#commodus/reader

[hornedstorys]

Gladiator - Commodus x Reader - Birth

Warnings: Actually mostly childbirth and what goes with it, light angst

Content: You are pregnant with Commodus' child and are in labor. Of course, you want nothing more than to have your husband with you.

I have no idea whether the man was allowed to be present at the birth back in Rome. I haven't found anything about it, so let's just pretend that he was

You struggled to get up and the next moment you were sitting upright in bed. You breathed in and out deeply as you heaved up the extra weight of your baby bump. You gently stroked the bump, a soft smile on your lips.

It wouldn't be long before your child would finally see the light of day. You had to admit to yourself that you were scared. Afraid of whether you would be a good mother at all, afraid of the pain and, above all, afraid of being alone while you brought the child into the world. It was not usual for the husband to be present at the birth. But you knew you wouldn't be able to cope without Commodus.

Your husband was at a council meeting while you were supposed to be resting. Since you were pregnant, Commodus has been even more protective of you. He had always kept an eye on you before that and never let you out of his sight. He wanted to protect you so much and keep you and your child safe. A soft smile played around your lips again and you sighed. He gave you so much security and warmth that it became your addiction. He became your addiction. But who wouldn't fall for those shining eyes?

But the pregnancy gnawed at you. Some days, you felt like the greatest empress who had ever lived as you walked through the palace. With your head held high and your belly proudly displayed, swelling more and more with each passing day. And on other days? On other days you had felt so vulnerable. Your legs and feet hurt, everything was swollen and even your favorite clothes no longer fit you.

You have often looked at yourself in the mirror and looked at your pregnant body. By now you haven't even seen your own feet. It left a bitter taste on your tongue, but when your eyes fell on your big belly, you were overcome with pure joy.

You were looking forward to your child and Commodus in particular seemed as impatient as a child. Every night he stroked your belly with soothing circles of his hand. He whispered to your child again and again. How pretty his wife looked, swollen with his child. How beautiful her eyes shone and how much he was looking forward to him or her. Your gaze wandered through your room. It was time to stretch your legs.

You sat far too often because you simply didn't have the stamina to stand. The additional pain in your back and legs was also just annoying. You also missed your husband. You wanted to see him, feel his soft lips on your skin and be close to him.

So you got up as quickly as you could and strolled through the corridors. Your breathing was heavy and after just a few minutes, you were out of breath. You gently stroked your tummy.

"You're making mommy sweat a lot, little one," you sighed with a giggle and suddenly felt a slight thrill. The child seemed to agree with you, or not. Depending on how you want to look at it.

Humming and heaving, you had almost reached the large, ornate door behind which your husband was located. The council meeting would soon be over and perhaps you could sit down in the meantime. You could clearly feel your ankles aching again.

You were about to turn to look for a place to sit when a pain shot through you. A gasp escaped your lips and you put your hand on your stomach. A few seconds later, you noticed a liquid running down your legs. A pain-filled gasp escaped from your mouth. Maids near you had noticed the scenario and immediately rushed to your side.

But your cries of pain reached someone else. Despite the thick door, Commodus had heard your wails. He immediately jumped up, drew his sword and ran to the door. He ignored the absent men in the room.

"What happened?", he shouted, his green eyes flashing with concern as he saw you being supported by the maids and slaves. Beneath you, the puddle of amniotic fluid.

"She's having her baby, Caesar," a maid told us and Commodus' eyes widened. He was not prepared for this. He dropped his sword and quickly approached you.Your gaze caught his and you could feel yourself relax immediately. But the next wave of pain was not long in coming. You latched onto his shoulder and he held you before your legs gave way.

He held you tightly in his arms. His eyes clouded with anxiety and worry. He immediately sent for a midwife and her time helpers.Exhausted, you lay on your bed and felt one contraction after another. You had strictly refused to sit on the birthing chair. The familiar feel of your bed was more relaxing than the cold wood against your trembling thighs.

But the anxiety wouldn't go away. While the midwife and two other women tried to calm you down, you didn't want to stop getting upset. Commodus was waiting for you outside the door because the midwife wouldn't let him in. She was a stoic old woman and wasn't even afraid of the emperor himself when she slammed the door in his face, making him tremble.

As much as he wanted to kill her, he couldn't do it. Only because she was the only midwife present on the spot. You claw at the layers of the bed and bite your lips, groaning.

"Commodus!... Where is my husband?" you scream, looking longingly at the door.

"My lady, your husband is not allowed to be present at the birth," the old woman explained stoically as she wiped the sweat from your brow. But your patience snapped.Out of nowhere, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her towards you. Your face contorted in anger and pain.

"If you don't get my husband right now, I'll have you quartered myself!"One of the women gulped audibly and the midwife's eye twitched critically for a moment before she nodded and gave in.

Only seconds after your husband heard your outburst, he stormed through the door. You sighed with relief as you caught sight of his face and the next moment he was at your side. You reached for his hand and he immediately held it out to you.Encouragingly, he pressed his lips to your sweaty forehead.

"I'm here, my love." You closed your eyes and breathed in and out deeply as you felt his voice against your ear. Your head tilted and you looked deep into his green eyes.

"I'm scared," you breathed and Commodus' usually hard face softened.

"You can do it, I know you can. You will bring our child into the world, my empress and be the most beautiful and wonderful mother I can imagine for my children!" These words melted your heart, but you screamed as a contraction ripped through your body. The midwife sat between your legs and told you to push.

Commodus tried to hide his unease to give you support. But your pain hurt him too. Suddenly he straightened up. The loss of his warm hand on your skin made you whimper. He began to take off his hard armor and the next moment, he climbed onto the bed behind you. What was he going to do?

He sat down right behind you and gently placed his hands on your shoulders and pressed you against his chest. You were finally able to let yourself go. A feeling of security came over you.

"My Empress, you must continue to push now," the midwife spoke intently and you swallowed hard. Your hair was wet with sweat and you were overcome with fear again. Reflexively, you grabbed Commodus' forearms. His hands lay reassuringly on your still swollen belly. You squeezed his flesh to death, but he didn't mind. He had already experienced more pain. His lips found the skin of your cheek again and caressed it as you squeezed.

"You're doing great, y/n," he praised you and you leaned against his cheek. His caresses did you good and you pressed on.

"I can already see the mop of hair!" You heard the old midwife say, but you were too distracted by the pushing and the smell of your husband that you barely noticed. Until...

A scream echoed through the room and made you falter. You felt Commodus move slightly behind you to get a better look over your shoulder. The midwife placed your crying baby on your chest and you sobbed enthusiastically.

"It's a girl," the midwife said and your smile widened. You had always hoped it would be a girl. Simply because, in your eyes, Commodus would be the perfect father for a girl.

When you finally had some peace and quiet and could finally catch your breath, you were still lying in your husband's lap. Commodus never left your side and looked down with so much love at the little bundle sleeping so peacefully on your chest.

"She's perfect," he breathed and you pressed yourself tighter against him and smiled. Your gaze searched his. When you looked into his green eyes, all you could see was love. Love that he only showed you because you are his everything, his Rome, his empire.

"I heard what you said to that old goat earlier," he began to grin broadly, something dangerous sparkling in his eyes, but not for you. "This cynical side of you, I don't know it at all. I have to admit, I liked it," he grinned, grabbed your chin and pressed a kiss to your lips.

Then he gently stroked your daughter's head. His eyes softened again and he looked from the little bundle to you.

"I'm so proud of you."

[smallratboy]

Commodus Relationship Headcanons

Exactly what it sounds like. I've been very Commodus-brained lately...

masterlist

Commodus is a hard person to be in love with

Even though he's deeply in love with you, he can't entirely get rid of his moods or his paranoia

Sometimes you would find yourself at the mercy of his mind as he screamed at you, paranoid that you had done something to hurt him

Other times, though, you would be wrapped in his arms, his embrace soothing you and reminding you why you fell in love with him in the first place

You helped to calm him down when he was feeling destructive

If he ever did anything to hurt you, he would do everything in his power to make it right

When he wasn't busy with meetings or papers, he was entirely devoted to you

He would bring you small gifts, shower you with kisses and praise, or simply bask in your presence

Sometimes you'll wake up with his lips pressed against your skin, worshipping you in the soft light of the morning

If you like to read, he would ask you to read to him

Especially if he was having trouble sleeping, you would hold him to your chest and read stories aloud until he fell asleep

Commodus is SO touch starved, even though he'd never admit it

Every time you come up behind him and surprise him with a hug or wrap your arms around him in excitement, he would hold on to you for just a moment longer

You didn't mind, of course. You were happy to hold him as long as he wanted

Sometimes when his hair gets long and curly, he lets you play with it. He would grow it out like that all the time if he could

He LOVES pda 

Holding your hand, kissing you, having you sit in his lap, he loves it all

He loves to show everyone who you belong to 

Sometimes during meetings with the senators, he'll have you come sit in his lap

At first he was worried it would seem unprofessional, but he quickly got addicted to the rush of power it gave him

Not to mention he could start playing with your hair or kissing your neck and shoulder when he got bored

He can get very caught up in his work, and so sometimes you have to drag him back to reality 

It can get really lonely in the big palace by yourself when he's working, and he's found you curled up in a sad ball more than once

Whenever this happens, Commodus makes sure to take you both away from the palace for awhile

He loves to go to the ocean, and you'll spend weekends there together

If you find any seashells or stones to gift to him, he'd keep them forever

Sometimes he'll find one of your little rocks on his desk or in his room when he's having a paranoia episode, and it helps to ground him 

Sometimes he'll take you with him to the gladiator games

If you don't like them, he won't make you go 

But if you do like them, he'll love you even more. It makes his stomach erupt with butterflies if you get invested in the bloodshed 

If Commodus falls for you before you fall for him, he'd do everything in his power to get you to notice him 

He would leave you notes, little jewels, even going so far as to follow around like a lost puppy trying to get your attention 

If you fell first, it might take him awhile to notice you or reciprocate

But god help you when he does notice. His paranoia may be intense, but so is his love 

He would do anything for you 

ANYTHING

Even though Commodus can be intense or inattentive, all he really wants is to make you happy

an: if you like stuff like this, check out my masterlist! I have a bunch of gladiator i/ii fanfic!

taglist: @darknessisafriend

[mzorca]

In the eyes of Rome

Commodus/Reader, Hurt/comfort

Reader doubts her role as Empress, Commodus must make that right. 1,118 words

The day started just as any other did, the sun scorched the earth, making the air heavy and thick, stones sucked dry of moisture, slightly lighter in colour. The silk sheets of your bed clung to the sweat from your body, a welcomed light breeze flowed through the window of your sleeping quarters, cooling your back. However you weren't sure you could face the day- in fact, you dreaded leaving this bed. Something hung over you, it had been hibernating in the back of your mind but it weighed heavy upon you now. You felt immovable as you curled in on yourself, bringing the sheets over your head. 

Your arm stretched out to where Commodus would usually be, but as the gods would have it, of course, he was not there. He was Romes before he was yours, after all. You were romes as well, though, in an entirely different sense, you were not born into noble blood, but as all those who came before you, much was expected from the Emperor's wife. The pillar of the house, the perfect Roman woman, but- you could not care. Rome was a relentless mistress and you were merely a flash of light caught amongst its glory. You did not care anymore, you could hardly wish up enough energy to crawl to the floor.

Time passed, the day had slipped through your fingers like grains of sand, the sun sank below the horizon. You weren't sure if youd fallen asleep or if you'd been staring at the same frescoes since you awoke.

the door creaked open, and you didn’t need to turn your head to know who it was. Commodus stood in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the faint light from the corridor. He was dressed in a simple white tunica, the fabric edged with a purple stripe denoting his imperial status, and his golden laurel wreath sat slightly askew on his brow. He crossed the room in a few strides, his sandals clacking against the mosaic floor. He grabbed the small basin from your bedside, the one filled with olive oil and lit up a small lamp which crackled off to the side of your head.

“You've been in bed all day, are you unwell?” He spoke softly, yet stern, brushing a small lock behind your ear.

“No, i am merely tired” You mumbled, You wanted to tell him your mind, how you felt unworthy of the crown, of the senator's cruel words, the recurring dream you had, where Rome is rendered down to fire and ash, how you believed you were the reason for its downfall. You feared his reaction most, if he would banish you from Rome with nothing but the clothes of your past life upon your back. 

“Do not lie, I have seen exhaustion, this is not that” His temper was short lived, a sheath which thinly veiled his concern for you. His hand slid between the sheets, his fingers brush against yours in a whisper of touch, a question- permission, his touch light and uncertain.

“You do not know what you wish me to say” You cracked, you turned your hand and he grasped it in an instant, clasping it between his hands as he clumsily flowered it with kisses from where it met the joint to the very tips of your fingers.

“Confess it to me quietly, shout it at me, I only wish that you tell me the truth, tell me why you torment yourself so, Dulcissima.” His lips tickled the soft hairs that peppered the back of your hand, his thumb caressing careful shapes upon the softness that cushioned your knuckles, he appeared almost hurt by your uncertainty.

“I fear the gods do not favour me, Commodus, I dream Rome dismantled” You gasped, the tears began falling. “I see it reduced to fire and ash. The Augurs read the signs, and they whisper that I bring great misfortune to Rome” Commodus’ face began to twist ever so slightly, twitching faintly with the effort of restraint, his hand held yours closer, a grip too firm to be just casual.

“The Gods have smiled greatly upon Rome, The Augurs attempt to understand the gods, but their wills are not easily understood, it does not dictate fate” His tone masked the molten that threatened to spill over with each breath, a boiling pot with a rattling lid.

“But even then, why does that matter? The senate believes, they question my every movement, they spout their vile words as if I am not there.” Your chest ached, your throat burned as the words clawed their way up.

“Do not let the superstitions of men cloud your heart” He said, his voice low but firm, like the rumble of distant thunder. He placed a soft kiss atop your temple, his lips lingering for a moment, as if to seal the words into your skin. “Rome was not built by blood alone but by the strength of its people– its women.” His tone was sharp, yet his touch remained tender.

You took in a final breath before letting the words tumble from your tongue “How can I stand by you as an Empress? I soil your good name with my un-Roman blood.” His resolve cracked, splitting apart like crumbling pottery. 

“Quiet, I won't listen to this” He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours as he took your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away the tears that clung to your lashes.

“Do you believe I care for their approval? The senate's words are nothing but wind- empty and fleeting” The tension in his jaw had softened as he kissed your face between words, “I am the Emperor of Rome, I took you as my wife because I trust your insight, you are my name, my empire, my Rome.” His words hung heavy in the air, for a moment you could have believed them, you truly wanted to, but doubt lingered like a shadow.

“Promise me” You searched his eyes, the intensity of his gaze burned

“For as long as I'm able to draw breath” The weight of his words settled over you, but not the kind that set off a war in your mind– the ache deep in your chest dissipated, you were not what kept Rome down but was what brought it up. You leaned into his touch, kissing the palm of his hand. One of your hands wandered to the fabric which wrinkled across his chest, feeling for that familiar thumping warmth which always bought comfort. Rome was a relentless mistress and you were merely a flash of light caught amongst its glory. But that did not have to be a bad thing.

[darknessisafriend]

In case someone is having a rough day, some comfort <3

Let’s just stay here a little while

I’m back with Commodus! I wrote this for my gorgeous @beautifulyoungprospect I hope you will enjoy it ^^ Pure fluff! 

You are feeling down lately, thankfully, your husband Commodus is there for you.

You sighed as you took refuge in the library. You bit your lower lip, you felt like crying; in fact, you were close to tears. Emotionally the last days had been rough on you. Commodus had left to see troops on the battlefield further north, nothing was working the way you wanted in his absence…and you were worried something would happen to him…you didn’t even know when he would be back…you terribly missed him; his silky voice, his warm embrace; you felt alone in this immense palace, not even Lucilla could bring you the comfort you sought. 

You went to sit on the floor in a corner, between the immense shelves of books, slightly hiding you if someone would come in. When you needed to be alone, the library was always your destination, silent, surrounding you with wonderful stories and characters. It was also the place where you and Commodus would cuddle for long hours at night, reading together until he could find sleep. You brought your legs to your chest, hugging your knees. You needed peace, and comfort, you will stay there until you felt better even though you doubted it would happen.

Deep in your thoughts, an hour later or maybe more, you had lost track of time; you heard the heavy and yet quiet click of the door opening. But you didn’t look up, hoping the intruder wouldn’t notice you and would go away. However, you heard the steps coming closer to you, those steps were surprisingly light, almost careful, until it stopped only a few inches from you.

You slowly lifted your head, ready to tell the intruder to go away. But you stopped as your eyes landed on the feet of the intruder, those impeccable black leather boots with sculpted armored black and golden plates on the shins…it could only be one unique person, your dear husband, Commodus. Your eyes detailed his body, he still wore his armor, which wasn’t shining as usual, some parts slightly covered in dust…meaning that the first thing he did was to look for you and that made you heart flutter. You could tell by the bags under his eyes and the stubble that covered his face that he was exhausted. Still, he smiled, a tender smile that he only had for you. He crouched down at your level, still smiling, he had missed you terribly.

“I figured out I would find you here.” He spoke softly, he knew you by heart and he knew how much you missed him when he left. Your eyes became wet, he was truly back as if he had felt your distress. He lifted his right hand, his fingers coming up to lightly brush against your cheek; you leaned against his warm touch, bringing you comfort already. There was no need to speak, one look, one touch and you understood each other.

