#fred hechinger/reader

[yearsbecomingcool]

thrill me, chill me, fulfill me | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | college au!simon x co-worker!reader

synopsis | simon has gone off to college and started working at a movie theater where he meets you. it doesn't take long for him to fall to you and one thing leads to another and he's on his knees in front of you in the office.

warnings | 18+!!!! mdni!!!, sexual content, semi-public sex, subby!simon, oral f!receiving, dom!reader, f!reader, public humiliation, sexual fantasies, mentions of piv, attempted footjob, we're getting into pet-lay territory with some of this dialogue, reader calls simon 'puppy', dry humping, and a fluffy ending.

word count | 7.1k

a/n | i love rocky horror so much and i feel like simon would love it too so all the sequences at the rocky horror screening were so much fun. i still haven't been able to go to a screening but it seems so fun. i also had to make him work at a theater because the movie theater is my happy place and i have to throw my interests in somehow!!

taglist | @slaytheusurper

Simon Kalivoda had managed to do the impossible, he graduated high school and got the fuck out of Shadyside…temporarily at least. He’d gotten into Kent State and was sad he didn’t have the grades to join Kate somewhere better but he’d take what he could get. He’d saved up enough money from his years working at the grocery store to put down a deposit for an apartment near campus and started his summer off by applying at as many places near campus as possible. The first one to call him back was a family owned movie theater by campus, they were known for hosting screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and tons of midnight movies. He quickly took the job and that’s where he met you. 

His first shift was one of the midnight shadow cast screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. He had no idea what he was in for, but you spent the first hour of your shift getting him caught up. You leaned against the concession counter, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. “All these people are gonna come in looking like they came from those cool queer clubs in New York. They’re nice but one of the biggest parts of this is making a total mess so it’s gonna be a bitch to clean but they tip great. They throw rice, newspapers, confetti, toilet paper, toast, and cards. A few people have been known to throw hot dogs and prunes too so be on the lookout for that. They bring in water guns and all kinds of shit, it’s a whole thing.”

“And Eli is okay with that?” Simon asks, slack jawed. He can’t believe the owner would be okay with patrons making such a mess.

“It’s good for business and it’s fun, he’d never admit it but I always see him go into the theater when it starts, he loooooves that shit. I’ve gone on nights off before, it is pretty fun. They have a whole ritual for virgins, people who’ve never gone to one of those midnight showings, it’s humiliating…and a little fun.”

“Did you have to do that ritual?” Simon is pretty intrigued.

“Oh yeah. I came in with my fishnets and sequin hot pants thinking I could be unnoticed but the people who run these remember everybody. They put a giant V on my forehead in red lipstick when I walked in and they pulled me and all the other ‘virgins’ up on stage. They really like the shy ones, which of course I was. They made all of us fake an orgasm and the two they liked best got pulled up for the wedding scene to be Ralph and Betty.”

Simon tilts his head like a puppy, “How’d you do?” He has a stupid little smirk on his face when he says it.

“Let’s just say I made the best Betty Monroe this town has ever seen.” He throws his head back and laughs in a way that makes you wanna kiss him.

“Laugh it up for now but next screening I’m making sure you’re off and I’ll be front and center to watch them pull you up there. Just how good of an actor are you, Simon?”

He smirks, “You’ll just have to wait for my debut.

You and Simon become friends quite quickly, you’re both around the same age and soak up movie knowledge like a sponge. Your slow shifts are spent going head to head in movie trivia and arguing over franchises and sequels. 

“There’s no way you think the Nightmare on Elm Street films are better than the Friday the 13th films, you’re full of shit Simon!”

“The only thing I’m full of is correct opinions. Jason is boring, he doesn’t ever talk. Freddy could kill him easily,” Simon retorts, pointing his twizzler at you.  

You smack the twizzler, “Bullshit! Freddy can only get people in their dreams, does Jason even sleep?”

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it soon after, he reaches up and scratches his head. “Wait, fuck, does he sleep? I think you just destroyed my whole argument here…”

“Maybe it’s a draw? If Jason can’t sleep they can’t fight…” You trail off.

“Whatever. Nightmare is still better than Friday, Freddy makes the movies. What does Jason have besides dumb teenagers having sex and getting killed with a machete?”

Before you can respond someone slaps the bell on the counter, “Shouldn’t you two be working?” It’s Eli, the owner and lead manager of the theater. He doesn’t look too amused by your bickering with Simon.

“Sorry Eli…I’ll go clean the bathroom or something…” You mutter, slipping out from behind the counter and heading for the supply closet. Simon watches you as you walk off and Eli rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers in front of Simon’s face.

“You need to be more subtle, y'know. I know she’s a pretty little thing but I didn’t hire you to stare all day, start restocking. You’re a good employee, don’t fuck it up with some silly little workplace romance. I’ve seen enough fizzle out to know how they all end, I don’t feel like losing either one of my best employees this year.” 

Simon sighs and salutes Eli, “You got it boss. I’ll stick to fantasizing about the girls on the posters instead.”

“Better,” Eli jokes before heading to his office.

