himself on top of you, collecting your slick with his member before easing himself inside. Geta’s strong arms caged you in, blocking out everything but the feeling of you and him together. He searched for your lips, needing to kiss you, but the embrace soon turned into nothing more than swallowing each other's moans. Each roll of his hips brought you closer to the edge once more, even as he clung to the final shred of himself.

“Geta, please…” The pitiful sound of his name tumbling from your lips, accompanied the drag of your nails along his back. Your actions were sure to have left a mark, but it mattered not. With one final pull at the base of his hair, Geta let himself go. You were soon to follow. Your ragged breaths matched with his as he lowered himself further onto you. His weight was heavy against your chest, and yet you knew without it you’d feel exposed. It was exactly what you both needed as you came down from your high.

As your breathing slowed down, the emperor rolled to his side, leaving you empty. You whined at the loss of him, but as if sensing your need, he reached for you, hauling you close. Your face pressed into his chest as your legs tangled. Alone, in his bed, Geta pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you close. For the first time in ages, the world seemed right, as if nothing terrible could happen. He knew that come break of day things would return to normal, but for now, he’d live in this temporary reality.

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harmfulb1tch · 7 months ago

Text

To Own, But Not To Share

Emperor Geta is buying a new sex slave. The auctioneer has a try before you buy scheme.

Emperor Geta x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, pure filth, dubcon, sex slaves, slavery, buying people, public sex, unprotected sex, creampie. One sided Caracalla/reader. 4.6k words. Read on AO3

(I only saw Gladiator 2 because of Pedro Pascal, but then became obsessed with Emperor Geta as soon as I saw him. Only had horny thought since then 😂)

Watching the women before you be paraded out one by one terrified you. The auctioneer was as disgusting as the men in the crowd bidding. Through the bars of the cage you could see at least 100 men all there to see what sorts of slaves they could buy. Technically, your owners could use you for whatever they wanted, whether it be household chores or physical labour. But the auctioneer saw the crowd around him, and knew how to sell the women for the best profit.

The first woman was brought out and stood still where she was placed. She was guided to turn around to show her body, then the auctioneer lifted up her threadbare toga to display her bare ass to the men.

Her ass received a hard spank. “Not much jiggle, but you could fatten her up to your liking,” he explained.

He then went down to kneel behind her. He pushed down on her back, encouraging her to arch it. With both his hands, he spread her cheeks apart. When he had savoured the view, he spat onto her hole. You saw the woman shiver at the sensation.

“Well would you look at that. A perfect puckered hole ready to be used,” the auctioneer teased.

It was disgusting, but it was your life now. Your new owner would use you however he saw fit.

The next girl was brought out. She was roughly pushed down onto her knees to kneel before the men.

“Look at those lips,” he mused. The auctioneer pulled up his toga and presented his semi-hard cock. He handled his dick and bounced it against the poor woman’s lips, before forcing it inside.

You tried to look past the assault that was happening and into the crowd. Everyone moved forward to see the spectacle shown. The sunlight reflected on something and sent a beam of blinding light your way. Moving away from it, you squinted to try to find the source, and that was where you found the Emperor in his headdress. He was surrounded by men in armour, you supposed they were his guards.

You knew you were going to be out next. And now you knew Emperor Geta would see you be defiled. The shame and embarrassment of someone of such aristocracy witnessing it, it made you want to curl up into a ball. But then the thought occurred that it might be a good thing. Out of all the men there to buy a slave, the Emperor would surely provide you with the best life. You would be fed and washed. You might even get a bed to sleep in.

You pondered this as the highest bidder of the woman on the floor was now getting his dick sucked.

“Would you like to continue with the purchase?” The auctioneer asked.

“Ah, yes,” the buyer replied, his hands grabbing his new slave’s greasy hair to force his cock further inside her mouth.

You were next. Two men grabbed you by your arms to roughly guide you out of the cage towards the centre of the clearing. They were instructed to lift up your arms and remove your clothing.

The auctioneer stalked his way around your naked body slowly, checking you out. Your eyes searched for Emperor Geta’s, but not in the seductive way you imagined. Instead, you wanted someone to help you. The reality hit you hard that you were probably about to be raped, and would be for the rest of your life.

“On all fours.” You were instructed, and slowly made your way down to rest your hands and knees on the cobbled brickwork. From this angle, the men could see your body from the side. Your breasts hanging, your bottom curved.