To your regret, his hand left your face as he swiftly stood up. You watched him curiously as he went to the sofas, taking as many pillows as he could in his arms.  He approached you, a boyish smile playing on his lips as he started to delicately place pillows all around you, behind your back as well, creating a nest of pillows for you. You pinched your lips together trying to hide the smile forming on your lips at how he took great care in his task.

“If you want to stay on the floor, at least make it comfortable.” He teased you sweetly, crouching down again. You watched him as he took off the chest piece of his armor, setting it aside, finding himself in only his white tunic. And as soon as it was off, you jumped in his arms, craving to feel his touch again, he sighed in relief, feeling your warmth, your scent wrapping around him, he was finally home.

“I’m here my love, I’m here with you.” He repeated softly against your ear, placing a tender kiss on your temple, tightly locking one arm around you while he supported himself on the other to make the both of you lie down on the pillows, you were tightly wrapped around him, clinging onto him.

“My little monkey…” he chuckled, covering your face with fond kisses; it was a nickname he sometimes gave you because of how you would never want to let go him when he hugged you, yes, you were a clingy hugger…especially with him. You both stayed silent for several minutes, filling yourself with the presence of the other, his breathing was calm, peaceful.

“How do you feel?” he asked you, his fingers lightly playing with your hair. You lifted your head to look at him in the eyes. His deep green eyes that used to hold so much pain and that were now filled with love and tenderness.

“Now that you are here, much better. I missed you so much…” your murmured, placing your lips upon his for a tender kiss, which he returned, sighing in content.

“I missed you too…” The back of his hand lightly caressed your cheek, his eyes detailing your face “I feel like a blindman, all I see around me is darkness…except you, my light, that guides me and protects me.” He smiled as he watched your eyes shining under his words, you bit your lower lip, he could be so romantic.

“Thank you, my poet.” You kissed the tip of his nose, making him giggle. “Give me your hand.” You asked him then, he obeyed and you took care of removing the armored piece covering his forearm “How are you holding on?” you asked as you removed the same on piece on his other arm.

“You know how I loathe the battlefield…the moment I arrived I already wanted to leave.” He spoke with a disgusted pout, battlefields only brought back bad memories to him. “But I kept thinking about you, imagining you wandering in the palace, in the beautiful dress I gifted you, smiling as you sat in the grass of the garden. Each night I prayed for you, asking the gods to protect you while I was away.” He added lovingly as you kissed his palm; then, he securely wrapped his arms around your waist.

“The Gods have heard your prayers, because they brought you back to me and I feel much happier now.” You replied, your fingers caressing his stubble, you liked it. After a bit you laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“What do you think of going horse riding tomorrow?” he offered, the Senate will have to wait, you were his priority.

“Gladly, I love it when we ride together.” You accepted happily, caressing the silky fabric of his tunic. Horse riding with Commodus was always a great moment you shared where you both felt free.

“Then, we will. For now, let’s just stay here a little while and enjoy peace.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head.

Commodus harem: @hopelessdisasterr @stellargirlie​ @rosebloodstuffandthangss @clowndaddyfleck @lyoongx @skaravile @jaylovesbats @niniita-ah @dreamingmaria @sagyunaro @just-a-fucking-comedy@spaceinvader @radio-hoo-ha @lady-carnivals-stuff @sierraclegane@legojorny @lemondedeniname @hvproductions @syvellsworld @charlie-sisters @papercut-paranoia​ @jokerflecker​ @bring-your-holy-water​

[syraxnyra]

Raw. Till I’m screaming. Next question.

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part one - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three 𓃮 warnings: none for this part, but future descriptions of smut and violence. 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor. ✧.* This is a dedication piece to the man who started my obsession with questionable men/villains when I was younger and it only seems the right thing to do with all the hype coming back.

There was something otherworldly about Rome. You always felt it, every moment of every day, that the impermanence of such a city would continue to ring through the annals of time. It had been there long before you and would remain long after. Many of the buildings may deteriorate and the people change – coming and going like the passage of seasons – but here, in this area of the world, Rome would come to stand the test of time. 

You had always been in awe of it all since you arrived as a small child. Eyes darted to every structure, every perception of movement, caught in a trance. Now, after many years, this place continued to enchant you. The lowly streets you grew up in did not last long. Your mother had caught the attention of palace organizers – her food was regarded as the best one could offer. 

Since then, you have moved to staying near the palace. It's so close to court yet so far away. Each day your mother would take you to the kitchens to help her as soon as you became old enough to take the stress of the job. It worked out in your favour, eventually landing you a spot as a servant with multi-talents. Such a thing was rare, and because of that, you were always busy. 

You displayed the same prowess that your mother had in the kitchens but managed to charm other experts in your youth to teach you different skills. From then on, the bowels of the palace became your sanctuary beyond the bounds of the chaotic streets of Rome. Whether it be in the kitchens, the textile rooms, or even the playrooms for the servant's children to stay in and out of the way, you were always found working. 

Today, of all days, you found yourself outside of the kitchen and serving instead. Recently your chores had changed to different duties that required you to be in areas of the palace you did not grow up in. You had learned to like the shadows cast by people as they scurried about the torch-lined hallways of the underground. Now, you were above ground. Serving when necessary, cleaning as well. 

You would not have minded if it was not for the piercing gaze of sharp green eyes that tended to follow you as you went about your work. At first, you had not noticed it. You were too absorbed in your duties to see the constant watch of the newly appointed Emperor. 

However, you caught on quickly. Emperor Commodus would watch you intensely when you would walk into a room he happened to be in. You did not dare reciprocate. Despite growing up in the bowels of the palace, you knew all too well of the habits of men in positions of power. Similar in age, he grew up with you, yet never once had you crossed paths. It was likely due to the protectiveness of your mother. 

Royal male children often became insatiable once reaching adulthood and your mother wanted to spare you from it. Yet, from what you had heard, Commodus had not the taste of princes that came before. Of course, there was still occasional trysts – you could remember a fellow servant giggling about spending a night with him. You could also remember the heartbroken look on her face as she was let go from her services and no longer permitted on the grounds the day after. That happened a few times; Commodus would take in a lover for the night and then discard them the next day as if they were a speck of dust on his feet. 

It was why his heated gaze made you increasingly nervous with each passing day. Any day you could meet the same fate as those servant girls and lose the only place you remembered calling home. 

You breathed in and out deeply, stabilizing the pitcher of wine in your grasp as you prepared to enter the large dining chambers. The Emperor was having dinner with some guests that night and you were tasked with serving. It was not what you wanted, having preferred to stay in the kitchens and make the food, but whatever your master Attius says is done without question. 

With careful and calm steps, you pass the large opening into the room with your head humbly facing the floor. It would be an offence to raise your head and make eye contact with any of the men in that room. 

Their conversation as well was no consequence to you. They were speaking of politics, of a real world outside of your own. There was no care in your life about politics. Why speak on something that does not know you, or rather women, have a capacity for things beyond what they have predetermined? Why should you give it any time of day, when it has not and will not do the same for you? Ultimately, deep down, you wanted to care enough to change something about that predicament, but you supposed you would have a better chance of fighting and killing a tiger in close combat. 

You made it to the table. Custom permits you to fill the emperor's glass first and you become exceedingly nervous once near him. Never in your time there had you been so physically close to him. It would be stupid to deny his exquisite physique. Commodus had likely been crafted by the gods, as it is with the royal line. He reflected the perfect nature of the gods and their mastered ability to craft the perfect human. Now that you were close, you could smell the scent of parchment and burning wood that clung to him. 

The pitcher tipped and you poured his wine. All the while you did not feel his heated gaze on you. He seemed too busy talking to the guests and them laughing as if everything he said was the most genius and original words to pass a person’s mouth. However, once you moved away and another started to talk, you could feel the shift of his eyes. It always caused your heart to race and the tiny nearly invisible strands of hair on your arms to rise. A tingle went up the back of your neck. 

The emperor ignored his speaking guests to watch as you poured the wine into their cups. They continued speaking, not wanting to call out their Ceasar for his lack of manners. They acted as though they did not notice his green eyes become attached to your form. You took in another deep breath, causing your chest to rise and contract within the fabric of your tunic. 

Once you were done, you made your way to exit. The walls had come to suffocate you, and each second under the green gaze of the emperor made you want to crumble and fall to the ground. A slave could not be in their presence for long. Many took offence to it. You had been taught that you go in and out quickly, acting like a fleeting shadow to quell their needs; preferably without them saying it. 

At the entranceway to leave, another slave coming in to serve grabbed you forcefully on your forearm. Callias stood in front of you, a sneer on his face. You tried to pull your arm from his grasp once but knew he would not let go. He had a habit of exerting his strength over the other slave women. You noticed that as a trend from other slave men. They often put down slave women in an effort to feel a sliver of power in a world that had taken what little they had. 

Pathetic, but then again you wished to feel the same way as them. Just a dash of power and a bit of control over the world would feel good. 

“Master says you have taken too long to serve them,” Callias whispered, “You are to go to the kitchens and stay there for the evening.” The venom in his voice, coupled with the pain of his grip, caused you to flinch. You slowly nodded and knew that if you were to say anything it would be taken as disrespect. 

Callias let go of you, nearly flinging your arm away from him as he left you to go serve the emperor and his guests. The spot he grabbed was red and you could feel the ache concentrated there. It would not bruise, but from how much it hurt that fact was not relieving. Finally, you were free and you made work of leaving. You nearly ran through the halls and down the flights of stairs to retreat back to the place you feel most comfortable. 

During it all, you had not noticed the piercing gaze of Commodus as he watched the exchange transpire.

You had found yourself lost in the rhythmic motions of cleaning in the kitchens. It was soothing work once a majority of the workers had left for the evening. The silence allowed you to think as you meticulously scrubbed pots. While not your favourite chore, you scarcely trusted others to do the work well enough.  

The motions of your work distracted you so much that you did not hear the pattering footsteps of someone entering the room until they cleared their throat. You turned around and saw a guard. His clothing was more refined than the lower guards and you swallowed some saliva that was in your mouth. A slight sting of anxiousness swept across your spine. 

“The Caesar has summoned you.” His voice was smooth and echoed throughout the empty kitchen. Your gaze quickly swept about the space, hoping he was addressing anyone other than you. When you realized he was speaking to you, a weight settled in your gut. 

 “Is… is there a reason for my summons?” You questioned. 

The guard did not respond, choosing to turn around and walk into the exiting corridor by a spiralling staircase. You knew there was no other option but to follow. Putting the washing cloth down, you dried your hands and followed behind the guard. He remained a few paces ahead of you as he guided you up the stairs and through the halls of the palace. 

It was not as though you were oblivious to the location of the emperor’s chambers. Despite your limited time serving above ground in the palace, you still had mapped the entirety of the place when you were a child. 

Fear began to grow in your heart and weigh down on your lungs. There was an inkling of hope that he summoned you for something other than the reasons he called for other ladies. Your stomach growled, aware that you had not eaten since earlier that day. In the chaos of your work, it was a frequent habit to forget food. 

In a matter of minutes, you two had reached the doors to the room. He positioned himself on one side of the door, the other covered by a guard that was already there. You hesitated, unsure of what to do. The guard that fetched you grew tired of your loitering and sighed deeply before reaching for the hand and opening one of the two doors. 

You took one final breath and walked into the room. You scanned the area quickly, finding a large well-decorated room in front of you. Various mosaics spanned the walls, adding a sense of grandeur to an already elevated way of living. Carved busts were on display, along with various items that looked like they came from places outside of Rome – lands far beyond that were reached by the forces of the empire. In the very centre rested a bed. Four strong quartz pillars surrounded it, with linen draperies resting as a cover over the bed. 

You saw the figure of the emperor off to the side, standing with his back to you and facing a table lined with various foods. Fruits, nuts, meats, and baked goods you could recognize as having been made by you only a few short hours ago. He had already eaten recently – a grand feast with guests – yet already had more food lined up for him. That feeling in your stomach of both anxiousness and hunger screamed for a reprieve. 

He shifted to face you and your gaze quickly moved to the floor as a sign of respect. You held your breath, unsure of why he wanted you here. Was your service that evening awful? Had he lost care for the food you made and have fallen into disfavour with him? Or, were you going to end up like those other girls before, used and thrown out? 

“Look at me,” His voice was like honey, a sweet tang with a rich coat. You slowly raised your head and made contact with the sharp and deep sea green of his eyes. They reminded you of the foam that would wash up on the shores of your old home before coming to Rome. In a strange sense, it was familiar, which unsettled you more than it should have. 

“Wine?” Commodus gestured to a pitcher next to him and two spare cups. Your eyebrows furrowed as you scanned the gold-lined chalices. He let out a low hum as he awaited an answer. 

“Caesar, I don’t entirely understand…” You trailed off. 

“I thought as much,” He proceeded to pour wine into both of the chalices while you stood there in confusion. His figure was dominating and he had a manner that held control of the space. When he finished pouring both drinks, he turned back around and approached you. He held out the cup, but all you did was stare. It was incredibly unsettling to witness someone ranked so high above you serve not only themself but someone else of lower status.

“Well?” He moved the cup closer to you, his manner mostly amused, but underlined with a growing annoyance. 

“Th- thank you, Caesar.” You took the cup from him. Commodus’ fingers brushed against yours, warm but calloused. He hummed again and took a sip from his cup. You held yours, staring into the clear liquid. White wine, reserved only for elites. You had never even come near it in your life save a few times to serve it. Now that he was closer to you, the familiar scent of parchment and burning wood surrounded you. 

His eyes scanned over your body for a moment as a short silence fell over. Moving almost hesitantly, he used his free hand to reach up and brush the red mark on your forearm. You flinched, both by his touch and the slight pain it elicited. 

“That servant, the one who grabbed you, why did he do such a thing?” Commodus stepped back and moved towards the table full of food. He plucked a grape from a vine and plopped it in his mouth, an action that surprisingly caused a stirring in your lower stomach. 

“My master thought I lingered too long, Caesar,” Your answers were kept short, hoping that there was a way out of this. You still had no clue as to why you were summoned. 

“Lingered too long,” He repeated it as though mocking, but not towards you, “What a ridiculous notion. You are too pleasing to be a blight.” 

“I-” The words got caught in your throat. In one breath, he had insulted your master and then complimented you. You shifted the weight on your feet and decided to take a large gulp of wine, sweet with floral undertones. “Thank you, Caesar.” 

He made his way to his bed, climbing the two steps of the marble platform it was placed on and sat on the edge of it. Commodus was watching you as you stood there, still as a statue busts that littered the room and unsure of yourself. 

“There is something you wish to say. I can see it.” His words echoed through the room and reverberated through your bones. You ran your tongue over your teeth, tasting the sweet wine once more. 

“Is there a reason for my summons, Caesar?” You questioned. Commodus looked down at his cup and used his index finger to trace the edge. He appeared almost… lost for an explanation. 

“Your mother had been one of the cooks, the best as I remember. I’ve heard you have taken that place.” It was an obvious means of deflection, but you knew not to rebuke it. You were also unsure of how he knew so much about you. Did he inquire into your past before summoning you? Had you done something wrong?

“Yes, Caesar, I have been lucky to assume the position.” You answered. 

He surveyed you once more as if it was a personal struggle to look away. Not that it was anything unusual – Commodus always looked when you entered a room. That was likely the deciding factor in inviting you to his rooms after weeks of watching you. 

“Have you eaten?” He asked. 

“I… have not,” Your hold on the cup got stronger and warmed up the surface. 

“Eat,” He motioned with his cup towards the table full of food. You approached slowly, unsure of what to make of all this. It felt like a trap, it had to be a trap. The kindness he was displaying likely followed with a payment. You would have to repay him for this, and what better way would be your virtue? But surely the emperor did not need to bribe women, so what was really going on?

You reached out for a dried fig and ate it. Your stomach had been aching for a few hours and suddenly the onslaught of it all overcame you. The food in front of you was already beautiful, but it intrigued you even more. Commodus was not watching, but instead sat still and looked at his cup in deep thought. 

Silently, you ate. It was only for a few minutes, but the deep satisfaction of a full stomach was not something you were well acquainted with. After you were finished, you set your cup down that was now empty. The sound was sharp and caused Commodus to raise his head. You were still unsure of meeting his eyes. They were so intense that they would knock the air from your chest and cause your head to spin. That was not what you wished to experience. 

“Do you like your work?” His question was sudden and caught you off guard. It seemed that all Commodus was able to do was constantly surprise you with his demeanour. He was not like he seemed and you did not know whether that was dangerous or not. Unpredictability was unreliable. 

“I am honoured to serve the empire in any capacity,” Your words, rehearsed and polished, seemed enough to satisfy him. Commodus placed his cup down on a small bedside table and fell back onto the plush covers. He let out a sigh before adjusting and moving to the other side of the bed. 

“Come here,” He beckoned you over. Your brain started to conjure up scenarios, all of which would end up with you unsullied and out of work. However, you were surprised to see Commodus lying with his eyes closed. He patted the free spot next to him for you to sit. 

Slowly and unsure, you felt the bed dip where you sat and rested your back against the headboard. He kept his eyes closed, content with your compliance. 

“Sing for me.” He requested. 

“Excuse me, Caesar?” You asked. He opened both of his eyes, looking up at you through heavy lids. The space between you two was small and your heartbeat increased at that. 

“I know you can sing, I remember hearing it at the Cerealia festival. Sing for me.” He was staring at you expectantly. 

In your memories, you could briefly remember singing during that festival when you were a girl of ten – only a few years younger than the emperor. It was your first time singing in front of a large group of people. It had been a celebration in one of the gardens amongst some of the other slaves, but Commodus’ words led you to believe it was not just the slaves watching. 