As the school year was starting up along came another Rocky Horror showing. You’d pulled some strings and managed to get Simon off work that night just like you’d promised. He had freaked out over what to wear but you told him whatever he wore would be fine since you’d be doing his makeup anyway. He settled on a black blazer, black jeans, a band t-shirt, and his signature combat boots. He met you at your dorm like you insisted so you could help him get ready. He maneuvered through the halls until he’d found your room. A small whiteboard hung on the door, your name written in big blocky letters. You had a small dry erase marker hanging on the door for people to write or draw on it. Before knocking on your door Simon uncapped the marker and drew a little smiley face under your name. He knocks on your door and his eyes go wide when he sees you. You’re standing in front of him in a loose black corset that you’re holding against your chest, a pair of tiny rainbow sequin shorts, a pair of fishnets, and some platform boots. “Great timing, I needed someone to lace me up!” You pull him into your dorm room, shutting the door behind him. His eyes wander around your room, clothes spill out of the small laundry basket near your open closet door, posters you’ve taken home from the theater line your walls. You’ve got a framed poster of ‘Serial Mom’ hanging above your bed. You nod your head towards it, “Eli got me into John Waters when I started working at the theater, he gave me that framed poster to celebrate my one year anniversary of working at the theater.”

“That’s so cool of him…I can’t say I’ve ever seen Serial Mom.”

“I’ve got it on tape, we’ll watch it sometime. But for now can you lace me up?” You ask, turning your back to him. The laces of your corset hang loose down your back. His eyes wander lower than they should and he briefly admires how your ass looks in those shorts, the bottoms of your cheeks hanging out just enough for his mind to go crazy. He clears his throat and begins to pull at the laces, he doesn’t pull tight enough, feeling scared to hurt you.

“Pull harder, you won’t hurt me, promise. I just really don’t need to flash anyone tonight more than I already am,” you laugh. 

His face is flushed and his hands tremble as he pulls the strings tighter and tighter against your skin. You bend forward in a way that makes his breath get caught in his throat, “Pull as hard as you can, I’m serious.” He gulps and obeys, pulling the strings as hard as he can. You whimper softly as he does, “There we go…tie it for me.” He carefully ties the things of the corset, double knotting it just to be sure it’s secure. He takes a step back when he’s done and watches as you stand up straight, checking that it fits right. You turn back to him with a smile, “Thank you! Now let’s get you ready, yeah? Sit on the bed for me.”

Simon sits down on the bed obediently, eyes following you as you go over to your desk and rifle through your makeup drawer until you find what you’re looking for. You set a small eyeshadow palette and a few brushes on the bed next to Simon, holding a gel eyeliner pen in your hands. You stand between his legs and bend down, “I’m gonna make you pretty. Just do what I say so it doesn’t get fucked up, ‘kay?”

He nods in response, trying to keep eye contact and not let his eyes wander. 

“Look up for me, this is gonna feel weird but I won’t hurt you.” As Simon looks up you very carefully apply the black eyeliner to his waterline, his face scrunches up as he tries desperately not to blink. 

“Fuck this feels weird!” Simon exclaims, his hands balled up into fists against the comforter.

“I’m sorry! Sorry! I’ll try to speed it up, let me just…” You quickly outline about halfway under both eyes before playing the eyeliner down and reaching for your eyeshadow palette and a small brush. You smoke out the line beneath his eye before applying a soft silver shimmer to both eyes. After that you start on his top lids, you hold him by the chin as you lean towards him. “This is gonna feel awful but please don’t move.”

“You owe for this,” Simon mutters, enjoying the feeling of you holding him in place.

“Whatever you say…” You start quickly applying eyeliner to his upper waterline and he groans in discomfort.

“Oh what the fuck?! What are you doing?!” He yelps, hands reaching forward for your waist. His hands curl into the fabric of your shorts.

“Simon, stop! Fuck…just let me…can you lay down? It might make it easier on both of us.”

“I uhh…yeah…sure just uh…w-whatever you need to do…” He stumbles over his words, laying back on your twin sized bed. You climb onto him, straddling his hips. You lean over him and giggle when you look down at him, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s um…it’s fine.” He prays you don’t notice how red he is. You notice. 

You lean down towards him to finish applying the eyeliner to his waterline. His hands grip your hips and his breathing is unsteady, this having an effect on him and you love it. You’ve always been into the submissive types, a strong muscled man who takes charge has never really done it for you. The dorky guys who would do anything you said no matter what are more for you. When Simon was first hired you were instantly intrigued. You begged Eli to put him with you for his first shift and he did. He was witty enough to keep up with you but intimidated enough to let you order him around, he was just what you’d been wanting. “Close your eyes for me.” You watch as he obeys and you apply a thin line of eyeliner onto his eyelids, just barely peeking above his lash line. You smoke it out with the same black eyeshadow from before and then take a silver glitter and apply it to his inner corner. You add mascara as a final step before rolling off him, “Go see what you think.” You smile over at him as he gets up from the bed and goes over to your vanity mirror to look. His jaw drops and his eyes widen as he looks at himself in the mirror. 

“Oh shit! I look…hot?” This is the confidence he needs for the rest of the night to not fall to his knees and beg you to kiss him. In high school he’d always act more confident than he really was, he pretended he was some smooth ladies man and women would just fall to his feet. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The most action he’d get was a few girls flirting to try and get lower prices on whatever pills they were buying off him that week. Well that’s not entirely true. He wasn’t a virgin, he’d lost his virginity when he was 16. It wasn’t anything special, a nervous hookup with a girl he met at a party. They were both nervous and it was sloppy, fine but forgettable. His hand had really been the only one to keep him company as the years went on.