The auctioneer went behind you and you heard him getting on his knees too, moving his tunic. Your eyes found Geta’s, and they stayed there as you were entered. You were not aroused, your sex had not produced anything to ease the intrusion. The pain from the friction made you drop your head. Your eyes now focused on your hands in front of you as you tried to ground yourself.

“As you can see, she can handle a large cock,” the auctioneer boasted.

Geta scoffed. He thought it was pathetic if the middle aged man truly thought he was well endowed. He knew he was bigger.

“May I have a turn?” Geta asked, walking through the crowd towards you. The security team followed, but Geta made them stay with the crowd.

The attack on you finally ended, and the man quickly withdrew himself from you. You winced at the sudden sharp friction.

“Why, of-of course Emperor. It would be my pleasure,” the auctioneer stuttered and stood to the side.

“The pleasure will be mine,” he retorted and went to his knees.

The most powerful man in Rome was directly behind your naked body, and you were extremely self-conscious about what he saw. The Emperors probably had maidens to keep their whores beautiful. They would be bathed, shaved and plucked to the leaders’ likings.

You had not washed in weeks.

The Emperor hiked up his long white tunic, now getting filth from the ground all over it, and stroked his cock to get fully erect. He then spat down onto it, stroked it to cover it all. You then heard him spit again. This time he spat into his hand and rubbed it over your entrance. He did not give you much, believing that you would be turned on by being with an Emperor.

He collected your hair in his hand and yanked it. “Look at me,” he demanded. You knew better than to defy his orders.

He guided his cock to you with his free hand, and stared deep into your eyes as he pushed the tip inside. He was bigger than the previous intrusion, and you were still dry inside. Your mouth opened and your head turned to face ahead again.

“Look at me!” He fumed. When he had you locked in eye contact again, he pushed the rest of his length inside you.

“Gods,” you quietly exclaimed.

Geta smirked. This wasn’t just him having sex with a slave. He was showing off his power to everyone in the audience. Reinforcing the image of a powerful leader to his subjects.

His hands moved to your hips to help him thrust inside you at a steady pace. You bit your lip and nodded at him, a silent acknowledgment that you were fine with this, not that he would have cared if you didn’t. Once your body had grown accustomed to his girth, you could feel pleasure start to grow. The intense eye contact you shared made you throb.

“Tight, isn’t she?” The auctioneer encouraged, reminding you that despite only seeing Geta, you were not alone. The Emperor shot him a stare, displeased with the interruption.

He soon returned his eyes back to you. He looked gorgeous this close up. You got to see the makeup surrounding his needy eyes. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. You wanted him to rub his nose against your shoulders as he caressed you.

You let out a moan and quickly brought a hand to your mouth to stifle it.

“Let them hear you. Show them what their Emperor is capable of,” he boasted. For your own dignity, or what dignity you had left, you would try to stay quiet until he was finished.

Selfishly, you wanted to touch him. From this position of him taking you from behind, your hands had to remain on the ground to keep you steady.

“Lay down,” you quietly requested. You didn’t want everyone to hear you, especially when things could go badly. No one tells Emperors Geta or Caracalla what to do. He could have you killed for speaking to him. You had heard rumours of them killing people for lesser crimes.

His thrusts slowed to a standstill. For a moment you expected to be hit, but he smiled mischievously. You were making him appear desired and lusted over.

He laid down with his feet nearest the audience, this way you would block him from view as you rode him. You moved the front of his long tunic to his waist as you hovered on top of him. Your body had now coated you with juices, letting him slip inside so easily. Not knowing if he wanted a slave to touch him, you kept your hands on your thighs, helping you bounce on top of him.

“Lay back and let her do all the work. A smart move, Emperor,” the auctioneer praised. You could make him a lot of money if you pleased the Emperor, he could pay much more than the rest of the men there to buy.

Emperor Geta shook his head against the bricks. This wasn’t about letting you do the hard work, this was about pleasure. He could tell you were getting off, and believed beautiful creatures such as yourself deserved orgasms.

He began to thrust his hips up into you shallowly, only slightly, to help you on your way.

You wanted to moan and beg him to fuck you harder, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You had to remind yourself that no matter the pleasure he gave you, you were just another slave to him.