A deep blush settled across your face. While you often occupied your time doing chores through humming and singing, it was not something you wished to do in front of others. The only reason why you sang at that festival was because your mother had wanted you to. However, no amount of excuses could ever be used to deny the emperor, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and began to hum a sweet tune. 

The sound carried through the air of the large room. Gradually, your humming turned into light singing. Over that time, Commodus had shifted closer, now only a finger width of space separated you two. One of his hands reached out to touch your forearm that rested by your side, brushing against the fading red mark. His fingers glided up your skin, raising the hairs there. The thumping in your chest increased. 

Quietly, as if not to disturb you, he spoke, “The slave that hurt you, what is his name?” 

“Callias,” You answered. Commodus hummed and closed his eyes again, nuzzling his head back into the pillows. He settled down but did not remove his hand from your arm. 

“Keep singing.” He mumbled into the pillow.

On his orders, you continued the song you had been singing before he interrupted. A warm breeze came in from the open balcony doors, reminding you of the heat of summer. Everything felt like an odd dream. This outcome did not even come across your mode of thinking when you were escorted to his room, but you were thankful it ended up this way. He had not tried to seduce you or even force himself on you when that failed. 

It seemed he only wished for company. You could not help but wonder if your performance so many years ago stayed with him. It was a stupid thought, silly even, to think that young him would have heard a slave girl singing and remembered. It was likely that you were simply sent up more often in recent weeks and had come to his attention. 

At the very least, that was what you tried to assure yourself as the emperor fell asleep next to you. You were not sure what you should do but decided to stay and continue singing. You did so until the stars came out and sleep slowly took over your body. 

In the haze of sleep, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm.

(I am ignoring my archaeology degree to write this. Like Ridley Scott, inaccuracy is my best friend.)

(Also, no beta reader, just my manic thoughts.)

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

[lafiola]

incest, forced kiss, forced touching, commodus x fem!reader

The midday was intense and humid, a kind of crackling heat that confused the perception of the distant as if it were slowly melting under the warmth of the sun. You played with these shapes, from your throne high in the coliseum; barely protected by the shadow of a loom overhead, covering the followers of your brother, Commodus, and the noisy absence of your sister. You hadn't been able to find her in the morning.

The noise of the masses and the awakening of the hungry fury of the gladiators could barely distract you from the sweat and discomfort of the dry air. Boredom and hunger distracted you from the divine choice; your brother's voice barely reached your ears.

His hand, however, brought you back with the usual heaviness of his caresses on the contours of your face. You found his eyes on yours. A look darkened by the offense of your lost attention.

"Sister," he muttered through his teeth, forcing a smile. Natural sweetness under a tinge of shame, "you have left me alone. Rome and the Gods have waited for your verdict at my hand, and you have left me alone."

"My apologies, Commodus," you shook your head softly, leaning back against the back of your seat. "I think this heat is working against me. I feel sick."

"You should have stayed in bed."

"You wouldn't have attended the duels if that were the case."

"We could have stayed in bed," he insisted, returning to his seat.

'We could,' you repeated in your head, stifling a sigh. Since your arrival in Rome, after the sudden death of your husband and the murder of your children, seeking to drown your grief in the arms of your father and your siblings, you found yourself faced with the sudden departure of said lord father; and the seizure of power by your brother, whose sense of life and its natural rules had been altered by an altercation with his common sense.

Commodus had always been a sensitive boy, haunted by sorrows and obsessions. When you saw him at the head of armies and an empire like Rome, you thought that perhaps this would be the past—a forgotten child at the bottom of a drawer. You were wrong. If anything, it would have been your face soaked with tears, the fact that it was his first time seeing you after so many years, or the need for a feminine affection that came close to that of his deceased mother; but Commodus continued to behave like that same obsessive child, sick with wild needs.

Not only had he not left your side, attached to your hip like a parasite, but he had also intruded into your room to force his body into your bed; to share the warmth of your serene figure under the blankets, distributing caresses that you would soon discover were the product of an intense desire barely hidden under the face of a serious and harsh ruler.

That morning you had no desire to get out of bed. You had dreamed of your children, of your husband, and you just wanted to continue worshipping the memory of their voices in your head. Until Commodus burst into your chambers; forced a pair of jewels onto your neck, onto your wrists, just as shackles would be on a slave surrounded by misery, and dragged you to his side into the coliseum. 'Because siblings must be united,' he had told you with a smile. A big smile, and darkened eyes. Desire.

A chill ran through you as the match ended. A pair of dead gladiators was all you could see before you turned to look at your brother. He was already looking at you.

"Do you think today was anything memorable?" he asked you softly.

"I think I need to sleep," you whispered. "I'm tired, Commodus."

"You still look as beautiful as ever, sister. Not even the most divine sorrows will disturb your soul."

"I feel quite disturbed."

"Would you like to be escorted to your chambers?" One of his hands wrapped around yours. His thumb caressed your skin. "We could rest; enjoy a pleasant afternoon among delicacies, and delight in some poetry."

This time you couldn't stifle a sigh. Commodus let out a barely audible laugh, standing up and pulling your body towards his. A small hug; an eternal kiss against your cheek, barely sliding down to your neck before breaking contact. You didn't dare look around—embarrassment kept you from meeting eyes with anyone who saw that.

"An emperor has work to do," you whispered. Your breath against his drew a little whimper from him, completely incomprehensible. "We can talk and eat later, Commodus. Go and do your work. I'm not going anywhere."

His lips trembled in indecision, but he found the early reason needed to form a small smile. His body moved away from you; his hand still held one of your arms, running over your goosebumps.

"I know," he whispered. "I know that very well."

Nightfall brought with it a refreshing breeze. From the balcony of your chambers, wearing a pair of light petticoats and with your hair loose, you enjoyed it, closing your eyes when the caress of an icy wind ran down your neck like a pair of gentle hands. A shiver ran through you from head to toe; a nearby sound forced you to wake up. The moonlight helped you draw the figure of Commodus behind you—his face devoured by the darkness.

You brought a hand to your chest, stifling an airy laugh. “Oh, brother, you’ve taken me by surprise. What brings you to this place so late?” You stood up immediately, concentrating the annoyance of his presence between your hands clasped over your belly. “I thought there would be a banquet.”

His response was incomprehensible. He had to clear his throat, moving closer to the light to uncover his face. You found a pair of bright eyes, and an almost wild longing in them.

"The banquet ended suddenly," he replied in a low, secret voice, "and I found myself unable to sleep as soon as I found myself in my chambers. I thought that reading might impair my vision, as you advised."

"And how could I help my dear brother?"

One step closer to you, and his hands were able to wrap your body in a shy hug; delicate as the touch of a petal. You reciprocated that gesture until your heart ached with anguish.

"How much I've missed you, you have no idea," you heard him whisper against your neck. "What you've suffered, my dear, is irrelevant to everything you have here, with your family and with me."

"You are my family, Commodus," you said, your voice shaking. "Thank you so much for your consideration."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" His face left your side, resting in front of yours. "I wish I could keep you company and chat for a bit."

"I don't need company," you replied softly, "and I don't think I have the ability to hold a conversation without collapsing from exhaustion."

"Then I will support your body while you rest, sister; and I will make sure that on this night no daring of your troubled mind will destroy your dreams."

Commodus tightened his grip on your body, indicating that he would not take no for an answer. Despite knowing that he would be incapable of harming you on purpose, you nodded and let him guide you to the bed, where you rested silently in the darkness; away from the moonlight shining through your balcony, and the refreshing breeze that penetrated the chambers like a cold tongue from beyond.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against the bed. Commodus followed moments later. His sigh swept over your face with a warm caress; one of his hands ran over your hip, staying there. You tried with all your might not to push it away. Your brother insisted with the caress, silently measuring your limits; bringing the tips of his fingers close to the edge of your petticoat, forcing you to close your legs in an almost instinctive movement.

"It's like the first time," he said quietly; a shy tone again. "It's like when we were kids."

"We're not kids anymore," you replied agitatedly. "Commodus, stop it. Please."

"We used to be very close before father decided to let you go."

"It was my decision."

"You were very young, you hardly knew what you wanted. I thought you were satisfied here, with me and Lucilla."

"Life isn't that simple, Commodus." You pushed your hands against his chest, listening to him sigh. His breath, the ghost of a sweet liquor, swept over your face again. "This isn't right."

"We are not so different from the Gods," he whispered, approaching you abruptly. Your hands ended up against your chest, your lips against one of his cheeks; a moan stuck in your throat. "We are connected by blood, we are connected by a bond that we cannot see. In this darkness no one sees us; away from the halls no one hears us. It is you and me, like when we were children—"

"We're not children anymore!" you cried softly. "What happened was a mistake, Commodus. We were clumsy, curious children."

"And we're not anymore," he insisted with a whimper. "And I need you; every day, sister, when I daydreamed of you, and now that I have you here, too. I still dream. They're all dreams, and as a man I feel helpless."

"This is unacceptable."

"I can't help it."

You swallowed hard, breathing heavily.

"Do your lips miss the warmth of a kiss?" he asked. "Does your body miss what you don't want to admit?"

"I miss my husband, brother," you replied hopefully. "I miss him so much."

Commodus’ hand rested on your cheek. His thumb ran over your lips, entering the warmth of your mouth against your will. You had to relax your jaw, moving your teeth away from his flesh, using your tongue to taste the sweetness of a fruity reminiscence.

"Don't talk about him," he said. "A dead man has no place in our bed."

Tears clouded your eyes. 'Our bed,' you repeated in your head like a prayer. Everything that was yours was always his; everything that made you up, Commodus had to attach to himself. You were one. That's what he wanted—you couldn't deny it. Influenced whim spoiled the one who was once close to you, and now an ordinary man, with the fervent desires of a stranger in front of a woman's body. That was what he thought of you: not a sister, but a woman.

Commodus' thumb was replaced by two more fingers, running over the roof of your mouth, soaking his knuckles in your saliva.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered against your cheek, "the same way you always took care of me."

You shook your head, pushing your hands against his free one; fighting against the other fingers that tried to get between your clothes, brushing the inside of your thighs. As soon as you managed to pull your hands away, Commodus' fingers left your mouth, and the pressure of his body on yours left you immobilized. In the darkness you found the shine of his eyes, like small stones.

You let out the rest of your tears, struggling against his brute strength; fighting until exhaustion, falling under him again. Your gasps and his were the only things you heard, little closer to the murmur of the wind outside.

"Please, Commodus," you sobbed, "you are my brother and I love you very much. I love you with all my heart, Commodus. Please..."

"That's why this is a beautiful thing," he insisted pleadingly. "From this union something beautiful could be born, yours and mine. Something ours." His lips moved across your face, drinking in your tears and soothing the burn on your skin. "You're mine again now. I couldn't bear the pain of having to share your flesh; the anguish of knowing that somewhere in the world, you rested beside an undeserving man."

"That man was my husband," you said. "You are my brother, Commodus. We are family."

"What is a title, but a mere word; empty and useless in the face of our needs. I am a man in love, in need of a woman," he replied. His lips rested on yours, just for a few moments. "You are more than I could ever have wished for. You are everything Rome means to me."

"The fury of the Gods will fall like a rain of fire upon us."

"It must burn, then," he sighed. "Let it burn in our name. If I am to have you and it is not here, it will be in death."

[darknessisafriend]

You're so right ! We don't have enough! Please do part 2 !❤️

(I'm also working on a part 2;of Commodus x male! guard reader 🥰)

WHERE ARE THE COMMODUS X MALE READER FANFICS??WE ARE BEING STARVED.

General plot:Rome and Hibernia were having slight bickering over water territory and to stop tensions rising, yn’s father offered his youngest son, as he had no daughters and the oldest was the heir to the throne, so he had to use the “spare”.

“WHAT!ARE YOU CRAZY??”

Y/n hears the arguing yet again, for yet another night..recently, the arguing had gotten worse, although he wasn’t quite sure why, all he knew was that we had “offended” all of Rome, by accidentally entering their waters whilst exploring.We’d not been alerted and once the Romans had caught wind that there was foreign ships in their water-we were immediately shot down, much to our shock and horror..

I hear my father huff, before sighing trudging through the hall and towards my chambers, as he knocks at the door, as I scramble to my bed, trying to prove I hadn’t been eavesdropping.My father slowly trudged in and sat on the bed next to me, although he raised an eyebrow at my hint of anxiety that had coated my face like an invisible barrier.He was crowned king of Hibernia long ago, but he was well past his prime, he was nearing his end-we all knew it, but nobody dare say it, in fear of the gods taking our words to heart.

My father, he gently took my hands into his own and gazed up at me, doubt, concern and defeat eminently carved across his features..

I knew it must be of grave concern if he was to sit me down at the foot of my bed, perhaps someone died?No, I wasn’t that naïve-I knew it was to do with the filthy Romans.

“Y/n..”My old, feeble father murmured, refusing to meet my eye. “…You know we’ve had trouble when it comes to the Romans..”I nod my head understandingly, yet curious as to where this will go.

“Yes father..”I warily replied, concerned by his lack of eye contact.

“Well, you know how your oldest brother, Oisín is to take over once I’m done. It’ll be…a lot of responsibility..”I nod, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, we’ve deeply offended the Romans…of whom they belong to the most ruthless empire, well….we’ve began negotiations with their senators and….” He turns his head away, guilt written all over him; “well, the emperor asked for a marriage to seal the peace, we’d be allowed to explore their territory but in exchange…” I didn’t like where this was heading..

“You’re to wed the emperors son, Commodus.”

My eyes widen as I manage to splutter out “Father-that boy is ruthless, we’ve heard all the tales of his brutality, what if I’m killed-“ “Stop it y/n.My decision is final.” My father scolds, I’ve never seen him in such a foul mood..

.

.

.

.

It’s been a few months since I had that talk since my father, since then I’ve been saying my goodbyes to my close friends, family and such, before setting off with a few servants and nobles-men, along with my older brother and heir to the throne-Oisín, he is here in my fathers place whilst my father tends to the more tedious duty’s.

As we waited to disembark , I practiced my latin, I’d only started taking private lessons since discovering the scary future that awaited me, but I’d been quick at catching and it was slowly..very slowly, starting to grow on me.

Eventually, servants began to walk out first, then politicians, then my brother and I.

“You’re gonna be okay y/n” he assures, touching my h/c hair.

I nod slowly, trying to believe his words..

((A/n: should I do a part 2?I wrote this at 5am so it’s literal caca but us make Commodus simps are STARVEDD.))

[sualocin]

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.” Ch. 1 - Harsh Beginnings

Emp!Commodus x Reader

summary: you are to be married to the emperor of rome, but he hates you. or at least he acts like it.

content warning: angst, hurt / comfort, commodus being a dick

word count: 1.8k

a/n: It is my mental illness and I get to pick the delusions. AU where Marcus died of natural causes (because I don't want my boy to go through the pain of killing his father), Maximus and co are fine with no threat to overthrow Commodus (yet?). Also I whole-heartily ignore the sister mess in this fic because god dammit let me live in my delulu thoughts where his ending is happy (because he deserves love and kindness). This is literally such a self-indulgent fic but I try to not describe the reader besides clothing and the use of female pronouns. If you catch something that does not fit let me know!

no beta reader we die like gladiators

blog dividers by @cafekitsune!

masterlist . . . read it on ao3 . . .

Commodus looked regal, sitting there in his throne above the bloodstained arena. Cerulean eyes focused on the fighting gladiators below, face propped up with his right hand, adorned with the jeweled rings of an emperor. Something like boredom was plastered across his face, at least it seemed that way from your position slightly behind him and to his left. A fitting placement for someone supposed to be the Emperor’s wife. Even seated there, fully dressed in the matching deep purples and blacks of your husband’s outfit, you felt as if you didn’t belong. At least he made it feel as if you didn’t. 

From the moment you were told that you were to be betrothed to the future Emperor of Rome, you knew it would be difficult to learn to love each other as much as your parent’s love each other. Yet, it was so easy for you to fall in love with him, almost at the first sighting of the aforementioned man. His charming smile, that you now know he put on as a mask to hide his anger from having a woman he did not know thrust into his life as his soon to be wife, as well as his enchanting words that hid his true feelings of disdain towards you, made you feel comfortable at the time. As you got settled into the palace, and interacted with his sister Lucilla  and her son Lucius more than him, the feelings of being unwanted began to sow inside of you.

It truly wasn’t bad at first, you would see him at meal times, and there he would be ‘pleasant’ to you. As pleasant as ignoring your existence could be. He instead only interacted with his sister and nephew, purposely excluding you from whatever conversation he was holding with them. There were however, a few times he did try to get to know you, most likely at the behest of Lucilla.

It was an early evening the first time he decided to enter your temporary chambers, the blazing sun just beginning to set in the expansive sky. The final meal for the day not yet served, but already you wish for the sweet comfort of your bed.

“What was your life like? Back with your family?” He questioned softly, hands fiddling with his various rings as he sat on one of the chairs provided to you when you arrived. He seemed almost nervous to be completely alone with you since your initial meeting.

“It was nice, a beautiful city if I’m honest… I was surrounded by loving parents and the greatest teachers they could find. Rolling green hills that would sprout with flowers every spring,” You replied, thinking of your beloved homeland and the wonderful people and animals that still resided there even with you gone.

Taking a moment to relish in the fact that he was sitting in your chambers, conversing with you rather than ignoring your presence entirely, you observed his more casual outfit. It consisted of a red chiton over a black tunic with a patterned cape over his right shoulder. It looked absolutely marvelous on him, but you were definitely not going to say anything like that to his face at this point in your limited interactions. Because no matter how glorious he looked, he still seemed to be upset with your presence in his and his family’s home.