You laugh and walk over to him, grabbing him by his shoulder to turn him towards you. You take a look examining his face carefully, “I think you need some blush.” You shove him down into your desk chair and look through your makeup for a shade that’ll look nice on him. He hardly needs it though after how you manhandled him. You come back over with a soft pink shade and a brush. You apply the blush, careful to not add too much. You use it almost as a contour, following his bones structure and fanning it out onto his cheeks. You turn the chair for him to look back into the mirror, “Now you look really hot.”

“Woah…I do…goddamn. The only other makeup I’ve worn before was like…green face paint in high school and some black on my eyebrows. I uh, I used to be my school's mascot. We were the witches,” he explains. 

“I can totally imagine you as a school mascot, you have that energy,” you say as you put away your makeup.

“Thanks…I think?”

“I meant that in a good way, I swear!” You say defensively as you stroll over to your closet looking for a jacket. You hold up two options for Simon to choose from, a black leather jacket and a black blazer. “Which one do you think?”

Simon thinks for a minute examining his options, if you wore the blazer you could kind of match him but the leather jacket would look cool too. “Uhh…blazer, definitely the blazer.”

“Good choice, we can match. You shove the leather jacket back into the closet and slip on the blazer. It’s longer than Simon expected, falling just above your shorts. It looks like you may as well be pantless, not that he’s complaining of course.

You sit on your bed with a handwritten list of call outs and prop instructions. You made a bag of props for you and Simon to share as well. Simon scoots the chair closer to take a look. He smiles at your messy handwriting and the stickers that adorn the sheet. The top reads ‘A Virgin’s Guide to Rocky Horror’. He’s more than happy that the blush you applied earlier conceals his actual blushing. You hand the list to him, your fingers brushing as you do. You’ve obviously touched before but every touch after you straddled him earlier makes him feel like he’s on fire. “I made it for you, it’s way too much to memorize for your first time so you can just read it off whenever it’s time.” You give him a soft smile, taking a second to admire how the eyeliner makes his blue eyes pop. 

“Thank you, seriously you didn’t have to do all this.” Simon was worried about making friends when he went off to college, it felt weird to be separated from Kate and Deena after being friends for so long. Thanks to you he didn’t need to worry anymore, you welcomed him on his first day at work like you had been friends for years.

“I know but I couldn’t have you looking stupid, could I?” You laugh, reaching for your purse. You look through it until you find your bright red lipstick, the exact one you’re wearing right now. You lean forward, signaling him to lean down. “Almost forgot…” You uncap the lipstick and draw a giant red V on his forehead. “There, look’s complete now.”

“What happened to make sure I didn’t look stupid?” He groans, leaning back in his chair.

“Hey! It’s tradition, don’t blame me. It was gonna end up on you one way or another. Just be thankful I got it over with now, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna have a great time and you look hot, seriously everyone is gonna go crazy for that eyeliner. You should be thanking me honestly, if at least one person doesn’t ask for your number tonight I’ll be shocked. I mean seriously, look at you.” You motion to him.

He feels his cheeks heat up and his mouth go dry. He doesn’t know how to say he wants it to be you who asks for his number, he wants it to be you who kisses him in the theater bathroom and messes up his hair in the process. Instead he chuckles, “We’ll see.”

“Don’t let me leave disappointed, pretty boy.” You ruffle his hair playfully, he wishes you’d tug him by it and pull him into a kiss instead.

The drive to the theater is more nerve wracking than he’d like to admit. Five minutes of pure anxiety as you try to quickly explain the film to him. “Fuck it’s so sexy and fun, it changed my life when I first watched it. My parents are total conservatives, they hate anything fun and liberating, so I watched it for the first time at a friend's house. It completely changed my life. I stopped really giving a shit about what my parents and all those other conservative losers thought about me and started living for me. I’ve never looked back since.”

“I’ve kind of done the same. Shadyside was kind of a nightmare to live in. All those Sunnyvale kids judged us just for where we were born, it was fucked. I think I stopped caring just to spite them and their stuck up attitudes, y’know?”

You turn to look at him, interested in learning more. “What was Shadyside like? I mean I’ve heard all these stories over the years, it’s murder capital of the country after all…”

He parks the car and turns to you, “It was just like every other boring small town in America. Every couple of years there’d be some murders, my senior year it was Ryan Torres killing Heather Watkins and a couple other mall employees. I guess growing up like that you get a little…numb to it I guess? I know that sounds bad but as soon as one happened everyone at school would joke around about it, I guess it’s how we coped with it.” 

You nod in understanding, “I get that, the whole joking around part. My family does the same. At a certain point it’s really all you can do.”

Simon unbuckles his seat belt, “As fun as it is to talk about death with you I think we should get in line, it looks like it’s already pretty long.” He nods towards the line and you unbuckle and grab the prop bag from the backseat. You walk together towards the longline of movie goers. 

“Damn, looks like a great turn out. Are you ready to give them a show?” You joke.

He looks at you in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Did you forget about the initiation for virgins?” You giggle.

“Fuck…” He mutters. He did in fact forget.