Your hand grabbed your breast, needing more stimulation. Like he could read your mind, his hands slowly touched your thighs, then moved upwards to caress your hips, stomach and ribs before moving your hand away and holding your breasts. He squeezed them before moving to your nipples to hold them between his thumbs and pointer fingers. You expected him to pinch them hard, but he softly tugged on them, causing you no pain whatsoever.

You leaned forward, resting your hands on his clothed torso. If you were alone with him, you would shimmy your shoulders, resulting in your breasts swaying side to side for him, but you could still see the auctioneer in your peripheral vision.

“How much for her?” Geta asked, his eyes not leaving you, enjoying the feel of your breasts and welcoming cunt.

“4000 sesterces,” the auctioneer offered. It was higher than the usual price of a slave, but he knew the Emperor could afford it.

“She is worth more than that,” Geta complained.

He was talking about buying you, you shouldn’t have taken it as a compliment, but you did. The Emperor liked you. You kept repeating it in your head.

He likes me. He likes me. He likes me.

It made you ride him harder. You grinded back and forth on his cock, desperate for one of you to cum. You wanted him to buy you, to take you back to the palace and keep you. His cock was angled perfectly inside you, as though Venus herself sculpted you both to fit perfectly together.

His hands left your breasts to caress your hips and waist. The metal of his rings scratched your skin as he moved them, but you didn’t care as long as his fingers touched you. The gesture could almost be seen as romantic under different circumstances.

In the past, you had made yourself peak when rubbing yourself, but you were about to climax with neither you or him touching your nub. When being penetrated before, you derived no pleasure from it. But something about his cock was different. It was like he found parts of you no one ever had before. It made you want to chase the feeling.

You rode him even harder, desperate for that elusive end. You felt it nearing and did not stop until it hit you.

And it hit you hard.

You had not climaxed in a long while, so maybe that was why it was so intense. Or maybe it was the Emperor’s glorious length. Your movements slowed to small grinds as your body convulsed on top of him. Your physical reaction on the outside matching what was happening inside. Your walls clenched around him. Tight, hot and wet. That, matched with seeing your body shake caused the Emperor to reach his peak too.

You saw his face tensed in pleasure. You felt his load shoot inside you. None of the other plebeians could claim that.

You moved off him to sit between his legs. His cock still throbbed against his belly until you saw it turn flaccid. If he was alone with you, he would order you to clean him up with your tongue, but he would wait until he had you all to himself for that.

You pulled your knees to your chest to try to cover yourself now that the act was over. Between your legs, Geta could see his spend leaking out of you and onto the brick below.

He turned his head to the auctioneer, “25,000 sesterces,” he offered. The Emperor would pay more if his offer was rejected. He’d pay anything to have you with him.

The man approached him and shook his hand, “We have a deal, my lord.” He had just made his entire projected profit from the whole batch of women he had from you.

Geta stood up and made himself look presentable again. “Have her taken back. Make the maidens wash and feed her,” he directed.

You were taken and placed in a carriage. They did not pick up your tatty toga, so you journeyed to the palace naked, the Emperor’s seed drying on your inner thighs.

You did not see him again when you entered the palace. You were in the slaves quarters, a large room filled with beds and dressing tables. You were given a simple toga upon entry, but told more lavish clothing awaited you. It was the first time being a slave you were given decent clothes. You were given soup and bread and ate it with the maids as none of the other women approached you. You assumed they were fellow sex slaves too. But you were puzzled as to why they would not introduce themselves to you. Surely they knew what you went through?

“Why are they all staring?” You asked.

“You are fresh meat. One more person to fight over the Emperors’ affections with.”

These other slaves saw you as competition. It made you wonder how nicely the Emperors treated their whores if they all wanted to be most favoured by them.

The next day you had two maidens bathe you in warm, soapy water. One of them focused on cleaning your hair and body, the other shaved and plucked hair from all over your body. It hurt, and you were terrified of the blade cutting you in your most intimate area, but this was how the Emperors wanted you. You had been told that you would join them today for your first day of work.

No matter how fancy and luxurious things were, this was your work. Your body had to look perfect as it was the only thing keeping you in the royal palace.

You quietly entered a grand hall filled with people. Over the other side you saw a large couch with the Emperors sat on it, surrounded by the slaves who wouldn’t give you the time of day. You found a chair by the door and sat down, thinking it would be for the best if they were not to see you. You didn’t want to cause tension, you would gladly let the other men and women shower them with touches if it meant it made your life easier. They might put on a show of acceptance in front of the Emperors, but in your quarters you feared segregation.