“It sounds like an alluring place to call home. Do you miss it?” He asked as he finally brought his gaze up to your eyes. The genuine curiosity in his eyes confused you, wasn’t he disgusted by your mere presence? What made him have a sudden interest in your previous home? Unable to respond with his cerulean eyes boring straight into yours, you got up and moved to lean against the doorway to the balcony of your chambers in order to look out onto the great city of Rome. The slight breeze coming in makes your light blue, nearly the same color as his eyes thanks to Lucilla, stola and palla flutter behind you. 

“Of course I do,” You blurt out immediately, almost taking on a snappy tone. Tensing yourself up at the suddenness, and more importantly the rudeness of your own response to him, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. Your hands raise to grasp at your biceps to comfort your rising anxiety, your grip tightening when you hear the chair Commodus was sitting on scrape against the floor as he shoots up at your response. Even from across the room you can hear the way he inhaled sharply. You were too afraid to witness his most likely anger fueled reaction, so you stayed facing the city and the setting sun.

“I did not ask for this betrothal!” He exclaims, hands slamming down on the table. His breath coming out in short huffs. Tension just radiating off him in waves.

“I didn’t either,” You manage to croak out as your eyes begin to mist over, fingers tightening their almost impossible tight grip already. At the sound of your voice, Commodus lets some of the tension release as he realizes just what his little outburst did to you.

“...I am sorry,” He whispers, gaze focused on the table below him, sincerely regretting his anger towards you. A second passes after his apology, and then he rushes out the door leaving you to wallow in your feelings of anxiety and uncertainty. 

The last meal of that day was tense, no conversations were held that night between anyone as they ate and drank. Not even between Lucius and his mother. It was as if anyone who entered the room could sense that something had happened between the two of you. You could feel Commodus glance at you every so often as the meal went on, but you kept your eyes on your own plate and cup. As soon as you finished, or rather as soon as you felt you couldn’t stand to be in that room for any longer, you excused yourself back to your chambers. It was after you left that Lucilla finally spoke to her brother.

“Commodus, what did you say to the poor girl?” She asked, resting her chin on folded hands and looking straight at him. She knew he could not lie to her, at least she would know if he did.

“I told her what I felt I needed to,” was the only response she would get from him before he abruptly got up from his seat and left the table. 

‘Perhaps they are more alike than they realize,’ Lucilla thought.

It was about two days later when Lucilla caught you watching Commodus train, tunic-less mind you, with his praetorian guardsmen in the expansive courtyard. She could see your eyes following his movements, so intensely zoned in on watching that you didn’t even hear her approach.

“He is quite proud of his swordsmanship,” She told you as she stood behind you. You rapidly inhaled and jumped slightly, hand moving up to fall over your racing heart from the scare.

“Gods above! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You harshly whispered over your shoulder at Lucilla, heartbeat steadily calming down from the unexpected interruption. You turn your gaze back to the ongoing spar. Hearing the grunts and exclamations coming from Commodus and his guardsmen was very alluring, along with being able to see the sweat that drips down his exposed body. Even with the feelings of hatred towards you, he was a handsome man. Who could fault you for thinking so? 

“How are things going between you two?” Lucilla asked, coming forward to stand by your right side and face you.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” You retorted. Head shifting to have Lucilla in your frame of vision. The sounds of the spar fading to the background.

“Commodus… he needs time to trust people. I think Lucius and myself are the only people he truly trusts with every fiber of his being. I wouldn’t take it to heart if he has done anything to upset you,” She explains, left hand coming up to rest gently on your shoulder.

“Do you feel anything for him? In any capacity? Knowing where your feelings stand could help me with giving you proper advice,” Lucilla continues, eyes full of sympathy for your ongoing problem.

“The worst thing about this situation is that I think I do feel some sort of way towards him that isn’t absolute contempt or hatred,” You said, taking a deep breath before you continued.

“I see the way he treats you and Lucius. I see how gentle, kind, and compassionate he can be towards the people he loves. It hurts me to know that I will not receive that same treatment he gives you, because I am simply not someone he loves or will ever love. Even if I desire to be,” You admit your thoughts to Lucilla with a slight tremble in your voice, your true emotions about Commodus rising to the surface of your mind and heart. 

“The wedding is in a month's time, how could I get him to feel some type of way towards me that isn’t pure hate?” You could feel your eyes misting up from the anxiety deep inside you about everything that has and will happen to you because of this arrangement.

The spar in the background was beginning to wind down, both Commodus and his guardsmen started racking their weapons and wiping away their sweat from their hard workout. Turning your head towards the courtyard at the change in noises, you were greeted by a very glorious sight. Commodus, still tunic-less, basking in the rain of cool water being poured over his head. You felt your cheeks burn at the very enticing sight before you. Being able to witness the vision of a dripping wet Commodus with his head tilted towards the sky and his eyes closed was like looking at a god among humans. Lucilla, dropping her hand from your shoulder and turning her head towards whatever had caught your gaze again, was not shocked to see you eyeing her brother. She hid a quiet chuckle behind her hand at the sight.

“You look at him with such wonder in your eyes. I think you enjoy the sight of him more than you let on,” She said, words shocking you out of your trance forcing you to look towards her again.

“Come by my chambers when you’re done here, we will discuss your situation at length,” Lucilla winked at you as she turned and walked away towards the inside of the palace. You faced back towards the courtyard, cheeks still hot from the words said to you and the beautiful visual you had gotten, startled to find that Commodus had been watching you and his sister interact just out of earshot. His piercing cerulean eyes caught yours, but you could not identify what emotion was held in them. Could he tell what you and his sister were talking about? Gods, did he hear? You broke the miniature staring contest between the two of you and rushed towards the location of your temporary chambers, wanting to get away from the awkward situation brewing between you two.

There's the first chapter! I wanted to get back into fanfiction writing for a while now and having little fics about this subby lil man got me kicked into gear! Idk how many chapters it will have, but I am excited for this story to unfold!

tags: @darknessisafriend

[ekkkkey]

there will be games! (chapter II)

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

warnings: 18+ minors dni, noncon, dub-con, non-consensual drug use, when the emperor is a bit insane, mommy issues, daddy issues, every kind of issues—this little shit has them all (he’s so cute)

word count: 5k words

chapter I

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

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

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She didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave their room, all she wanted was to go home. Not to their new villa in Rome, not even to her husband's old house. Cassandra longed for her childhood home, with her father and sisters, where she could always be the little girl.

"You're an early bird today," Tiberius said, waking and stretching towards her.

Her heart skipped, her palms sweaty with worry.

"Those who apologize properly deserve forgiveness, don't they, little bird?" - another voice, deceptively tender but promising nothing good, echoed in her mind.

Cassandra wrapped herself tighter in the sheet, licking her lips, hiding her body from her husband, not wanting his touch.

"I slept poorly. And I don't feel well. When will we return home?"

Tiberius got up, his brief morning tenderness replaced by his usual sour mood.

"When the games end. Not before. I've got business."

Normally gentle and shy, she never argued with him, but this time, she tossed the sheet aside and jumped up, chasing after him, desperate to talk face-to-face. Her hands shook. She pictured herself – pale, nervous, dark circles under her eyes, hair a mess, more like a madwoman than a loving wife. Ashamed of her sudden anger, Cassandra covered up again.

"I feel awful, I'm nauseous, could it be a child, Tiberius?" she tried to elicit some sympathy, pressing her hand to her stomach.

She couldn't stand another moment in the palace.

"Tell me, wife, what troubles you so much?" - he took a step forward. She had never truly feared him, but suddenly realized that after yesterday, both he disgusted her and she feared him. It was his fault! Everything that happened to her was his fault!

"I'm really not well."

"And where better than the emperor's palace to find a good physician?"

Realizing her words were futile, she slumped back on the bed's edge, and Tiberius knelt in front of her, resting his cheek against her leg.

"The emperor," he began, "Emperor Caracalla, he's ill. His mind is rotting, just like his body, so you won't find better physicians here. Should I call someone for you?"

Cassandra couldn't breathe, pulling away from her husband, standing up in a daze, not caring about her nudity. Even when servants walked in, she didn't cover up, lost in dark thoughts.

Emperor Caracalla's mind was afflicted by a disease? What kind of disease? She knew nothing about medicine and couldn't even guess. Did this make him more dangerous, or was his nature already cruel and violent? His smirking face flashed in her mind, his mood swings, his smile turning to a sneer...

Cassandra flinched when someone touched her from behind. She quickly scolded herself.

"Stop, he won't burst into your chambers while you're with your husband!" - she repeated, but she didn't believe it, if he wanted, he'd take her right in front of Tiberius, and no one would stop him.

She spent the entire morning trying to comfort herself, but her anxiety only grew. First, Tiberius noticed the purple bite on her skin. She managed to excuse it, saying he'd had too much wine and hadn't been gentle with her in bed. He believed her.

She was horrified again when the slave girls began to dress her.

"This isn't my clothing!" - the fabrics were too vivid and fine, and they...they smelled of aromatic oils and powder.

"Not yours, true, but we'll be here for some time, and until your clothes arrive from the villa, you need something to wear, don't you?" her husband murmured, looking at her like a piece of art. "You can't just walk around naked, can you?"

She would have preferred to parade through the palace entirely naked rather than willingly wear the clothes and jewels Caracalla had sent her, fully aware of how pleased he would be. Yet, the problem was, her nude debut would have left him equally pleased.

The stands were louder than ever, and only when they entered the imperial box did she understand why. The Colosseum was flooded!

They were late due to her distraction and sluggishness; if she had her way, they wouldn't have come at all, but there she was, seated behind Lucilla once again.

Despite the excitement of the ship battles, the clanging of metal, her eyes kept falling on the red-haired head before her.

Neither emperor acknowledged their arrival, too absorbed in the spectacle, and while Geta later gave her husband a nod of recognition, Caracalla didn't even turn around. Anger simmered in her chest. For him, last night was nothing, but for her...For her, it had haunted her all night and morning. All her thoughts were trapped in those wretched, humiliating moments.

Why did he seem to have forgotten while she, cursedly, remembered every touch? Remembered his hands were soft and hot, his scent sweet, almost intoxicating... And, of course, she remembered the bitter humiliation from his words, from how he touched her, and that Emperor Geta had watched it all.

Cassandra pressed hard on her palm where the wound was healing, trying to push away the memories. She wouldn't let him occupy her mind as well.

Yet, she couldn't relax, pandemonium broke out in the box when the ships came too close and an arrow hit the column between the emperors' chairs. The last thing she heard before Tiberius pulled her out was Emperor Geta's piercing scream.

The palace was buzzing with unbearable noise, the feast meant for evening had transitioned into the day, though the servants were not fully prepared.

Cassandra stood by a column, wine cup in hand. Her husband had left her again, off with General Acacius. The emperors were nowhere to be seen, nor were most of the Senate.

"How many do you think will be executed today?" she heard a quiet female whisper.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the emperor ordered all the gladiators on the field to be gutted," another voice answered, "you know how he is, insatiable!" A burst of giggling followed, and Cassandra stopped listening, embarrassed by the direction of their conversation.

She understood that for many, winning the emperors’ favor was a dream. But for her? She was a married woman who had spent her youth cultivating a sense of duty, loyalty, and responsibility. Why, then, had the gods abandoned her? Faithful and devoted as she was, they had thrown her to their earthly incarnations to be torn apart.

"More wine, domina?" a slave girl dutifully refilled her goblet.

The girl was young, dark-skinned, and beautiful, with large, intelligent eyes. Cassandra noticed the gilded collar around her slender neck and suddenly felt an invisible, soft, and hot hand squeezing her own throat. In a rush, she took a large gulp, wincing at the bitter taste, then handed the cup back.

"No more, thank you," she said, licking her lips nervously, knowing she wouldn't find peace in this cacophony.

"Are you not well, domina?" the girl asked, worry in her voice.

"I just...I need some time alone," she muttered quickly, stepping away from the column, only to stagger and clutch her head. What was happening to her?

"Do you want me to take you somewhere quiet, domina? You can rest and come back later," the girl didn't wait for an answer, guiding her by the elbow out of the room. Such audacity from a slave was unheard of, but Cassandra was too rattled and her head was spinning.

"Where are we going?"

They navigated past the throne room into a small, almost secretive chamber. The ceiling wasn't as high, the columns much less grand, the lighting dim and gloomy, and in the center stood a white altar, adorned with gold. In her parents' home, next to her room, there was a similar one, much more modest, of course, but dear to her heart, where she had prayed to her late mother.

"Wait outside," the words were both a sentence for her and an order for the slave.

She wanted to scream. Of course, he was here. No one was to be trusted, even the slave's kindness was a trap—cruel and painful. Was she truly nothing more than a prisoner here, a powerless plaything to entertain the young emperor?

Every time she saw him, he seemed like a different person. He was dressed in black and gold, with a golden laurel crown and an earring. Gold, gold, gold! She despised its gleam, for in it, she saw him.

Huddled against the wall, she stood frozen, afraid to move. The emperor did seem different this time—melancholic and contemplative. His pale eyes were unusually clear and sober as they met hers.

"What did you tell your husband?" His voice was different too: calm, measured. That made it all the more terrifying. Cassandra couldn’t read his mood from his face.

"Nothing, Caesar," she whispered, afraid to speak louder, as if his calm depended on it.

Caracalla turned to the altar, studying it as if seeing it for the first time. She held her breath, watching the golden laurel shimmer in the torchlight.

"Come closer."

His tone was pensive, his light brows furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The moment she stepped closer, the emperor’s gaze shifted to her. It slid from her neck, lower, along the colorful tunic she wore.

"My mother used to wear this," he said. To her surprise, his right hand was bare of rings as he brushed the fabric over her chest lightly, almost tenderly. His eyes stayed locked on hers.

Though still afraid, it felt different from yesterday. Worse.

Why had he forced her to come here? Why had he dressed her in the clothes of his dead mother? Cassandra cast a desperate glance at the door, but he noticed immediately. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"She often came here," he continued, "prayed to the gods," his words were vague, her thoughts growing heavier, "do you pray often?"

"Yes, Emperor," she replied, though her mind was growing heavier, duller, as though lulled into a haze that numbed her fear.

"When was the last time?"

The conversation was bizarre, so unlike what had happened the night before. Feeling almost drunk, she answered without thinking, and that's when everything started to spiral.

"Today, when that arrow almost hit you," she said, breathing heavily, it was hot, like under the midday sun, "I prayed for the next one to hit."

Her tormented mind knew he would kill her now. That Caracalla would carry out his threats, destroy her and her family. But instead, he laughed.

Grinning, he patted her shoulder as if she’d told an excellent joke. Then the sharp pain of his hand striking her cheek brought her back to reality. He had slapped her! Tears welled in her eyes, her lips trembling, but she didn’t have time to cry. The emperor grabbed her face, squeezing her jaw painfully.

"You did drink it, didn't you? That wine they brought you?" Caracalla whispered, his voice low as he leaned closer, still holding her face. "Oh, you did! I can see it. Your dilated pupils, that empty stare, struggling to think straight, hard to control your tongue? I get it," in a mock tender gesture, he caressed the cheek he'd just slapped, "for those words, your pretty head should be on a spike outside the palace, shouldn't it? But you know the rules, if you apologize properly, I forgive."

With his thumb, he drew circles on her reddened cheek, moved to her lips, tracing their outline, forcing her to open her mouth by pressing down.

"You understand now, don’t you? The aphrodisiac in the wine you drank," he pushed his finger inside, making her lips encircle it, "I wanted to play differently, but..." his face twisted with anger, "everything went terribly wrong."

Her already rapid heartbeat quickened further, she whimpered helplessly, wanting to cry. He had made her take the drug and was now exploiting her helplessness, shamelessly tormenting her mouth.

"You should say thank you, shouldn’t you? Or did you enjoy last night more? Shall I call my brother?" he chuckled, once again reverting to his usual self.

Caracalla released her face but immediately pinned her against the altar, tilting his head up and gazing at her from beneath his lowered lashes, as if admiring her, smiling.

The torchlight reflected in his eyes, his tongue flicked between his red lips in anticipation. His hand caressed her shoulder, then he removed the pin holding the fabric.

"Did the old senator fail to notice that his dear little wife isn't really his anymore?" he sneered, his fingers trailing down to the mark he'd bitten into her skin the night before, pressing down, aiming to cause as much discomfort as possible. Caracalla's breath grew heavier, his eyes followed every flicker of emotion on her face, every slight movement she made.

"I told him it was his fault... that he drank too much..." The confession fell from her lips without thought, her mind too clouded to hold it back.

"Ah! How unfortunate, and once again, the Senate takes credit for the emperor's work! But you'll comfort me, won't you?" His lips were so close, she felt his hot, uneven breath, saw his pupils, as black as hers, the smeared shadows making his eyes feverishly gleam with madness. Her gaze only darted down to his lips for a moment... and he pressed against her, pulling her into a kiss.

His hands seize her waist, gripping and tormenting, not just her body but her very soul. If she could cry, she would, but there's no energy left, only his greedy, hot mouth. To her, a kiss was something far more intimate, far more sacred than carnal union, promising tenderness and love...And even that he steals from her, kissing her shamelessly, wetly, pressing so hard she feels his hardness against her thigh.

"Let's continue our lovely conversation," he pulls back, his mouth trailing down to her neck, kissing and biting, "tell me, did Tiberius ever get you this wet?" His hand slides between her legs, rubbing through the fabric. "Even once?"

"No," she whimpers, trying to close her legs.

"Keep acting innocent, and I'll call the Praetorians to keep your legs spread wide, is that what you want?" his rough whisper burns her ear, his earring brushing her lips.