“Oh babe you’re in for it tonight…”

As everyone trickles into the theatre Simon and the other virgins are pulled to the stage. You take a seat in the middle near the audience and put your prop bag in a seat to save it for Simon. He’s nervously holding his hands in front of him as the announcer begins to speak. “Welcome everyone to another showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” They pause as the crowd erupts into cheers. “We have some fresh virgins here to provide us with our favorite pre-show entertainment. We’ll be seeing who can fake an orgasm the best. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves to the crowd before we begin?” They pass the microphone to the girl standing closest to them, she’s dressed like Janet at the beginning of the film. Her nervousness is clear on her face. Simon is fourth in line and he puts on an act of confidence when it’s his turn, “I’m, Simon. I’m gonna win this little competition, trust me.” You raise your eyebrows at his confidence, now you really want to see what he has in store.

Finally everyone has finished introducing themselves and the mic is handed back to the host, “Now why don’t we get this started. Simon,” they point towards him as he stands in the middle of the lineup, “Why don’t you start us off since you’re so confident.” His cheeks go red with embarrassment, even with his blush on it’s clear thanks to the unrelenting glow of the spotlight. He’s really regretting his words, sure he’s always been a class clown but this audience is packed. He laughs nervously as he’s handed the microphone. “Uhh okay…”

The silence of the crowd does nothing to calm his nerves, so you decide to yell some encouragement. “C’mon baby! Give me some shower head material!” The crowd laughs but it seems to help Simon as he recognizes your voice.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, he’ll feel better if he doesn’t look. He decides he’ll give a little build up, whimpering pathetically into the mic. He imagines you riding him, his hands on your hips as he begs you to let him come. He starts to moan into the mic, getting louder and louder before mumbling, “Oh fuck…” He moans and whines dramatically into the mic, falling to his knees and throwing his head back. He pants and whimpers as if it’s the real thing. You can feel a wet spot growing in your panties, you know he just gave you the best damn shower head material of your life. Once he’s done he stands and bows, his cheeks flushed. He hands the mic back to the presenter as everyone claps and cheers. He spots you in the crowd and teasingly blows you a kiss. 

“Well whoever is gonna be on top of him tonight is in for a treat, huh? I think that’ll be pretty tough to beat.” The rest of the virgins have their turns, none nearly as impressive as Simon. They end up choosing some girl dressed as Magenta to play Betty and of course pick Simon to play Ralph. He stays up at the front until after he’s gone up on stage for the wedding scene. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous as you watch him stand hand in hand with the other winner, she looks at him hungrily. You weren’t the only one impressed by his performance. Once their scene is over he runs back into the audience to find you. When he does you pull him down into the seat and kiss his cheek, leaving a red lip print. “You were fucking hot. I told you someone’s getting your number tonight.” 

He laughs and whispers, “They might ask for it but I’m not giving it out to just anyone.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Got your eye on someone?”

He shrugs, “I might.”

Once the movie is over you and Simon head to the local diner down the street from the theater. The winning girl had tried to approach him after the movie but you were quick to pull him away. Sure it was selfish but you couldn’t give a fuck. You wanted him for yourself even if you were too cowardly to make a move yet. You sat across from him in the booth, you shared a basket of fries together as you talked. “So? Did you have fun?” You dip your fry into the small tin of ketchup as you put your feet up next to where he sits.

He smiles, “I had a great time. The uhh,” he lowers his voice, “competition was a little embarrassing but your encouragement helped me out actually.”

“Well I had to say you definitely succeeded in giving me some shower head material so thanks for that,” you joke. 

He chokes on his sprite, “W-What-”

You stifle your laughter, “Calm down, I’m kidding! But you were pretty impressive, as a former winner myself I have to give you that.”

He smirks down at the table, clearly trying to make up his mind on something. “Am I ever gonna get to see your performance or?”

Now it’s your turn for your face to heat up in embarrassment, you drop your fry back into the basket. “Uhh…I guess you’ll have to really earn it out of me.” 

“Right here?” He cocks eyebrow and looks at you teasingly.

“What would you even do?”

He leans back and crosses his arms, looking around to make sure your section is empty. “Well…I could always get on my knees under the table. Spread your legs apart and pull down your shorts. I could tear a hole in those fishnets and maybe I could be mean and tease you through your underwear. Eventually I’d move them to the side or maybe I’d fully pull them down and eat you out and really earn it out of you.” 

Your jaw drops, you want him right here in this diner and you don’t give a fuck who sees. “W-Would you-”

“Not here. You’d be too loud,” he says smugly. 

“You sound so sure you could get me that loud,” you snap back. You move your foot off the seat and use it to kick his legs apart under the table. You slowly start to trail your boot up his leg. 

“I-I could! Y-You’d-” He yelps when the toe of your boot presses against his inner thigh. 

“I’d what, Simon?” You ask innocently. You start to move the toe of your boot towards his crotch, enjoying how he squirms in his seat. “You’re not so tough now, huh?” You lightly press the toe of your boot against his crotch, smirking as he bites his lip to stay quiet.

“You wanna get out of here?” You giggle.

He nods quickly, throwing a twenty on the table and standing up quickly. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, pushing you in front of him as he leads you to his car. As soon as you get in the car you’re on him. You kiss him hard, tugging at his hair as he leans against the console to reach you. He whines against your lips and you smirk against him, tugging harder at his hair. You love when he whines. You’re just about to move to his neck when there’s a knock on the window and the shine of a flashlight coming through. You groan as you pull away from him, “Not the fucking pigs…”

Simon sighs and turns towards the window, rolling it down for the cop standing outside the car. “Hi officer…” he says through gritted teeth.

“License and registration please,” the cop says emotionlessly. He leans his head down, looking at you, “License from you too, now.”