You kept looking up to see if anyone had spotted you, and in doing so, caught Geta’s gaze. You cursed yourself for not being more careful when stealing gazes their way. Geta pushed off the woman draped over him and gestured for you to come over.

“Come,” his voice bellowed out in the room. The woman who he pushed away did not seem happy, it made you nervous to make your way over there.

You wore a colourful dress made out of expensive fabric. Your hair had been combed and small braids had been added, tiny flowers placed precariously within the hairs.

He moved over slightly and patted a space between himself and the armrest for you to sit in. It was not a large space, you found yourself trying to shrink yourself to fit, bringing in your shoulders and crossing your legs tightly.

“There is no need for that,” Geta turned and said to you.

You realised that he wanted you to have to lean on him, practically sit on him. So you took on the role he wanted, you positioned yourself so your back rested on him, placed your head on his chest. His left hand held his wine, his right hand smoothed down your arm to your hand where his fingers traced patterns in your palm.

“So this is what you bought,” his brother noted from beside him. “25,000 sesterces is extortionate. You should have the auctioneer executed.”

“We are not short on money,” Geta argued back.

“She must be worth it,” Caracalla bickered.

“Worth every coin,” affirmed Geta.

He began to trace your neck with his nose, then his lips. His hot breath against your skin gave you goosebumps. It wasn’t long before he was placing wet kisses up and down the side of your neck. It was so sweet it made you forget your relationship with him was slave and master. You expected roughness and abuse from your owner, not kindness.

His kisses aroused you. You started to rub your thighs together for pleasure, wishing his hand would move from yours to beneath your dress.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered for his ears only.

He took a firm hold on your chin and brought you forward towards him, his lips claiming yours. If he did this with all the women, you could see why they fought over his affections. He made you feel wanted and adored.

He tasted like the fruit wine he had been drinking, amplified when his tongue went to yours. With your eyes shut, you couldn’t see the looks of contempt coming from the other concubines, like you were advancing on their territory.

You pulled your lips away from his and held his face in your hands, stroking his jawline with your thumbs. “Please, I want you.”

You naively thought he would take you somewhere alone, so were taken back when he put his wine on the floor by is feet and pulled you on top of him, making you sit with your back pressed against his chest. You would have sex with him in front of all these people, you tried to calm yourself with the thought that they do this all the time and no one cares. Or at least, no one had the bravery to share their concerns with the Emperors for fear of death. He pulled your dress up at the back for access, but left the front of your dress to cover yourselves. He pulled up his knee-length toga and slapped his cock against your wet sex. He did not need any time to prepare; kissing you had made him erect.

He did not give you any time to prepare either, good thing you didn’t need it. His cock slid through your folds, nudging your clit, before finding its home inside you.

You let out a quiet gasp, not wanting to make a scene.

“There is no need to refrain. Everyone here knows what we’re doing,” he comforted, speaking into your ear. “Show them you were worth the money.”

You moved your legs to kneel on the couch, making it easier to bounce on him. To anyone who looked over it was obvious you were riding his dick. Maybe that was what the Emperors liked. They got off on others’ humiliation.

Unlike when you rode him before, this time his hand went under your dress to where your bodies met. He felt your entrance stretch around him, then moved north to your clit. With your wetness, he began to rub. Lightly at first, but then with pressure in little circles. You wondered which whore taught him that.

“Emperor, I-“

“Yes,” he cut you off. “Explode on me. Feel rich with the pleasure I give you.”

When your orgasm hit, you shuddered and his cock slipped out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing. His hand didn’t stop rubbing. Even when you closed your legs to take his hand away from the over-sensitive nub, he forced his hand back there to keep going.

With his hand coated in your slick, he gripped his cock and started to stroke himself. He must have already been near as he only had to work on himself for 20 seconds or so before he shot his load over his hand and the neat patch of hair on your mound. He brought his hand to your mouth, and you gladly cleaned it for him. Taking each finger into your mouth one by one, sucking them clean. If you really thought about it, him feeding you cum out of his hand should disgust you, but you would take any piece of him he offered you.

You turned and saw Caracalla smiling at you, impressed with the display.

“I want my go,” he expressed.

Geta looked at him silently. He knew exactly what his brother wanted, but did not want to grant it.

“What’s with the face brother? We share everything: Rome, the palace, power. You bought her with our money. We both own her. I want my turn!” he demanded.