Cassandra shook her head, public humiliation was something she couldn't handle.

"Good. Obedient and well-behaved, just as a respectable matron should be," he purrs, his hand lazily caressing, more relishing her embarrassment than her body, "if you want, you can call me your husband!"

His sharp laugh slices through the narrow room.

"Undress," he commanded, his laughter gone, "I'm not going to fuck you in my mother's clothes, am I?"

She thought after all the pain, the threats, the violence, he couldn't hurt her more, but each time, it still cuts deep. With trembling hands, she hurriedly sheds her tunic, then her undergarments, laying them out as treasures, while he watches. His gaze is fixed, nostrils flaring, Cassandra sees him stroking himself under his tunic. Her cheeks burn, her clouded mind finally grasps it - he's going to take her right here, in this holy place, before ancestors and gods. Her soul will be damned, even in death!

"Touch yourself, feel how wet you are," his voice is husky, breathless, "you should be grateful to me for that, shouldn't you? That's what I've been talking about."

Head bowed, she slides her fingers between her legs, horror dawning as she realizes he's right. But why? The drug? The notion that he aroused her with his aggressive kisses, his sharp bites, his lewd whispers, she dismisses in disgust. She didn't want him, she hated him!

Seeing her shock, Caracalla broke into a smile, fully aware of her thoughts. Abandoning his arousal, the emperor circled her nipple with his thumb, watching it harden under his touch.

"It's not surprising your husband doesn't stir your passions, look at yourself," his hand traces down her body, over her breasts, stomach, to her mound, pausing again between her legs, "you're more his daughter than his wife!"

His fingers gather her moisture, rubbing, making her despise her body's response.

"So, will you take your emperor?" he asks, not for permission but to keep the game going.

She can only nod, there's no other choice.

"Say it out loud," Caracalla whispers raggedly, pushing his fingers deep inside her. Now she understands why he took off his rings.

"Yes, Caesar, I'll take whatever you give me," with those words, the last vestiges of her pride are smashed, her genuine compassion and naivety destroyed.

He takes her with a sudden, harsh thrust, only to slow down to a lazy, almost indulgent rhythm. The air is stifling, hot; sweat drips down her thighs. The only sounds are the crackle of the torch, his ragged breathing, and the vulgar, wet slaps of skin meeting skin.

As if to disgrace her further, he grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look into his eyes as he picks up the pace again. Here he is—the protector and father of his people—bestowing his gifts. He's still clothed, no need to undress; the chain around his neck jingles with each movement, his crown slipping forward.

"Doesn’t this feel good, sweetling? Don’t you feel good?"

"Cassandra," she whispers, "my name is Cassandra."

He stops, looking at her with surprise, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Is it really that important for me to know your name, Cassandra?" he teases, playfully biting her earlobe. "Has the little wife fallen in love?"

How could he think that? Anger surges within her. Her attempt to claim some dignity crumbles! But her thoughts vanish as he thrusts into her sharply, fully, making her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders. It’s the first time she’s touched him willingly. Her simple gesture spurred him on even more, forcing a quiet whimper from her as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Next time your senator fucks you, think of me, little bird, understand?" his whisper turns into a moan. She's mesmerized by his parted red lips, his light lashes fluttering, his chest heaving. A few rough thrusts later, his grip on her waist loosens, and his seed floods within her.

He lets her go, adjusting his clothes, his breathing still heavy, but his gaze has changed. Having gotten what he wanted, Caracalla loses interest.

"If you're lucky, my seed will take root, and you'll give your husband an heir!" he chuckles, playfully flicking her nose as if she were a pet. "The wench will help you dress, don't forget, there’s a feast to attend!"

Caracalla leaves her, trembling, bare, and shattered. Tears finally come, and without strength, she slides down the wall, hugging herself. The worst is the sticky feeling between her thighs he left behind. If she were to conceive...

"Domina, you shouldn't sit like this, please stand, I'll help you," the slave girl who brought her here shows no emotion, no trace of sympathy in her eyes.

"Leave me!"

"Staying here is not an option, one must respect the dead," the girl nods at the inscription on the altar.

"Lucius Septimius Severus"

He had defiled her beside his father's ashes! Now, she lets her sobs escape freely.

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Hey! Thank you so much for the sweet feedback on the last chapter, I didn’t expect so many people to like my work, I’m really grateful! 💋 I promise the next chapter will be up faster (but it also depends on how this one does, your feedback means a lot to me and really inspires me).

[peoniesandflowers]

Commodus' ABC headcanons

Me loves an evil man, but dammit it if it has been difficult to decide how he would act in a relationship. I just feel like everything felt possible. Here's my try tho, hope y'all like it.

NSFW under the cut!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex).

This is the time where you see his most gentle side. He softly caresses your cheeks with his index, kissing your forehead as he admires you, unable to do anythibg else but look at you with that little shine in his eyes that you never really know if it comes from desire, possessiveness or joy to be on your side.

He might just stay in silence and wait for any of you two to fall sleep or maybe make some chit chat about the day, just wanting to hear you talk.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his eyes a lot. He is pretty aware of the effect that they can cause on other people, from frightening them to seducing.

When it comes to his partners, he can't help but being a boobs guy. Doesn't matter if they are big or small, he loves to touch them, seeing them, kissing them...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Anywhere you let him (or wherever is more convenient for him). Your chest, your abdomen, inside you, your ass cheeks, your mouth. He won't wipe it right away, taking a good look at it proud about it, asking you gently if you liked it, needing to hear that you like it. But why wouldn't you?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to get his fingers suck, and sometimes he doesn't even ask you to do it, he just puts his thumb gently on your lips and waits for you to lick it. At the same time, he loves to taste you, so if he fingers you he will lick himself clean, tasting you there. He also will get deep with his tongue kisses and, of course, spend as much time as he feels like between your legs.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Doesn't seem like that he might have any lovers. Maybe he has tried a few things with concubines, but it didn't satisfy him. Once he gets your hands on you tho, he finally understands so much better why sex is such a big deal for some people.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

My man is a romantic, missionary does not get old for him. He likes to put your heels on his shoulders and see your reactions to his thrusts. He will only suggest to do doggy style or any other position where he can only see your back unless there's a mirror.

If you get on top of him and ride him, he won't be able to stop pampering with compliments of how pretty you are.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's too passionate to do anything else than enjoy you and adore you once it gets heated.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Clean and shaved everywhere, like the good Cesar's son he is.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He may start flirtatious and even tease you but he quickly gets passionate, going from a slow and sensual pace to however both of you need that day.

He holds you tight with his grip, so much that you'll find bruises from his fingers on your inner thighs or forearms. He does not always mean to do it, but he can't help to love seeing the marks show up after a steamy night.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you two finally were a thing, he started masturbating more frequently since he couldn't stop thinking about you, whispering your name over and over as he pleasured himself. He would even edge himself a little, wondering if you would do it to, his thumb caressing the slit of his head, teasing himself until he couldn't keep it up.

Once you are together, he may do it if he is far away from you for a long time, but that does not usually happens since he will make you travel with him if it's safe to do so.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

If you are not careful, he will slowly introduce an obvious power play dynamic that will go both ways. He will start asking you to wear something that day, styling your hair in different way just because he wants to see you like that, gifting you jewelry that he wants you to put on...

He will enjoy it of you take a submissive role, but if show him that you can also toy with him a little, he will oblige as much as his responsibility allow him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bed is his favorite place in the world. It's big enough for both of you and he knows that no one will interrumpt.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Knowing that you want him as much as he wants you is one of the best feelings for him. It can be in a romantic, friendly or intimate way, but just be clear and vocal that you want him and he will only be able to satisfy your wishes.

He gets extremely needy if you just sit on his lap anywhere, specially if you do so as he is seated on his throne.

But if you want to make him drool, wait for him on your shared bed wearing only the jewels that he has gifted you. He will love the sight so much he might fear he is having visions.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won't even think about the idea of threesomes or anything that means sharing you. He might put you in a situation where people can obviously see how you are only his, like making you sit on his lap in public (like a small party at the palace) and massage your thighs with his hand under your dress, looking at you satisfied to show you off, but never as an invitation so someone else could get into bed with you two.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes giving, specially when it takes you to the point of you pleading for more, or even for you to ask him to stop because of how overstimulated you are. Then, it's about how merciful he is feeling that day, making you repeat yourself over and over until he feels you did well enough.

When he is the one receiving he gets so flustered and exited that if you gag a little on him he will moan, bucking his hips into your mouth so you do it again. He will hold your hair with his hand and look at you eager.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He starts slow and sensual, focusing on how everything feels and once he finds the perfect angle he starts hammering you down into the mattress.

When he comes he likes to muffle his moan in your skin, maybe kissing your neck or hiding his face between your breasts.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a big fan. He wants to feel you and take his sweet time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is the one that usually introduces stuff: tying your hands, blindfolds...

And even though he usually takes the lead, he will gladly let you be the one in charge if you show interest into do so. That's how you find out how much of a pleaser he actually is, showing you how good he can be at everything you demand.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last for a good two long rounds. After that he needs some time if you still want to keep going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Commodus, you would have loved long distance vibrators. He would make you put one and tease you all day long, sometimes making it clear if he didn't want you to come or encouraging to come as many times as you needed thought the day.

And about toys that there could have been at that time, he also would enjoy using them on you, but I don't think he would let you use some stuff on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I feel like he changes drastically depending on the role he positions himself.

If his feeling dominant he may tease you a little, draging his fingers over your skin, letting you know, without a word, that he can just do that and more if he feel like it.

But if he comes to you submissive, he will get so needy and straight to the point, pleading to know what you want, and almost whimpering when you flatter him with compliments.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man is loud. He groans and pants and comes either repeating your name over and over or with a loud moan that sometimes he muffles as he kisses your neck.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Praise kink. 100% it's just so obvious.

Caress his hair as you make him lay his head on your lap, call him 'pretty boy', 'my sweetest' or something like that, and he will plea to let him suck on your nipples or eat you out fast and eager, to the point that it's animalistic. He will ask you over and over if its good, if he is doing good, if he is a good boy.