You both try to keep neutral faces as you look for your IDs and Simon looks for his registration, he hands them over to the cop once you’ve found them and the cop takes a look. “You know if I let you go any further I could’ve charged you both with public indecency and exposure.”

You both hang your heads shamefully, “Yes, officer. We’re very sorry,” you say.

He continues to lecture the both of you before finally letting you go. Once Simon has started to drive off back to your dorm you’re both howling with laughter. “Holy shit! Cock blocked by the pigs…can’t say that’s ever happened before!” He laughs. 

“I can’t say it’s happened to me either…the RA’s are pretty strict about late night guests so I don’t think I’ll be able to wrap this up. You think I gave you enough to manage?”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Yeah yeah, me and my hand will have a nice conversation about the way you were about to give me a footjob.” 

“Me and my shower head will have a conversation about that orgasm you faked on stage.”

“Promise?”

You nod, “Mhm, I was serious. That was some top tier shower head material, babe.”

“I tried, I really did.” He looks proud of himself.

“Oh I could tell.” 

He pulls into a parking spot outside your dorm. “So, when am I seeing you again?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, “You’re gonna hate me but probably not till our next shift together. You work thursday?”

He nods, “Mhm, closing shift.”

You smile, “Me too, looks like I’ll be seeing you then.” 

He smiles and leans forward, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. It’s not as needy as before, it’s sweet and soft instead. You kiss him back just as soft, if you could you’d kiss him for the rest of your life. When he pulls away he’s smiling like he just had his first kiss, “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“So will I. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you Thursday.” You hop out of his car and wave goodbye as you head back up to your dorm. As soon as you get inside you’re stripping off your clothes and making a beeline for the shower. You’re lucky enough to have a detachable shower head and you put it to good use just like you promised. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out his name and hold onto the wall to stabilize yourself. You’re looking forward to the next time you’ll get your hands on him.

Thursday finally rolls around and it’s an absolute nightmare of a shift. There’s something sinister in the air that has kids vomiting, teenagers talking through movies, and best of all adults fighting at a screening of Showgirls of all movies. It’s safe to say that you and Simon don’t get much time together. You’re taking turns taking care of whatever problem pops up while the other tries to work the snack bar as quickly and efficiently as possible. It’s not till you get everyone out of the building that a slight sense of peace washes over you. You and Simon are taking your time to clean up each theater. Once you’re finally alone in the lobby with Simon you open your mouth to start a conversation but Eli interrupts before you can even get a word out. 

“I’ve got a family emergency going on. I trust you both to lock up and count the money. Don’t fuck it up, yeah?” He says quickly before tossing the keys to Simon and heading for the door. Simon runs to lock the doors behind him, finally making his way over to you. Simon leans against the counter, admiring how you look in the outfit you chose today. You’re grateful there’s no uniform and that the dress code is so relaxed. You’re in a black sweater and a black skirt that sits just above your knee. Simon has spent his whole shift imagining getting down on his knees and hiking it up to eat you out. If he had a little less self control he might’ve pulled you into the supply closet to lift it up and get a peek at what panties you were wearing that night.

“We’re finally fucking alone…” He mutters, taking his time as he looks you up and down.

“This is close to being the worst shift I’ve ever worked,” You groan, leaning forward against the counter.

“Well…since we have the keys to the office do you wanna go watch those guys fighting from earlier?”

Your eyes light up with excitement, a wide grin spreading across your face. “Oh hell yes! Let me grab some popcorn first, they looked pretty bloody getting escorted out so I know this is gonna be some good shit!” You grab a small tub and fill it with popcorn, slathering it in butter. You walk with Simon to the office, making yourselves comfortable on some rolly chairs. You watch as Simon figures out how to reverse the cameras, going back until he finds right before the fight starts. The film played on the big screen when a man leaned over to a woman to say something, the man in the row behind him threw a handful of popcorn at them, a valid reaction to someone talking during a movie. It doesn’t take long for the man sitting behind the couple to drag the other guy out of his seat, a fight breaking out instantaneously, “Goddamn!” Simon grabs the popcorn bucket from your hands, spilling butter onto your exposed legs in the process.

You groan,  “Simon you got butter all over my legs, what the hell?!” You reach for a napkin but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

He looks at you with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.” You watch as he pauses the camera footage and gets out of his chair, sinking to his knees in front of you. 

“What the hell are you-”

He cuts you off by spreading your thighs, “I told you, I’m gonna clean you up.” You watch with wide eyes as he starts by licking the butter that splashed onto your knees, he’s thorough about it, making sure he gets every last bit of it. He slowly moves his way up your legs as you watch, biting your lower lip softly. “Pull your skirt back.”

You mindlessly do as he says, spreading your legs wider instinctively. He can see your underwear now, plain black cotton panties with a lace edge, a small white flower sewn onto the front. He licks up your thighs, getting closer and closer to your core as he cleans you up. Soon you can feel his breath against your core, he turns his head to kiss your inner thighs. What starts as soft kisses quickly turns into him leaving an array of hickeys on your inner thighs. He’s marking you possessively. You reach down and grab him by his hair, pulling him out from between your thighs. He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed. “Let me take my skirt off first, I didn’t know you’d be so…eager.” You stand from the chair and push your left foot forward, “Wanna take my shoes off for me, puppy?”