Geta knew he had no real claim on you. He had nothing to argue back with, so begrudgingly had to let you go to him.

You didn’t want to though. You turned around on his lap to face him, your eyes pleading him to help you. He could see your hesitation and silently enjoyed it. He shared everything, he just wanted you for himself.

“It’s okay. Go,” he tried to comfort, but it did not give you any confidence.

You walked over to him on shaky legs before he grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap. His hands went under your dress all the way to your breasts to squeeze them. Unlike his brother, he was harsh. He pinched your nipples then used them to shake your breasts. He leaned up to reach your neck with his mouth, but instead of his brother’s gentle kisses, Caracalla scraped his teeth on your skin, biting down now and then.

You turned towards Geta, but he didn’t see you. His gaze was set forwards, breathing heavily with his hand gripping his chalice so hard his fingertips turned white. He could not help you, so you surrendered yourself to Caracalla’s wants.

His hands went into your dress and two fingers quickly made their way inside you. After a minute of pumping fingers, he withdrew his hand to inspect it.

“All that cream for me,” he noted.

You wanted to slap him and tell him that your arousal was not for him. It was his brother that created that inside you. He was merely feeling his brother’s leftovers.

You looked over at Geta, but his eyes were still locked forwards, as though he was trying his hardest to avoid what was happening next to him.

You were pushed down, his cock spearing into you, and you knew you had no choice but to fuck him. You started to slowly move, and when Caracalla was unsatisfied with your performance, he grounded his feet and began to thrust up into you.

You held onto the back of the couch for support and looked at Geta again. This time, he looked back at you with sorry eyes.

You hoped Caracalla would reach his peak quickly to end your torture, but he seemed to have good stamina.

“He needs you to cum,” Geta stated, looking away from you again.

That would be an impossible feat. Why did Caracalla care about your pleasure? Why didn’t he just use your hole for his satisfaction like every other slave owner would?

Caracalla smiled at you; it made you feel sick.

“You came for him, but you struggle with me! Am I not worthy?” He roared.

“Of course you are worthy, my Emperor,” you placated.

You could try to fake your peak, but what if he knew? Would he kill you for it?

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he fucked you, giving Geta the chance to take ahold of your hand. He moved it to his mouth and gently kissed it. It was a kind gesture, but not helpful in your current predicament.

He placed your hand in one of his palms, and used his other hand to tap your palm. He did this, then looked at you, then looked at your crotch. At first you had no idea what he was insinuating. Then it clicked.

The motions he was doing on your hand. He wanted you to do it to your clit.

You unsteadily let go of the couch and led your other hand under your dress. Geta held your arm to keep you from slumping on his brother. He simply wanted you to tap for now. His tapping got faster, so yours did too. The tapping on your hand changed to slow circles. As two of your fingers circled your pearl, you were sure you were getting wetter because of it. Caracalla would think it was his doing, unaware of his brother’s silent communication with you.

Geta began to circle your palm so aggressively, you thought his fingernail would burrow into your skin. You rubbed your clit desperate to orgasm, and when it started, you let out a loud gasp to make sure Caracalla knew what was happening. Geta let go of your arm and your body fell forwards onto his brothers, further making him believe he had given you an intense climax.

Not giving yourself anytime to enjoy what Geta had given you, you got off him and went down onto your knees between his legs. You did not want him to shoot his seed inside you, he didn’t seem like the kind that would pull out and the thought of it made you wince.

You started to jerk his cock at a furious pace, desperate for this ordeal to be finally over. When he came, you directed his cock towards his belly, not to get any on you.

When he had finished, Geta took your arm and tugged you back to him, making you sit where you previously had been, between him and the armrest.

“Brother,” Caracalla started, “That was amazing. I thought she was going to stroke my cock clean off.”

Geta gave his brother a villainous smile as he normally would, but didn’t share his brother’s joy. He wrapped his arm over your shoulders, stroking your upper arm.

“Would you like some wine?” He asked, thinking it might relax you after what you had to do. You shook your head.

“Tea?” He offered. You were aware that if you kept declining him, it could be seen as rude, so you nodded and repeated tea to him. Tea would be easier to stomach than alcohol right now.

Geta raised his left hand and clicked twice to get the attention of a servant.

“Tea for the lady,” he requested, and a servant hurried off.

When they returned you sipped your tea and lamented on what your life had come to. Desiring one owner, and being repulsed by the other.

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