Once you come from his tongue, he will look up at you, his mouth covered in your pleasure, kissing your thighs as he whispers over and over how much he loves you and needs you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big but proportionated, neither think or slim. 9'5 cm.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He yearns for you continuously. Not necessarily for sex only, but just to be with you. He just gets a little to obsessed.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to pamper you with kisses first and watch how you fall asleep, but if he is tired he will let you know and hug you as he drifts into his dreams.

~~~~~~

Again, thank you so much for the love in the other hc. If you have any suggestion or want me to write anything, please!! do so!! i have my ask box open!!

More stuff!

Caracalla's ABC (NSFW)

Geta's ABC (NSFW)

Maximus' ABC (NSFW)

[hornedstorys]

Gladiator - Commodus x Reader - "Kiss me"

Warnings: Fear, self doubt, Friends to lovers, Oc mention (not reader), violence (Not between reader and Commodus), a little bit of... SPYCE hehe (making out, nsfw), probably Commodus is pretty Ooc

Content: The ways of Caesar are inscrutable

Oooh he looks so handsome, iam crying😩

You strolled through the corridors of the palace with your basket full of herbs. It was a beautiful day and you used the time to get some medicinal plants. You were not only a servant of Caesar, but also a healer. At least you had some knowledge to take care of the emperor's injuries or when he was ill, which was rare.

You were given a small room of your own. Something that was a luxury for your status. While the other servants and slaves had to share their rooms, you were allowed to have your own little kingdom. Enough time and peace and quiet to make remedies.

The others clearly sensed that you were the emperor's favorite. You yourself didn't worry about it, you just went about your duties, nothing more. Ever since the emperor and you were little, you and your father have been looking after the boy. Over time, a kind of tender friendship developed between you, even though he was a few years older than you. You were present at every one of his treatments and he got used to your appearance. You burned yourself into his mind.

Today was one of your days off, your duties as a servant were done and Commodus let you go about your healing duties. Which didn't exactly please your overseer Titus. Titus was responsible for the servants and therefore a kind of master for you. Also because the emperor didn't have time to look after the little people himself, like the slaves and servants. But he was not a good person. He wasn't fair and punished every little mistake. The female servants in particular were afraid of him, as he even raised his hand to the women.

One of the reasons why you tried to do your tasks as thoroughly as possible. You were also afraid of him and his acts of violence. He was a monster. You hummed as your steps took you across the fine marble floor. Suddenly one of the guards appeared and you were almost startled as she came straight towards you.

"The Caesar wishes to see you," the guard said and you furrowed your brows.

"Is he not feeling well? Is he ill?" you asked, worry building up inside you. In between, Commodus trained often. It was also one of your suggestions for him to let out his frustration and relieve stress. Only with dolls, of course. You didn't know whether he really stuck to it. When Commodus was in a rage, even a hyper bull was more pleasant.

"He said he was hurt," the guard confessed and you immediately ran after him as fast as you could. The basket, still in your arms. Then you stood in front of his door. The guard knocked and all you could hear was an annoyed "What?".

The armored man nodded at you, almost encouragingly, before quickly disappearing. You sighed and slowly opened the door to his chambers."You summoned me, sire," you say, trying to keep your voice level. Your heart was still pounding hard against your chest. At your voice, Commodus' head shot up and his intense green eyes caught yours. You gulped. Quickly, you lowered your head and your eye contact was broken

The slaves and servants were not allowed to look at the emperor. You didn't want to be punished, but you didn't see the disappointed look on his face when you averted your gaze. Commodus gritted his teeth and scrutinized you. It almost felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.

"Come here, healer. I have a wound I want you to tend to," he said in a gravelly voice. You put down your basket and walked towards him, your eyes still lowered. At some point, dark leather boots appeared in your field of vision.

"Look at me," his dark voice came through to you and almost hesitantly you lifted your head to look at him shyly. That green of his eyes stared at you so intensely that it made you feel queasy. The light from the flakes made his skin glow warmly and you had to admit to yourself that this dangerous man was beautiful. A dangerous mixture.

Suddenly he held out his arm to you and you could see the bloody trail running across his skin. Hesitantly, you took his arm with your hands and took a closer look at the wound. Fortunately, it wasn't too deep.

"You've been training?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked at him. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at your question.

"You were the one who suggested it to me," his voice sounded amused, making you shiver in return. A soft smile came to your lips.

"But I also told you to practise on a doll. Not on humans, my emperor." A short giggle escaped your mouth and Commodus looked at you for a long time.

You picked up your bandages and started to carefully clean the wound. His eyes never left your form. His gaze literally devoured you and there was something unreadable in his eyes. It made you nervous. The fact that you were touching his skin didn't make it any better. You felt the muscles under your fingertips and you tried to concentrate as you wrapped the bandage around his arm.

It reminded you of how often you had felt his skin under your fingers. Even when she was younger, you were one of the few who were allowed to be so close to Commodus. You still remember the day, when he was about seventeen years old, when he had inflicted a wound on himself during the fight.

He was so angry about being hit that you had to calm him down somehow. And indeed, he calmed down when you gently placed a hand on his cheek and looked at him with a warm gaze.

"You will become a great emperor, Commodus," you told him then, and that sentence has remained in his mind to this day. You were so gentle with him and gave him the attention he had always needed. He felt something inside him heal.

"If I may make a suggestion to you, my lord, I would suggest you be more careful." Carefully, you let go of his arm. His silence made you uneasy. It was as if you were sitting in a cage with a ravenous tiger and he was simply staring at you. Suddenly Commodus lifted his hand and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. You sucked in your breath and froze. You weren't expecting a gesture like that.

"I am a ruthless man, (Y/n). Anyone who gives me orders will be executed by me-" You swallowed at his words and the next moment his hand was around your neck, but he didn't squeeze. Commodus simply tilted his head and looked at you, you licked your lips and looked at him in awe.

"But I would let you tell me anything, my little (y/n)." His voice became a whisper and he stroked your slightly parted lips with his thumb.

You could see him getting closer and closer to your face. You could smell his scent. He smelled of myrrh and leather. A mixture you'd never smelled before and you could feel it fogging your mind. His lips were so close to yours. Your heart raced in your chest and suddenly you pulled back slightly, just as his lips almost touched yours.

"I can't... not, my emperor." You tilted your head so that you thought your neck would break. You pressed your lips together. Tears gathered in your eyes and you were afraid of the word he would speak. Would he kill you? Punish you?

He clenched his fists and his jaw tightened, his eyes darted to the side in disappointment and you could hear him exhale heavily.

"Then go!" His voice grew louder and he turned away, you fled the room as quickly as you could. Your heart was still restless.

The next day you went about your servant duties. You filled a jug with wine and Titus instructed you to take it to the room where Commodus and some senators were having a meeting. You have a bad feeling about going into this room and meeting the piercing green eyes. But you had to or Titus would punish you.

You walk uncertainly through the hall. The table where the men were sitting was generously laid and you could hear them chatting, except for Commodus, who was sitting quietly and seemed to be thinking. You carefully began to limit the wine, starting with Commodus, but it seemed as if he didn't realize who was standing next to him and pouring him wine. As you poured the liquid into the goblet for Graccius, one of the senators, Commodus' eyes lifted.

His green irises stared at you for a long time and you felt it clearly. You felt your lips go dry and nervousness grow inside you

As you poured everyone a drink, you wanted to make your way quickly to the kitchen, but you tripped just before the door. The jug fell to the floor and broke. It happened almost as if in slow motion and your eyes widened as you heard Titus approaching.

You hadn't even got up when you were roughly grabbed by the arm. A cry of pain escaped your mouth and you screwed up your face.

"You stupid thing!" he shouted, exposing you to everything.

"You'll pay for this, look at this mess!" He continued to beat you down as you tore yourself away from him to pick up the pieces. Your eyes were burning from the tears that were slowly blurring your vision.

Commodus watched the action, his fists clenched as he saw Titus touch you. Before he could say anything, Titus grabbed your arm again and pulled you out of the hall. What remained was the red puddle on the floor.Quick footsteps paced the palace as Titus pulled you into a larger chamber. Your eyes widened. You knew exactly what was coming and panic spread through you.

The door slammed shut and the next moment you felt a sharp pain in your cheek. He had slapped you in the face. Your heart was pounding against your chest and your cheeks were burning with shame. You didn't hear the quick footsteps outside. What you also didn't realise was that it was Commodus who was looking for you.

By the time Titus had finished with you, it had gone quiet outside. You sat dully in Commodus' chamber. Your whole body shook and tears ran down your cheek. It was the only place where you felt safe right now.

You had already treated your bruises and wounds. They would soon heal. Your lip hurt as you licked over the sore spot. The violet around your eye was clearly visible. You leaned against the bed where you were hiding and tried to calm down.Suddenly the door was pulled open and you automatically cringed as if Titus had just come through the door. But it was Commodus.

He didn't look amused, but suddenly he noticed your huddled figure. His gaze immediately softened.When you noticed him, you jumped up, but he was quicker. With long strides, he was on you in a flash and grabbed you by the shoulders before you could escape. You averted your eyes and hoped he wouldn't see your marks. He frowned when he saw how distraught you were.

"It's me, (Y/n), calm down!" It had been a long time since he said your name out loud. Almost instinctively, you lifted your head and stared at him. When he saw your condition, his gaze suddenly turned cold.

"Did he do this to you?" he growled, running his thumb over your open lip almost too tenderly. You could feel them start to quiver and your eyes became wet.

"It's all right..., I was just presumptuously punished for my mistakes, Caesar." Your voice was so weak and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Commodus' brows furrowed and he looked at you, stunned. His hands brushed the sides of your arms and you hissed as you felt a pang of pain.

The next moment, Commodus yanked your tunic down until it hung just above your chest. His gaze travelled over your trembling form. Your whole body was covered in dark purple spots.

"Punished presumptuously? You call that a presumptuous punishment? The only thing you did was drop a stupid jug of wine and he punishes you like that?" His voice got louder and louder and his eyes got darker and darker.

You were so exhausted that you leaned your face against his palm and closed your eyes. Commodus saw a tear slowly make its way through your eyelashes and down your cheek. You clung to him with one hand as if he was the only support you had.

Then a sob escaped your mouth and you threw yourself into Commodus' arms, burying your face deep in the crook of his neck. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and pressed you tightly against him.He could feel your tears running down his skin and it only made him more frantic. He was seething with rage inside.

"I'm going to punish him. Presumptuous, like he did to you!"You shuddered and wondered what Commodus had in mind. You knew one thing for sure, Titus would not return to the palace alive. He would never return. It would be as if he had never existed.

"You stay here and wait for me." Gently, he pushed you away from him and looked you in the eye. You looked at him almost desperately. But you stayed put and watched him as he walked out of the door with firm steps.It had been a few hours now and Commodus was still not there. You were about to tend to your bruises and your still slightly swollen lip. But somehow your strength failed you and you lay down on the silken bed and closed your eyes briefly.

You were almost asleep when the door suddenly opened and a tall silhouette came towards you. An almost gentle voice called your name and you opened your eyelids. Commodus' face appeared and he bent over you. His eyes scrutinised you.

"Don't worry, he won't hurt you anymore." You heard his voice trembling, his heart beating wildly as if he had just been through a fight and his hair was dishevelled. You didn't know what had happened and maybe you didn't even want to know. But suddenly you were overcome with a sense of longing and your mind and body cried out to be protected.

"Commodus..." you breathed and the Casesar's lips parted slightly, as if the sound of his name coming over your lips would throw him completely off balance.In fact, it did. It had been far too long since you called him by his name. He had to admit to himself that he liked the way it sounded when you whispered his name. You straightened up slightly.

"Commodus?" This time it sounded more like a question and his gaze looked at you openly, questioningly.

"Kiss me," you murmured and in a few seconds his gaze changed. But the uncertainty was still deep in his eyes. You didn't give him time to react as you leant forward to press your lips against his.The emperor finally woke up from his stupor and came greedily towards you. He looked like a ravenous animal as he pressed his lips harder against yours and you moaned.

Your hand grabbed the back of his neck and you pulled him towards you on the bed. As good as a dog, he let you pull him along until he was lying between your legs.

You lay there entwined and caressed each other. Desire overcame you both and you clung to his hair and neck, panting as he gently kissed your neck.

"Commodus," you moaned and it made his chest quiver as your name passed your lips so sinfully.

"I love the way you moan my name, my little light," he growled, making you whimper. A few minutes later, your clothes lay strewn across the bed as Commodus' lips greedily sought yours again. His tongue penetrated deep into your mouth, exploring every inch. His taste drove you crazy and you could feel how wet you were by now, just from his kisses.His body felt hot against yours and you thought you were going to burn inside.

You could feel his hardness grazing your thigh. Automatically, you pushed your pelvis towards him, hoping his cock would slide into you. Commodus gasped in amusement when he realised your impatience. But when you suddenly took his hard member in your hand, he groaned and bucked his hips against your hand.

You directed him trembling towards your entrance and Commodus barely gave you time to breathe as he thrust deep inside you. You bit your lips and threw your head back as he stretched you so well. He had to pause for a moment, the feeling of your body was too intoxicating.

He felt himself twitch and his chest rose and fell sharply. Then he started to move. But it was slower than you thought. Almost sensual. As if he simply wanted to savour every second of it.

The pure feeling of bliss overcame you as your bodies became one. Your breaths mingled in a steady beat as his hips pounded against you, and when he suddenly touched your sensitive bud with his fingers, you were over.

"Commodus..., my Caesar!" you moaned and as you prayed, he only penetrated you faster and harder. Your lips opened and suddenly you were overcome by a powerful wave of pleasure and emotion as your bud and pussy were caressed like this.

Your moans echoed through the emperor's room and probably the whole palace heard them.The next moment Commodus growled and thrust his hips hard into you with one last strong thrust to fill you with his hot seed.

Breathing heavily, he leaned his forehead against yours and stared intensely into your eyes. Your bodies were drenched in sweat and the pain of the bruises were as if forgotten.

He looked at you for a long time. There was so much emotion in his eyes and suddenly he leaned down to press his lips to yours. But it was a gentle kiss full of love.

[darknessisafriend]

Omg I loved it so much ! You are such a good writer for Commodus, his boyish spirit, full of love but with torment never far away. And I do love prompts of childhood friends/ knowing each other for while for Commodus, it really gives interesting dynamics !

The dance scene was particularly well written, I could imagine it all and fell myself swaying in his arms🥰 please keep tagging me in Commodus stories, you do great !

Home - Commodus x Reader

You had been best friends with Commodus for years, and were always by his side. One night, while dancing at a festival of Mars, you realize that you love him.

You and Commodus were best friends, and had grown up together. Your father worked in the senate, and was a close companion of Marcus Aurelius'. You and Commodus were side by side your whole lives, as he grew from a gangly child into a gorgeous young man, and you two had shared in many adventures. 

“Commodus!” You shouted, letting yourself into his room. He jumped, but smiled when his eyes landed on you. 

“As spontaneous as always,” He said, walking over to you. “Didn't your emperor ever teach you to knock?” 

“He was too busy teaching you to scrape manure,” You laughed, waving him away. Commodus rolled his eyes, recalling the hours of ‘character building’ his father put him through. 

“Did you come just to remind me of my tragic past?” He asked, crossing his arms. 

“Of course not,” you exclaimed, remembering why you had come. “There is a festival of Mars tonight, and I want you to accompany me.” 

“Don't remind me,” Commodus sighed. “You know I detest such…revelries.” 

“But there will be music!” You cried, grabbing him by the shoulders. “And dancing! Please, Commodus?” 

He sighed, but nodded. You let out a joyful laugh, and hugged him.

“We have a few hours before the festival,” Commodus noted. “I have an idea for what we could do in the meantime…” 

There was a mischievous glint in his eye, and you smiled. You two could be quite the hellraisers, between Commodus’ plotting and your fearlessness. The palace servants had grown accustomed to the sight of you two dashing through the hallways after your little pranks, hand in hand and giggling madly. 

You and Commodus slunk through the palace and to the great hall, where an esteemed guest from Ostia had come to discuss with the senate. The guest was boring everyone with demands for Ostia, despite being one of the richest of the outer provinces. He droned on and on about more cattle, more soldiers, more crops. Several of the senators let out bored yawns.

Commodus snuck behind the Ostian's chair, which he had abandoned during his lecture. From his pocket he produced a small leather sack, which seemed to be empty. He carefully placed the sack on the seat, and shot you a smile. You were confused, and wanted to ask what was happening. Commodus raised a finger to his lips, signaling to you to be quiet, and pointed to the hall where the man was finally finishing his speech. 

“...Ostia thanks you for permitting me to come and speak, and I hope our alliance never fizzles out!” 

He sat heavily on the sack, and a sound ripped from it like the farts of a great dragon. The sound echoed in the great hall, and everyone sat in stunned silence. Then, the people began to laugh in a cacophony of sound, you and Commodus included. Your shoulders shook with laughter, and you clutched at your stomach to hold yourself steady. 

The Ostian man whipped around, looking for the source of his embarrassment. Commodus grabbed your hand, pulling you out into the hallway before you could be seen. You two were laughing like crazed hyenas, and you had to stop to catch your breath. 

“Where…in the world,” you said in between gasps of breath, “did you learn that?” 

“Elagabalus, an emperor” Commodus giggled, and smiled at you knowingly. “Those history lessons paid off after all.”

You shook your head and laughed. Leave it to Commodus to forget everything about his history lessons except for the farts. 

"We should go back to your quarters before someone suspects us,” You said, taking his hand without a second thought. You had known one another for so long that your friendly affection to one another was second nature, and it was one of your favorite things about your friendship. 

In his room, you sat on his bed and talked about everything and nothing. Commodus confided in you about his anxieties as the heir to the throne, and his hopes for Rome. You told him your fears for the future, uncertain as to whether you would be able to find a career which interested you. Philosophy and bureaucracy seemed meaningless to you, as much as your father loved it. 

“Is there any future for the children of Rome?” you asked, sighing. Commodus laughed, and you shot him a glare. 

“You could be a poet,” he said, smiling. “If tragic phrases like that come so naturally to you.” You shoved him lightly, laughing. 

“What a life for us that would be,” you said. “The emperor and his poet.” 

“I would like nothing better,” Commodus said truthfully. Your laughter died as he leaned forward, the heat from his body radiating off him. You were close enough to smell the olive and rose oils on his skin, and to see the minute details in his stormy green eyes. His hair, curly and soft, was backlit by the sun. The orange hue of the sunset reminded you of the time. 

“The festival will be starting soon; we should get ready,” You said, standing up. You felt cold, missing your friend's warmth already. 

“I suppose,” Commodus whispered, and watched you go. Although the traditional color for mars was red, you chose to dress in orange. The color reminded you of the sun, and of the times you had watched it set over the ocean.

Commodus dressed in plain red, but you smiled when you saw him nonetheless. He still seemed a little disgruntled at having to attend, and you laughed at his grumpy expression. 

The festival was lively, and there were musicians playing fantastic tunes which you could dance along to. Red cloth hung from the ceiling, turning the sunlight from gold to bloodred. People laughed and ate and danced, and you could feel the vibrance of life all around you. 

You took Commodus’ hand in yours and dragged him to the dance floor, laughing as you went. Even with your fears for the future, it felt good to enjoy this snippet of happiness. 

Commodus, despite his reservations, was a fantastic dancer, and your bodies moved in a steady rhythm. Your arms rested on his shoulders, his hands gripping your waist. His eyes sparkled when he laughed, and your heart soared.

The music began to slow, and Commodus drew you into a hug as you two swayed on the floor. His head rested in the crook of your neck, and you felt his cheek press against yours. 

“I'm happy you invited me to come,” He whispered, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“I'm happy you came,” You whispered back, smiling. Your arms tightened around him, pulling his body against yours. You rested your head against his, his curls tickling your face. Your heart fluttered at the feeling of him melting against you, and he let out a contented sigh.  

Your heart melted at his soft trust, and you realized now that you loved him. Of course you did; you always had. 

It felt right to be in love with Commodus. He had been by your side longer than you could remember, and you hoped he would always be there. Every joy, every sorrow, every moment, you two had experienced it together. Your love for him was as natural as breathing, and you wanted to share this love with him forever.

“I love you,” you whispered against his cheek, your breath tickling his ear. He dislodged himself from your grasp to look at you, his eyes searching. Had he heard you correctly?

“What?” He asked, barely above a whisper. You began to panic, worried that you had said the wrong thing. 

“I love you,” you repeated. Commodus took a breath, his cheeks slightly flushed. 

“And I love you,” He murmured, his face mere inches from yours. You leaned forward, your nose brushing against his. You could see every detail of his face; his piercing eyes, the cleft on his lip, the tiny freckles scattered across his nose, his dark eyelashes which fluttered as he studied your face. 