He nods and begins to unzip your boots, helping you remove them carefully, setting them aside. He watches as you unzip your skirt and let it fall down to the floor, you step out of it and watch as he picks it up and folds it carefully, setting it next to your shoes. You sit back down, spreading your legs for him, sitting on the edge of the chair. You giggle as he pulls you forward by the chair. He starts to place soft kisses on your hips, smiling shamelessly as he does. “You’re so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t stop thinking about you for my whole shift. You know that?”

You blush like a schoolgirl, “You’re full of it…”

“I’m serious. Let me worship you, please. You deserve it…” He pleads.

“I’ll allow it…I guess…” You mutter sarcastically, leaning your head back as you watch him.

He carefully bites down on your waistband, trying to pull down your panties. You lift your hips to help him as you watch in amusement. You look down at him with your mouth agape as you watch him tuck the pair into his pocket.

“I’m gonna need those back y’know,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“Not happening, sorry. Maybe I wanna start a collection,” he teases.

“Are you always this bratty?”

He pretends to think about it, “Maybe.”

“Prick.”

He shoves his head back between your thighs, you sigh as you feel his warm breath against your now exposed cunt. His movements are slow and teasing as he places a kiss on your clit before sucking on it, pulling away and giggling at how your hands curl against the chair. He leans down to lick up your slit, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit. You whine, your eyes fluttering. It’s been too long since someone besides yourself has touched you. He brings a hand up to hold your hips steady, his other hand coming up to your folds. He spreads you open, teasing your slit with his tongue as he reaches up to pinch your clit. He chuckles to himself when you gasp, huffing in pain and annoyance at his teasing action. He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, scissoring them to spread you open as he leans forward and takes your clit into his mouth. He’s better at this than you could’ve imagined, pleasure washing over you as he pumps his fingers inside of you, curling them as he works to push deeper and deeper.

“Jesus fuck Simon, guess there wasn’t much else to do in Shadyside huh?” You joke breathlessly, a whimper escaping your lips directly after. You’re a mess from his touch, you can feel him smirk against you. He is pretty proud of his skills.

He starts to push his fingers deeper within you until he’s hitting just the right spot with every curl of his fingers. He pulls away from your clit, blowing on it, loving how it makes you squirm. You’re so responsive you’re driving him insane. He can’t help when he parts his thighs and settles his crotch against your leg. He starts to hump your leg like a bitch in heat as he returns to sucking your clit. The sight alone is enough to make your eyes roll back. You can’t believe how pathetic he’s making himself without even trying. You wanna drag him by his hair and make him your bitch, keep him on his knees in your dorm for your own entertainment. He whimpers and whines pathetically against your clit as he ruts against you, matching the pace of his fingers. You reach down to pull his face closer against your clit, moaning his name softly as you feel him whine against you. If this is on tape you want a copy. You’d play it till it fell apart and became unwatchable. He nips at your inner thighs before returning his attention back where you need it most. He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean, before diving back in headfirst. He shoves his tongue inside of you, picking back up where he left off. He eats pussy like a man starved, lapping up every bit he can get, curling his tongue to find the spot you need most. With how his nose presses against your clit you can’t take much more, holding his hair as tight as you can as your hips buck against his face. You whimper his name, a string of curses leaving your lips as you come. He works you through it, pulling back to let you catch your breath. A smug smile adorns his face as he looks at you, fucked out and panting.

“Gotta clean you up…” He mumbles, leaning back in to clean the cum off your thighs. He continues humping your leg as he does, mumbling your name and whimpering every now and then. He’s so desperate for it that you can’t help yourself from helping him out, bouncing your leg in sync with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long before he’s a panting mess just like you. He’s made a mess of his briefs and he couldn’t care less. He rests his head on your knee, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Can we do this all the time? Not hooking up at work…but just like hooking up…and going on dates? Fuck…I really want you to be mine, I know if I don’t ask now someone else will try to swoop in and-”

You cut him off, “Yes Simon, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He beams up at you, lifting himself up to kiss you, cupping your face. You can taste yourself on his tongue but with how he’s kissing you it doesn’t matter. You pull him closer by his hair, it’s as if you’re trying to melt into his touch completely. You’re both putty beneath one another. When he pulls away he smiles at you with flushed cheeks.

Your eyes go wide in realization, “Simon.”

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding lovesick.

“We need to finish closing.”

“Oh shit!” He stands up and grabs your skirt off the floor and throws it at you. “Get dressed, I’m gonna finish cleaning the lobby, you count the money and I’ll recount it after!” He runs out of the office and back to where the two of you had been cleaning before. You laugh to yourself and redress, heading to the bathroom to wash your hands before going back and counting the money. Simon comes in and recounts when he’s done, before locking up the safe and heading to the break room to grab his things. You stand by the front doors, smiling to yourself as he jogs over, keys in hand. 

“I think we’re the best closers Eli has ever had!” He beams as he goes to set the alarm.

“Probably his only closers to fuck around in the office,” you scoff. 

Simon unlocks the door for you, opening it and letting you walk ahead of him to the next set of doors. He’s quick to relock the door before doing the same with the next set. “The other closers probably use the break room for that…or the bathrooms.”

“As hot as that was you’re never eating me out in the bathrooms, I’ve seen too much shit to ever let that happen in there.”

“Fair enough…” He walks you to your car, his arm around your waist. He presses you against the driver side door and kisses you for the last time that night. “On a night we’re both off I’ll take you on a real date, promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smile, leaning your head against his.