His lips met yours, soft and careful. As you pressed closer together, you felt a deep sense of completion. As you held him in your arms, your lips pressed together in a tender kiss, every emotion on display, you felt like you were opening the door to a place you had always known was there, but never seen. 

Commodus pulled away from you, a smile touching his lips. He took your face in his hands and kissed you again, grinning like a schoolboy. He pressed his forehead against yours, the two of you smiling and giggling softly. 

“I love you,” he whispered. His face was lit up by his giddy smile, and you two couldn't stop laughing. Love bubbled out of you in joyful waves, and you saw your love and happiness reflected on Commodus' face. As you hugged him and traded happy kisses with him, you knew.You were home. 

an: if you like, please comment and reblog! If you wanna see more fics like this, I take requests!!

[profeyandere]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 ─── ☾ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴏᴀǫᴜɪɴ ᴘʜᴏᴇɴɪx ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.9ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏᴅᴜꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The soft and warm breeze coming from the deserted Roman streets caused you, as was usual in your slightly anxious and nervous person, a strange feeling of restlessness that many could assimilate due to the strange cool gusts that arose suddenly and chilled anyone who was surrounded by them, but all assumptions disappeared when you stressed to yourself that the reason for your anxiety had begun not long after the sudden death of the former emperor of Rome. Marcus Aurelius, known for being a man as strong as Hercules himself or as wise as the ancient ancestors, had been a second father to you, a man who with his extensive memory told you even the smallest details of each of his adventures in the foreigner and the various conquests that he had managed to make and be victorious around Rome to make his empire one that he had managed to take to Africa, being discovered as a technologically backward continent and very little known by those who were around his Roman kingdom, turning out to be one of the kindest men to those who really knew him, having helped the most impoverished population through various laws and in dire situations, including slaves, women, and children. That man had always taken care of you, he had made you feel protected under his attentive, loving, and proud gaze; He was the father you never had. Although you did not belong to one of the highest social classes, at least you did not belong to one of the lowest, and this, together with the fact that your mother took care of her children since the first of them was born, evidently your arrival into the world. It caused you to spend more time in the Roman palace where the emperor and his children were.

"As thoughtful as always," said a voice behind you that caught your attention, bringing you back to reality with a soft gust of fresh air that made you sigh. "Again, you find yourself thinking, even if you are in the safest place in the whole world, next to me."

That voice, which was usually distant from those who bothered him or showed irritability when directed towards less close people, was now soft and calmer than how you had heard it before. He had been angry before, your husband had been really angry, and now everything seemed more peaceful because he could see your wonderful ethereal figure next to the large balcony of your room.

“I find myself thinking about you, as usual,” you murmured, hoping to show him a little of the affection your heart held for him, slowly turning your body to turn your back to the beautiful view of the empire that loomed beneath your feet, facing the sharp and distant look of the man who had not moved from the main door of the room. "You know I always think about you. I worry about you, especially when you're awake when the moon is so high in the sky."

A soft growl, barely audible, came to you like the roar of a lion. You always liked to show your affection towards him, but you were also aware that he wasn't entirely used to receiving it from anyone other than his sister, even if he had shared his life with you since he was five years old.

Now everything was very different. Commodus was no longer the adorable boy who so often held your hand when he forced you to run with him through the palace corridors, trying to get you to keep up with him so that the guards wouldn't catch you in some absurd game that he thought that it had occurred to him and he would win for being the son of the emperor, even though that was only an excuse to be closer to you and explore that physical contact that he had heard so much about from the cooks; Commodus was no longer the charming boy who so many times tried to sweeten your ear so that you would ride a horse with him despite the various denials you gave him every time he proposed that activity that avoided being malicious, even if the only thing he wanted to feel was it was your arms around his waist. Although, despite all this, and even though Commodus had grown to become the man you know today, there was one thing that had never changed despite the years.

"I don't see the point in waiting up for me. Tomorrow you won't get out of bed until it's late and all I want is to share at least a little of my awakening with my wife's love," he scolded you, trying to be a little serious with you, even if the slight curvature of his lips denoted the opposite. "You do it every night. You wait until I come to the room, whether you long to rest in Morpheus's arms or not."

"You know that I don't like sleeping with light, and I'm aware of how much the darkness terrifies you," you told him, approaching one of the candelabras that rested peacefully on one of the pieces of furniture near your large double bed, ready to make the flames disappear that little by little were consumed. "I don't want you to feel afraid in a place where you should feel at home, much less after the great and important service you offer to Rome."

The emperor felt something strange inside him, he always did when it came to you. Your kindness and serenity, your understanding, and your sweet soul were the attributes that made you the perfect candidate to rule the great Roman empire with him, even if the latter was never to the liking of his late father; He had too many imperfections and had committed terrible acts that not even he would forgive himself if he had to judge himself, but you always seemed to see through it all to the person who was really hiding behind that same layer of grime and horror. You had met a Commodus that no one else was able to see, or perhaps no one wanted to accept that he was there. He had always been despised, you had seen that with the constant rejections of his father as he was always chosen as his last option; He had always been separated and humiliated, being the laughing stock of the guards who were supposed to protect him so much when he was pointed out as a weak man for not being able to withstand the constant beatings when he was trained to be noticed by his own father; He had always been the outcast of his own family, only knowing love through her older sister Lucila and seeing her as the mother he lacked so much during her youth. All of this meant that the only thing he knew, as far as feelings were concerned, was bitterness and loneliness, even if he had you to vent in his moments of greatest weakness.

"As my wife, you are supposed to listen to me," Commodus said in an attempt to appear authoritarian with you, even though he was aware of your stubbornness and how much you didn't like him speaking to you that way, trying to make himself look more strong and imposing in your presence. He was obviously looking for a reaction from you and got it when you raised one of your eyebrows in question. "I can be fine in the dark, I'm not a child anymore."

"Did you stop being a child three days ago? Because remember, my dear Commodus, that three nights ago you were in bed hugging me as if something bad was going to be done to you, begging me for there to be a tiny little flame in sight or a light to illuminate your part of the bed," you answered with a soft sly smile, keeping you close to the last lit lamp that provided light to the room, putting more emphasis on that fear that you had never managed to figure out how to remove; Sometimes it was exasperating not knowing how to help him at times like this. "Your well-being is one of my greatest concerns and, if you do not feel well in the only place where you should by obligation feel comfortable, then it is my duty to do everything possible to make you feel protected."

Moments like those, in which you showed your genuine concern for him, could be very common throughout the days, but he always appreciated them as if they were the first time you said those important and strong words for him.

An attempt at a smile appeared on his face. He gently lifted the cheeks of his lips, which made you feel a little more relieved to see that the tension he had carried with him all day seemed to have momentarily vanished with your short speech. You observed the way in which his tall body, muscled by the various exercises he performed throughout the week and which had apparently begun to deteriorate a little due to the obligation to continue doing other chores, let himself fall, exhausted and exhausted, to the edge of the large imperial bed that had belonged to you since he was crowned emperor, making it bounce softly at how soft it was, while the thin pillows full of feathers sank with their weight towards the defeated side, closing your eyes so that the Darkness slowly surrounded him, and it was only because his eyelids had lowered and not because the last light in his room had faded with the air coming from outside.

Small hands that he would recognize anywhere on Earth, as delicate as glass and as soft as silk, he felt as they were quickly placed on his sharp cheeks that, thinner than they had ever been, showed a slight deterioration in his physical appearance state due to stress. Your hands so loved and tender, gently cradled his face so that he would relax, causing his jaw to relax as he felt your thumbs tracing his bone and there were no longer any frown lines on his forehead frowning from him; Now everything was starting to be different at that late hour of the night.

"How do you do it?" He questioned himself, even though his words escaped from his lips and reached your ears. "How do you make him feel safe with your caresses, more than I could ever be in the company of the entire Roman troop?"

Your laughter flooded his ears in such a perfect way that he couldn't help but accompany your laughter with his own, as if it were an effect that you had on him, allowing you to attract his head towards your body, thus causing his face to be buried on your soft belly covered by a long white silk nightgown.

"I don't know, you answer that question for me."

His greenish eyes, always showing curiosity, slowly rose and drew your elegant dark and slightly moonlit figure to finally meet yours in that dark and dull room in which you were. And that's when he saw it, at that moment he was able to answer himself. Your eyes shone with love, with warmth, with a light so strong that it could guide him back to you if, at any point in his life, he felt lost wherever he went; because you were his light within his world of darkness.

[angelseraphines]

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ gladiator masterlist. ੈ♡˳

╰┈➤ marcus acacius, lucius, commodus, emperor geta, maximus

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ marcus acacius. ੈ♡˳

tba.

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ lucius. ੈ♡˳

tba.

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ commodus. ੈ♡˳

tba.

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ emperor geta. ੈ♡˳

tba.

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ maximus. ੈ♡˳

tba.

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part three (final) - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: 18+ descriptions of violence and smut (fingering, pinv, slight biting kink and nipple play, possessive behaviour) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

It had been a long, excruciating week. You had managed to avoid Commodus in that time. Attius was still insistent that you complete your duties despite the injuries, but you had managed to do them all in the lower levels of the palace. In the few instances where you needed to get work done in areas Commodus could be, you chose to do them very late into the night. 

There was not a word you could use to express the heartache you had felt at that time. It is funny that a person could be stamped so permanently onto your ribcage in such a short time of knowing them, but the emperor was a man you would never forget. 

In your dreams, you could still feel the touch of his calloused hands and the warmth that only he could provide – no other form of warmth like fire or the sun could compare or compete. 

The swelling in your face was gone, but you still sported a cut lip and the bruises were still prominent. Each night, you would go to Cassius to get a poultice to put on your wounds, which soothed the skin and removed some of the aching pain. 

While you had been smart in dodging Commodus and staying on the lower levels of the castle, you had to fetch rosemary from the gardens and it could not wait until night. So you found yourself, in the heat of midday, picking some rosemary in a secluded area of the palace gardens. 

It was calm, with a gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You held a woven basket with the handle tucked into your bent arm. With a small knife, you would cut off bundles of rosemary that looked ready to harvest and placed them in the basket. The motions were soft and serene and you found some peace with it. 

Footsteps alerted you to a presence behind you. You wanted to turn, but at the sound of their voice, you knew who it was and could not afford to face them. 

“You are not sick,” Commodus spoke from behind you, his tone full of contempt. 

You stopped your current task but still refused to turn around. Keeping your back to him was incredibly disrespectful, but you feared what he would do if he saw the markings on your face. How quickly would he cast you aside? 

“I have… recovered quickly.” You excused. Commodus scoffed from behind you and stepped closer. He was only a pace or two away from you and his close proximity had your knees weak and resolve crumbling. 

“You were never sick. I am not stupid…” His tone then switched to something that sounded almost insecure, “Have I done something to incur your indifference? Why do you avoid me? Whatever it was, name it and I shall work towards absolution. Shout it at me, insult me even, I give you permission for that. So long as you speak, so long as I can hear you talk because I have learnt that nothing… nothing hurts more than the absence of you.” 

His small speech could have knocked you off your feet. It sent your mind reeling. A strong urge to drop your basket and fling yourself into his arms washed over your body. How much you dearly missed the comfort of his embrace. He sounded vulnerable, not something you ever thought would come out of his mouth.

“It is not you, Caesar.” You hoped the honorific title would make him display more mercy toward you, but you failed to notice the depths of his devotion that had built up long before he invited you to his chamber so many nights ago. 

“Commodus.” He corrected what you addressed him as, “You of all people do not need to call me that. What is it that burdens you so?” He questioned. 

You knew there was no point in trying to keep it hidden. Your clothing thankfully covered most of the bruises, except for the one on your face. Slowly, while looking at the stone ground, you turned to face him. Your face raised and made eye contact with him, finding some solace in the green of his eyes. His look of desperation for your attention quickly morphed into simmering rage. You could see the bump in his throat move as he swallowed and his jaw set. 

He took the final step to get closer to you. Commodus raised his hand and hovered it right over your bruise, eyes scanning it over and over as if it was not real. 

“Who?” His voice was oddly calm. It was as if his mind had shut down, unable to fully process what he was seeing. 

“I am fine and–”

“Who did this?” Commodus interrupted. He gently traced over the bruise with the tip of his fingers, mapping the way it marred your face. 

“I have neglected my duties as of late. Master Attius did only what was necessary.” You tried to reason. His nostrils flared at your words. 

“It was him that did this to you?” You wanted to answer, but there was a sob that threatened to claw its way through your throat. You did not wish to cry in front of him, but the stress of everything had hit you. He saw the tears that welled in your eyes and pulled you in for a hug. However, his sudden touch on your arms caused you to flinch.

Commodus looked down immediately, grabbed your wrist, and pulled up the sleeve of your dress to see the bruises that littered your forearm and disappeared under the top of the fabric. His breath became laboured. 

“Nothing must go unpunished, he told me.” You bit your lip to hold the sobs back. Commodus let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, letting the warm breeze hit your bodies. 

He eventually moved, lifting his head and planting a kiss on your hairline. His hands reached up and rubbed your shoulders gently, trying to provide comfort while also not wanting to make your pain worse. 

“You are not to do any more work today. Go to my room and wait there.” He instructed you. 

“Wait for what?” You asked. He did not answer you, only giving your temple one last chaste kiss before he turned around and left the garden. You could hear his harsh footfalls as he got further away and you were scared at what he was capable of. 

Commodus was angry and that was dangerous. You worried about what his wrath meant for anyone in the palace. Yet, you could do nothing but stand there as he left, bracing for the coming aftermath of whatever he had planned.

You swore that you would wear down the marble flooring in Commodus’ room. For the last few hours, you had paced back and forth. Sometimes you would sit in a chair for a few moments before becoming restless again and resuming your short march. There had been no word from Commodus or anyone as to what was going on. 

You surmised that was the best outcome. He had not gone on a rampage and caused chaos, which was good. It had only struck you recently that perhaps you had been terribly stupid this whole time. The way he looked at you in the gardens and his vulnerability at thinking he had done something wrong to you. There you came to understand the depths of the situation and that the feelings you held are in some capacity reciprocated. 

That was why you paced so relentlessly. He harboured feelings for you, which in itself felt surreal. You were nothing and would remain nothing, but somehow that was enough to catch his attention. Had it been that festival you sang at so many years ago? Was it that moment when the fates decide to entwin both of your paths?

The door on the other side of the room opened and you stopped pacing. You stood still, hoping to see Commodus. It was hard to conceal your disappointment when another man walked through the doors. He was old and hunched over slightly, but his face appeared kind. He carried a bag with him and set it down on one of the tables. 

“Excuse my brash words, but where is the emperor?” You questioned. 

The old man smiled and began to take items out of his bag; vials and bandages, “The emperor has not been in the palace for hours, my lady.” 

“I am not a lady,” You spoke. 

“I have been instructed by the Caesar to look over his lady that awaits in this room. I am correct in assuming that is you?” He teased you slightly and you felt a little more relaxed around him. You approached the table and looked down at the healing supplies he had laid out. 

“Yes, uh, that would be me.” You shrugged. You did not want to question why Commodus had referred to you as his lady but knew it was not something to take lightly. Whatever he said goes and there was no reversing those words. The more you thought of it, the more it warmed your heart. 

“Well, I am Cosmo, fair lady. Might I check over your injuries?” He questioned. 

You nodded with permission and he moved towards you. While he tended to your wounds, all you could think about was Commodus; where he was and what he was doing. He was not in the palace and Rome was a large city. A sinking feeling of worry and dread washed over you.

After you had been tended to, more servants came in to bring you new attire. The dress you wore was nothing you had ever come close to having. The tunica, stolla, and palla all matched with the vibrancy of orange and black. Commodus had picked it out for you and you could not help but wonder if he chose it because it was similar in colour to your favourite animal, the tiger.  

When you had gotten ready, guards escorted you to a waiting carriage. Each time you tried to ask what was happening, you only got the same short response; Caesar awaits you. By now, slight fear had entered your heart. He had been gone that whole day and the last you saw of him was when he became consumed by rage. Had he hurt others? Had he hurt himself? 

The large imposing figure of the Colosseum entered your vision as the carriage approached. There were not many times in your life when you had time to visit, but each memory had been ingrained in your mind. The sun was setting and cast the stone in a delicate golden light. The heat of the day waned and you became grateful for the clothing wrapped around you to shield you from the occasional cool breeze. 

You do not remember there being a gladiatorial game scheduled for that day and your suspicions got worse as you were led out of the carriage and into the Colosseum. There was no shouting, no screaming, or bounds of cheer. Nothing but silence greeted you as you walked up some stairs and found yourself at the cloth-covered entrance to the emperor's viewing box. 

The guards escorting you grabbed the silk curtains and pulled them away, allowing you to enter alone. The viewing box was grand, filled with seats for the senators. A large stone chair, like a throne, was placed up front in the centre. There, leaning against the stone railing, was Commodus. He had his back to you, but you could see he wore a regal outfit of black armour with silver and gold accents. A gold laurel crown rested over his touseled dark locks. 

Your heartbeat picked up at the sight. 

“Commodus?” You questioned. At the sound of your voice, he turned around and smiled. He raised both of his arms like one would do to welcome someone with a hug. 

“Ah, you’re finally here,” He approached you and placed one hand gently over the healing bruise on your face, “How are you?” His other hand rested on your waist to pull you closer. A flush fell over your body. 

“The healer says I am doing well. There are no complications.” You answered. You had no idea what to do with your arms, so you pressed the palms of your hands against the chestpiece he wore, feeling the bends and grooves of the detailed pattern and the coolness of the metal. 

“And how is your mind?” His thumb swiped back and forth across your cheek. 

“I am alright. It hurt for a while… everything is fine now.” You reassured him. During your week of avoiding him, you had missed his comfort dearly. While he had originally gone to you for solace, you became attached to him and learned that you wished to lean on him as well.

“Not quite, darling.” Commodus took your arm and guided you to the big throne. He sat down comfortably. While you looked around for a chair next to him, he pulled you down so you sat on his lap. The movement was abrupt but sent heat through your body. 

“Nothing can go back to normal until you see justice for the crimes you have suffered,” Commodus wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you securely in his lap. The armour he wore was almost cold, but his presence provided a warmth that erased that feeling.  

“Attius was well within his rights to punish me and–” 

Commodus grabbed your chin and turned your head to look at him. There was a quiet rage within his eyes, though not directed at you. 

“I’ll not have you speak like that, do you hear me?” He told you. You nodded which made him smile and leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good. Now, I have prepared a show for you.” 

“A show?” You questioned. 

“More like a trial,” He motioned with his hands to a set of guards standing within the arena. They began to march towards one of the entrances and he continued to speak, “I will not have my lady wronged. Nothing must go unpunished.” That phrase clicked in your head, the one that Attius had used against you. At that moment, you understood what was happening.

The doors to one of the entrances opened and out came the person you were expecting. Your master, Attius, had his hands bound by shackles in front of him. He was led in by multiple guards, crossing the sandy terrain. You sucked in a breath when they got closer and you could get a better look at him. He was dressed in rags, but his arms and the lower half of his legs were exposed, showing the gnarly bruises that littered his skin. Splotches of blood, some aged more than others, consumed the brown cotton he wore. 

What shocked you the most was the bruise on his face that was almost an exact copy of the one he gave you. 

Commodus chuckled lightly to himself when Attius almost stumbled over. You now understood where he was for those hours of not being at the palace. While undeniably barbaric, something about his protective nature and thirst for vengeance on your part was, in a twisted way, attractive. When Attius got within speaking distance, Commodus tightened his hold on you as if to assure himself you would no longer get hurt. 