“You drive safe.”

“I will if you do,” you retort.

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from you, “I better see you alive and well for your next shift.”

“I’ll do my best, boss.” You slip into your car and lean your head against the headrest. You smile to yourself until you realize Simon still has your underwear. “Oh goddammit!”

[cherrysweets-world]

Eyes of the Gods Masterlist - Complete

Pairing - Caracalla x fem!Reader, Geta x fem!Reader, Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary - It takes only once for them to notice you. Nothing will be the same after you have caught the eyes of gods.

Warnings - minors dni, 18+, unedited, blood, background character death, gladiator fighting, dub-con, pining, obsessive affection, historical inaccuracies, mentions of past domestic violence + child abuse, induced vomiting, reader is intoxicated at certain points, threesome, possessive/obsessive/unhealthy relationships and behaviours, attempted murder, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage (not reader’s),more to be added

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Mood board

Helpful Info

. Caracalla does not have syphilis in this fic - his illness is more so caused by issues at birth

. Questions/asks I have been sent about this fic are tagged with- #eyes of the gods asks - in case you want to read more tidbits and other people’s thoughts

. Lotsss of mentions of pregnancy + breeding kink but we will not actually see the Reader pregnant/giving birth (apart from one-shots) for those who hate pregnancy trope

pictures from radio times article and google

I do not give permission for any of my works to be posted elsewhere

ao3 - cherrysweetswrites

[kabuki-writes]

A Reflection Of Venus

chapter: 1 chapter 2 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: For years Acacius was able to keep his precious and only daughter away from the Emperor's eyes. But after his latest victory, he couldn't evade the already inevitable.

warning(s): mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Reader is the daughter of General Acacius and his wife, which is not Lucilla in this fanfiction.

word count: 3.1k

General Acacius was a hero for the Roman Empire, a sun that was burning brighter with every new victory he won in a new war campaign ordered by Emperor Geta and his twin brother Emperor Caracalla. The reign of the twins was nothing compared to one of their deceased father Emperor Septimius Severus, who was once one of the closest friends and brother-in-arms of Acatius. While Severus fought wars mainly to protect the borders of the already massive Empire, his sons' hunger for expansion became clear from the very first day they inherited the title "Emperor". And general Acacius became their tool in this project. Nothing was too expensive, they backed him with legions, war-ships, the best equipment and supply, and the capable general became an unstoppable force, a soldier of the God Mars himself. But at what cost?

As the years went on, he'd rarely been home, always travelling with his marching soldiers and being on the front line of every battle he fought. And when he came back, he felt sick from all the pomp and gold the Emperor's threw at him, the victory processions through Rome, while the smell of blood still lingered in his nose and the cries of the women and children echoed in his mind. It was one of those days. The sun stood high over the wide street that lead to the Palatin, the sides filled with the cheering crowd - common people, soldiers, slaves, senators, merchants, they all celebrated his victory in a triumphant procession. His marching soldiers were led by Acacius chariot, clothed in the white armor of a victor. His face could've been one to be carved in marble, stoic and upright, facing the great Palatin, where the Emperors would await him.

Geta and Caracalla - the twin-sons of Septimius Severus, Emperors of Rome. They stoof there in golden Armor like sun gods with their golden crowns on top of their short gingerblonde hair. Their unusual pale skin was a testament to their wealth as they could afford to stay out of the sun, which burns especially hot on summer days like this one, and of course on the battlefields in Africa, where Acatius' men had to fight against the rebellious Nubians. They awaited their victor with proud smiles on their lips, while Acacius' procession ended at the footsteps of the Emperor's palace. He walked the marble steps towards them, his long cloak moved in tact with his walk. He didn't look forward to see the faces of Rome's tyrants again, but they hadno idea.

Instead, he greeted them as he was used to. His hand on his chest, speaking the words.

"I greet you, my Emperors. Nubia is no more. I present a new victory to you, to the realm and to the Roman people."

With a proud look on their faces and a wide smile, the twins stepped forward. Emperor Geta hold the laurel wreath of victory in his hands and places it on top of Acacius' greying hair.

"And Rome rewards it's heroes with gratitude and admiration. We bow to your victories, General Acacius."

With those words, he offered him to turn around and face the celebrating crowd. Geta and Caracalla took their places at his side, giving him a moment of spotlight, applauded by the people, while they did benefit from it as well. Acatius was their general, their armored knight. Every victory he presented was another triumph for their own reign and power. After the earned celebration in front of the common folk, the Emperors and Acacius retreated inside, where servants quickly served them wine for a toast.

"Another great victory, you never disappoint us, dear Acatius," Geta expressed and hold his glass up for a toast, his brother Caracalla following the gesture. "To the glory of the Roman Empire".

"To the glory of your reign", Acacius lied and took a sip from his glass, trying to numb himself a bit with the taste of the alcohol. How he hated conversations with both of them.

" But don't get too comfy here, my brother and i were already discussing another campaign soon. You'll get everything you need, just tell us how many soldiers and ships and it will be granted," Geta explained, which left a bitter taste in Acacius mouth. His jaw clenched for a moment, while he tried everything not to show his distaste about another war campaign.

"Please forgive me, my Emperor, but isn't the realm big enough already? Rome has already difficulties to feed the people. Further expansion would-"

"They can eat war", Emperor Caracalla threw in with an almost diabotical grin, while Acacius got a warning eye from Geta. It was clear that his words weren't the ones both wanted to hear right now.