“You have committed an egregious crime,” Commodus spoke. Your hands placed over his that rested on your stomach and began to carefully thread your fingers through his. He had gotten tense and you were doing what you could to calm him down, if only slightly. 

“Caesar, please! Mercy! Show me mercy!” Attius was shoved down to his knees by the guards, kicking up some of the sand. 

“Mercy from me? No, it is not me that you wronged,” Commodus turned to you, his face of indifference and hate towards Attius morphing into adoration for you, “My lady, do you grant him mercy?”

For a moment, you wanted to. You may have many weeks ago, but lately, you had come to understand that violence was often necessary; all thanks to Commodus’ guidance. You thought of everything Attius did towards your fellow servants over the years. Each indignity, each strike, each time he would show no clemency. 

You wanted him to feel that fear. 

“No mercy,” You answered. Commodus smiled at you and his eyes twinkled with something akin to excitement. He surged forward to capture you in a heated kiss. You matched the fervour, pushing back and feeling the softness of his lips against yours. He hummed with satisfaction, tasting the fruit you had eaten a while ago on your lips. 

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re perfect,” He then turned to face Attius again, losing all sense of warmth in his gaze, “It is, with my fair judgement, deemed that the offended parties will fight until death.” Your brows furrowed at his words. He did not mean that you would fight, right? 

Attius looked just as confused as you, “Caesar, surely I will not fight her?” 

“Of course not,” Commodus scoffed as if the mere notion was the worst idea ever proposed, “No, you will not be fighting my lady. Moreover, my lady’s favourite animal shall fight for her.” 

While Attius was still perplexed, your face dropped. You looked around the arena, suddenly aware of a looming threat. Commodus would not, would he? But then again, this kind of violence was in his nature. You understood why he picked out your outfit for that night, how the colours matched that of a tiger. The same animal he had seen you weaving into the pattern of a carpet. 

Suddenly, growling could be heard, looming ever closer. With a loud thundering snap, a section of the ground was pulled back quickly. There was no time to spare as a tiger, large and snarling, lept out from the depths. A chain was linked to a collar on its neck but did little to disrupt its movements. 

Your eyes were glued to the scene, stuck in a state of both stupor and intrigue. Commodus was smiling madly and he rested his chin on your shoulder. You revelled in his warmth while you watched Attius fail to fight back with nothing but a short sword. 

The fight did not last long. Even if he was not beaten and frail, there was no winning against the ravenous beast. It lunged and sunk its teeth into his side. You could see the tiger's jaw clench down and elicit screams of pain from Attius’ mouth. When he fell, the tiger took it as an advantage and aimed for his throat, cutting off his wails. As the beast fed, Commodus leaned back in his throne and used a hand to turn your chin to face him. 

“Do you see what I have done for you?” He began, “Take it as a vow. All those that lay a finger on you will be eaten like scraps. That was the fate of that filthy vermin that marked your arm, the fate of your master, and the fate of anyone who dares come after you now. You belong to me and me alone. Right, darling?” 

You nodded, too lost in the trance of his eyes to speak. His thumb brushed your lower lip before retreating. From a small round side table, Commodus lifted a woven laurel wreath that was as green as his eyes. He placed it on you and adjusted it so it sat along the crown of your head. 

“It appears you won the fight. Congratulations, my victor.” He kissed you on the cheek before gently tracing the bruise on your face. There was still an air of contempt that he held while looking at your injury, but Attius’ death gave him more satisfaction. 

“Thank you, Commodus.” You said. 

“We shall celebrate,” He squeezed your hips as a signal to get up and you did. He stood up after you and held out his hand, “Come,” 

You placed your hand in his, warming at the familiarity of his touch. Taking one last glance at Attius’ still body, you followed Commodus out of the viewing box.

You had been eating at a table in Commodus’ chambers since the two of you arrived back at the palace. It was a private dinner, but still grand in the assembly of food laid out. The two of you ate and talked like you once did before you avoided him. It felt right to go back into that routine like all was finally right with the world. 

The sun had long set and the both of you finished eating and only talked after. As the night got older, you began to unwind. Commodus stood off to the side, facing away from you as he took off his armour pieces. You occasionally glanced towards him while sipping on wine – not remembering the amount of cups you had. By the time he had gotten down to his underclothes and was unfastening his forearm braces, you decided to voice a question that had been burning you inside. 

“Commodus?” He turned to give you his attention and hummed. You took another quick sip, “Why did you choose me?” He paused for a moment, as if your question did not entirely make sense.

“I’ve already told you. At the very least, part of it,” He took off his braces and placed them next to his other armour pieces. His footsteps echoed off of the marble flooring as he came back to you. Commodus rested his forearm over the top of your chair as he leaned over you. 

“You sang at that festival and I felt warmth for the first time. It followed me in my dreams ever since. Admittedly, I did not know if you were still in the palace as you did not frequent above the lower levels. I should have hanged Attius for keeping you from the light.” His fingers reached out to trace your arm, moving up the length, across your shoulder, and towards the exposed collarbone. 

All of a sudden, his posture went rigid. You could see the bump on his throat move up and down as he swallowed nervously. After a few tense seconds, he lowered himself to your eye level, crouching slightly. The gesture alone was incredible. Never would you have predicted an emperor would lower himself to your level, both literally and figuratively. 

“I am correct in assuming these feelings are reciprocated?” He asked. You understood why he had become so nervous. While naturally ruthless, Commodus was an insecure man who looked for approval in the faces of everyone around him. Whether one could consider that a weakness or a strength was up to them. For you, none of that mattered. 

It was almost comical the way you shared that same worry for a while. You too were scared that the depths of his dedication and care were shallow, but if today had taught you anything, it was that a notion like that was far from the truth. 

“You are correct, Commodus.” You responded, “I deeply care for you.��� Those words washed over him and you could see how he instantly relaxed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, scanning you up and down as if to see if you were real. 

He surged forward and captured your lips with his, an ecstasy of heat. You melted into the feeling and relished in the attention. His hands gripped your waist tightly and pulled you up from the chair until your lower back dug into the table. He lifted you to sit on the table, the plates and cutlery jostling with the movement. Commodus was devouring you and at that moment you realized you did not mind it at all.

His movement to pick you up and place you on the table caused you to gasp, which he used to his advantage. His tongue entered your mouth, exploring and dominant. Your breathing became laboured and your body felt fuzzy – as if all the sensations around you that were not Commodus faded into the background. 

He kissed you a few more times before gently biting on your lower lip, pulling away and letting it go. You opened your eyes and saw him staring right at you. His chest was heaving slightly and he kept his forehead resting on yours; completely unwilling to be further from you in any way. 

“That…” Your whispered voice trailed off. Commodus smiled at how dazed you were and was happy to see his power over you. 

Glancing out the window near you, you saw just how dark it was and understood that it had to be closer to twilight. Your mood instantly died. You would need to go to bed immediately. Already you had lost out on valuable sleeping time and knew it would cause you to lack in your chores tomorrow. 

“Commodus, there is nothing I would like more than to stay with you, believe me. But I need to go and rest. There are many tasks I have to get to tomorrow.” 

He looked at you like you had said something incredibly bizarre, “Did you not hear what I told you in the arena? You are mine and because of that, you will do no more work. From now on, my room is yours. You are my lady, the emperor’s lady.” His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, as he pushed himself to stand between them. Even sitting on the table, you did not reach his height. 

“And what will people say?” You questioned. 

“They’ll say nothing if they favour their heads.” Something in the way he said those words made you more eager for him. Deciding to take charge for once, you grabbed the fabric of his tunic and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Commodus moved with you as he was eager to participate, but remained gentle to not hurt your bruises.

There was a heat that bubbled in your stomach, fueling a hunger that you had never felt before. Instinctively, your hips ground against his. Commodus reciprocated, moving the clothed area of his hardening length against your core. The kiss got more intense, a mesh of heated breath and knocking teeth. He clung to you like a last resort, like you were his last chance to arrive in the Elysium fields. 

Your hands roamed everywhere, up his arms and down his chest, feeling the muscles that lay under the fabric of his tunic. The table moved with the force of each of your movements, becoming unstable. Commodus gripped your thighs, pushing them against his sides and wrapping around his waist. You let him pull your arms around his neck and he lifted you off of the table. 

His strength nearly shocked you, but it was not surprising. He pulled away from the kiss long enough so he could walk up the marble steps to the raised dias that held his bed. Before you knew it, you found yourself falling onto the plush silk sheets of his bed; or more accurately what he has now framed as your shared bed. The thought sent a fluttering feeling to the already burning part of your stomach and lodged up towards your chest. 

Commodus leaned down over you and rested on one forearm while he used his free hand to trace across your collarbone and neck, “You’re mine. Not the senate’s, not Rome’s, not anyone’s.” 

You nodded enthusiastically, begging for more attention from him, “Yours, only yours.”

Commodus leaned down and began to assail your neck; licking, kissing, and biting every inch. You trembled under his touch and became reduced to nothing but breathless moans. His hands pulled away at the fabrics that wrapped your form, the pretty assemble being torn off you. You would have been sad about it if it were not for the fact that he could easily buy you another. 

He took away each layer and left you bare under him. Commodus stopped his assault on your neck and pulled back to look at you. Despite the occasional bruise on your arms and legs and a fading one on your stomach, he reached out and gripped your hip and swiped his thumb back and forth as his gaze travelled over you. 

“My Venus,” He whispered. If you were not already unwound below him, you would have melted right there. 

“Commodus,” His name fell like a plea on your lips. You needed him desperately and began to tug at his clothing. He humoured you, smiling softly as he stripped down. Once he was bare, you latched onto his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. You felt the softness of his lips as your tongues explored one another. His chest brushed against yours and the skin contact made you moan. He felt just as hot as your blood, pulsing and begging under the skin. 

One of his large hands trailed down your stomach and brushed over your hip bone before caressing your inner thigh. In an instant, you opened your legs – entirely ready to surrender to him. Sensing how eager you were, he chuckled against your lips. 

“So impatient, my love.” His fingers moved up your inner thigh but stopped just as he got close to your core. You whimpered when he ceased his movements. “Beg, darling. Tell me how much you want me.” 

“Commodus please,” You moved your hips to try and get closer to his touch but he used his other hand to hold you down. He tsked and shook his head from side to side. 

“That’s not playing fair,” He scolded you. While his hands were preoccupied with holding you down, yours were free and you used that to your advantage. He may be able to bring you to heel, but you know you could do just the same. 

“Fuck being fair,” It was the first time you swore in front of him and his eyes sparkled at that, “Fuck me, Commodus, please.” Your hands moved to his lower stomach, lower and lower until you were able to grasp his hard cock. His entire body shuddered and his nostrils flared. Something clicked in him, a snap and his patience was gone. 

Commodus pushed up further on the bed and crawled on top of the sheets, moving right up to you. You had shuffled towards the headboard with your legs bent at the knees and together. His hands gripped your knees and spread your legs so he could slot himself between them. 

“Do you want this?” His warm breath tickled your neck as he trailed his lips across the skin, just barely touching but feeling so right. 

You grabbed his jaw with both of your hands and moved his head to look him in the eyes, “Would I have spread my legs for you otherwise?” His eyes darkened at that and you could feel his jaw clench. 

It was then that you had an idea that may not have been the best. You had seen how possessive he was of you and the violence he was willing to give to others on your behalf. You wanted to test the waters and see how much you could rile him up. 

“Are you going to stop teasing and fuck me or do I have to find someone else?” It was a fake threat. There was nobody else that could ever compare to Commodus; nobody else you would ever want to even speak to. His face fell into incredible seriousness and you let go of him, only for his hand to grip your chin. It was not strong enough to hurt but it held your attention. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, darling.” He leaned down with his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “By the time I am done, you won’t even be able to think about anybody else.” 

In an instant, his warm fingers brushed through your folds. You sucked in a breath at the contact. His fingers moved meticulously, discovering each stroke that made you shake under him and moan. Commodus kissed across the expanse of your neck and chest, dragging his teeth along the skin occasionally. You found it hard to keep your eyes open as you were entranced by what you felt. 

Your hands moved to cart through his hair. When you tugged at the strands, Commodus groaned. It appeared he was particularly sensitive there and you made a note to remember that in the future. He retaliated by latching his lips on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch. You felt one of his fingers slip into you at the same time while his thumb circled your bud. The fire that coursed through your veins was overwhelming and your breathing became erratic. He slipped another finger into you and upped the pace, dragging in and out with the rhythm of your hips moving. 

His name tumbled from your lips over and over again like you were reciting a prayer. His mouth left marks across your chest and neck, some of which you knew would not be able to cover. You had a feeling it was deliberate. In your haze of pleasure, you could feel your body pull taught. The point of no return was met. 

“Com… Commodus, I–” Your voice hitched as his thumb rolled over your bud once more. 

Against the heat of your skin, his voice murmured, “I know, darling. Let go.” It was as if that was the final straw you needed. 

The tense string of your body snapped and you found yourself shattering. He continued his movements, helping you ride out your high. Your head lolled to the side as you shut your eyes. His fingers moved out of you and you suddenly felt sad at the loss of contact. You craved more and wished to spend the rest of your time living in this bed with Commodus. 

“Open your eyes for me,” Commodus’ hands cradled your face. You slowly opened your eyes, staring right into his. His lips turned up, “There’s my girl.” He leaned in to kiss you and groaned at the feeling. Your body was still sensitive and recovering from your orgasm, but you craved more of him. 

“Commodus… please.” There were no other words that needed to be said. His movements were eager, but not rushed. He shifted up so he was on his knees and grabbed his cock that was slick with precum. Slowly, almost painfully, he dragged the tip along your folds. You whimpered at the feeling and lifted your hips to feel more friction. 

The haze of your previous peak was still heavy. You understood then why some people were so provocative in their transgressions. If you could stay like this with him forever you would stake your life to the ground and take that deal in a heartbeat. 

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too much at just the feel of his cock against your folds. He collected your slick on his skin, trailing up again until the head got caught right at your entrance. Gradually, he pushed forward until he bottomed out. You saw his eyebrows furrow and noise leave his mouth that was a mix of a sigh and a groan. He muttered a few curses. 

Commodus did not rush as he was content at the pace he was going because it made you come undone and desperate for anything more. The feeling of being so full made you squirm. You wanted friction or anything to bring back the feeling of ecstasy you had. Your heart felt like it was going to pump out of your chest. Being connected like this with him was the best feeling in the world and you cursed your past self for believing it was a silly fantasy. This was real; real and raw and so good.

He slowly pulled out, dragging until the last moment to make you feel empty. You whined at the loss of his warmth but quickly shut up when he pushed back in, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated that action a few times, each getting faster until he set a steady pace. Your hips matched his movements. His face was buried in your neck with his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You could hear his moans and grunts which only spurred you on further. 

You scratched the planes of his back, digging deeper with each thrust. Even when so deeply connected it did not feel like it was enough. Nothing could ever feel enough to be connected with him. Your scratching made Commodus move faster, picking up the pace. 

The change of speed caused you to release your hold on him, finding little energy to lift your arms. It was like you were under a spell and completely under his influence. 

“That’s it, gods, good girl,” Commodus murmured into your ear. You moaned back with small babbles of his name as your brain was unable to form a single thought other than him; his presence, his feel, him, him, him. It consumed your mind and left you a squirming mess. 

He took your hands that had fallen, grabbed your wrists, and pinned them above your head. Your legs wrapped around his waist and it changed the angle at which he was thrusting into you. The tip of his cock hit a soft spot in you that had you chasing stars at the back of your eyes. The stretch that he gave you was a good ache, one that spread out from your core and burned through your body.  

Commodus began to mutter words with each thrust, “Mine. My girl. My Venus.” He went on and on. Your chest rose against his, pushing for a bit more contact. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but his grip on your wrist was tight. His breath hit the shell of your ear, tickling it slightly. 

The familiar feeling of your build-up hit you and Commodus could tell. He continued the steady rhythm but changed the angle to reach deeper. You nearly shouted at the difference. While he was relentless, his posture changed slightly, becoming less composed as he chased the same high you were experiencing. Both of you could feel the bed moving under you, its sturdy build taking the movement. 

You were wound up again and pulled taught, but this time it felt more intense than the previous. Commodus lost his movement and fucked you with reckless abandon. All manner of control was lost and his perfect posture faltered. It seemed, like you, he had become just as mindless and broken down – doing everything possible to chase pleasure. Despite it all, you could still feel the care that he had for you in the way he muttered sweet nothings into your ear. You squeezed around his length as the build-up in your stomach started to increase. 

“Let go, love. Let me hear you.” Commodus instructed. 

Suddenly, like the waves that crashed against the shores of the home of your childhood, a flood of ecstasy came over you as you reached your peak and descended off of it. Your wanton moans filled the room, matching the sounds the two of you had been making for a while. Commodus visibly relished in it, nipping at your earlobe and kissing your neck. The feeling of your orgasm caused your walls to squeeze and made his movements falter. 

He pulled out suddenly, right as he came. The hot strings of cum coated your lower abdomen. He moved to rest his forehead on yours, eyes closed and face scrunched in the heat of his pleasure. Your legs felt numb. Commodus almost collapsed on top of you. He released his hold on your wrists and held himself up by his forearms on either side of your head. 

The two of you joined in a kiss. This one was a sharp contrast to the quick pace you had. It was slow and passionate, full of trust and care. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing it back with a gentleness unseen. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the perspiration that gathered there. Both of your bodies came down from the high, chests rising and falling. 

You thought back to just a few short weeks ago when you were invited into his room. You were incredibly glad he only wanted company then. If not for that, you would have never been able to build this relationship with him. Moreso, you were incredibly thankful your younger self decided to sing at that festival and caught his attention. It seemed that little actions in life led to big changes. 

It still felt absurd now with your change of position. You were no longer a servant, no longer expected to fulfill the duties that had your body aching and mind hurting at the end of the day. 

It was so ridiculous to you, that you could not help but let out a chuckle. Commodus moved his forehead from yours and opened his eyes. You wished to get lost in those eyes. 

“And what do you find so amusing, hm?” He spoke. 

You looked at him with adoration, “Is it wrong to be happy?” 

“No,” Commodus moved to rest beside you, taking a spare cloth from the wash basin placed beside the bed and wiping your stomach down. There was something in his movements that felt almost… domestic. It was not something you ever thought of an emperor doing. “I’m glad you are happy.” 

A beat of silence passed as he laid down next to you on his back and used an arm to pull you flush against him. Your head rested on his pec, hearing the thumping of his heart. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. He squeezed you closer and kissed your temple.

“You made me happy long before all of this.” He answered. Your face scrunched up with wonder. 

“What do you mean?” You lifted your head to look into his eyes, fingers tracing patterns onto his chest. 

“Your singing. It followed me everywhere since that festival. From my mind,” He placed one hand over yours and guided it right above where his heart would be, “to here.” 

There were no words you could think of to respond with. The poetics of his words hit you. You wanted to drown in him, to stay there in that moment for a lifetime. You reached out to trace his jaw, thumb massaging the top of his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch and kissed the pulse point of your wrist. 

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you, for everything,” You could barely imagine what it would be like back in your old life, under the constant fear of your old master, “I may not know what I can do to repay you but–”

“Stay with me.” He interrupted you. There was a shine in his eyes, “You want to repay me? Stay. That is all I need.” 

You stared at him and nodded your head, “I’ll always stay.”

The two of you understood the depths of the promise. It was your own declaration of love, without the words being spoken. A mutual understanding and a promise of forever. It was not traditional to other couples, but again you knew this relationship already did not fit within the bounds of traditionality. It did not matter. 

You kissed him again, sealing the words upon both of your lips. There, you were content to start a new life; a better life.

This was incredibly fun to write! I am 100% open to writing more fics for any characters in the Gladiator films and plan to open up requests. So, if that's something ya'll are interested in, let me know.

Thank you all for the support! <3

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