"Don't worry about things like that, Acacius. You're a military general, your job is to win battles - nothing more. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he answered, even though he hated to hear that he was reduced to this. He'd experienced war and peace alike and therefore he knew about the dangers of continuing this madness. Moments like this really let him question if those maniacs were of the same blood as Septimius Severus.

"But you're right, you've earned yourself at least a bit of rest - one or two weeks. Don't worry, we've taken care about the wellbeing of your family. They got everything they needed and more in our attempt to show our gratitude for your service to the throne. Speaking of which.... we expect you to join us for a great feast tonight - here in the palace. A party to celebrate your victory, it is accompanied by a couple of fights in the arena tomorrow," Geta explained joyfully, while Acatius tried to keep his mask up.

"I am incredibly honored, but would prefer to spend time with family after being away for such a long time."

"The Emperors show you their gratitude and you're insulting us. We expect you to come and you will come", Caracalla hissed with a sudden shift of tone, his eyes staring at Acacius in clear anger, while his brother placed his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But his staring eyes were warning Acatius once again.

"Of course, we don't just invite you, but your whole family. Bring your wife and... you have a daughter, if i'm not mistaken? We haven't had the pleasure of getting to know her yet, since you never brought her to any festivities. I am sure she will be delighted, if you don't plan on hiding her again."

Acacius stood there in silence, a reaction that made Caracalla burst out into laughter as if he'd just heard the funniest joke from his brother. The respected general didn't even look at him, why should he. Standing here in front of them should've been an honor, yet it felt like a disgrace. They were nothing but spoiled kids with the power of an empire in their hands. And now they even forced him to reveal his dear daughter to them. Something he tried to avoid for too long, knowing fully well about the debauchery and excessiveness of Geta and Caracalla.

"We're waiting for an answer, Acacius?", Caracalla purred with a wide grin on his pale face, revealing his gold tooth.

"It will be an honor to be your guest... together with my daughter."

_____________________________________________

You watched the face of your father sunken away in his thoughts, as you made made your way to the palace in a palanquin carried by a couple of slaves and protected by soldiers. The city was painted in darkness which made the palace seem like a temple with all the lights that welcomed you. It was an exciting moment for an upper-class lady to be a guest at the palace, especially for you, a woman that usually stayed away from the most parties. Not because you wanted to, but because it was an order from your father. You obeyed, yet it bothered you, even more when you'd reached the age of a young woman - the age in which it was expected from you to find a proper husband.

"Why are you so worried, father?", you finally managed to get off your lips, pulling Acacius out of the battle he fought in his head. He couldn't just tell you that he despised all of this and especially the Emperors himself as he couldn't be sure if someone outside this palanquin could hear him. So he simply took your hand and placed a soft and caring kiss on the ring that had been a present for your last name day.

"I guess I'm rather tired than worried. The parties in the palace are always quite excessive, music, dances, feasts... i just came back from the desert and now i have to enjoy all those things", he sighed and looked at you. "And i don't want to stay too long, especially not till the orgy starts. The servants will come and bring us home before that." And even you knew he would rather go and murder Dyonisos himself than allowing his daughter to stay and witness this.

All those words and yet you knew it wasn't everything.

"I'm glad that you take me with you this time. I've only known the imperial palace from afar," you confessed, while you straightened the long, blue dress you wore. It was decorated with all sorts of silver embroidery and jewelry, encapturing the stars and moon. Your long hair was styled by your servant Yanna into a high braid and finalized with a silver diadem. For the first time you really got the chance to make yourself so presentable that you almost felt like a princess. In the end, you were about to meet the Emperors which made it important to look like the woman you were - the daughter of a general. And you also presented his household tonight, because your mother felt sick tonight. She often suffered from migraine, which kept her a prisoner for days sometimes.

"You really look beautiful", your father said to you, it was honest, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes, which you still couldn't grasp. But there was no chance to take this conversation further as the palanquin stopped. Acacius got out first to help you out. He knew the way as it wasn't the first time for him to attent an official ceremony or party here. Through a long corridor you reached a large room with with an open access to the garden terrace facing the beautiful gardens. It was packed with people from the Roman upper-class, wealthy merchants, politicians and military officers, who were accompanied by their wives, sons and daughters. While they chatted and feasted on the large selection of delicious looking food, a group of musicians played their melodies to which professional dancers moved their bodies.

All those private parties at the homes of your friends seemed to vanish straight from your mind, nothing could be compared to what you were seeing now. It nearly took your breath away, while two royals were watching you from the other side of the room.

_____________________________________________

Geta and Caracalla were sitting on a higher ground, which was highly decorated with two golden chaise longues, cushions and velvet drapes. They were accompanied by a selected group of slaves, women and men, who were assigned to bring them anything they wanted, to do anything they wanted.

While Geta was in in a conversation with one of the senators, which clearly bored him according to his facial expressions, it was Caracalla, who noticed the new guest first, while he fed his little monkey Dondus a grape.

"Such a shame that he hid his daughter for so long. She is a gorgeous looking bird, don't you think? ", he whispered to his brother with a mischievous grin, patting his arm so that he would turn his attention to Acacius and you. Geta's eyes quickly went to you, admiring the way your dress hugged the shape of your curves.

"The gods must've sent us Venus herself to honor us with her presence," Geta answered, while an unreadable smile played on his lips. „No wonder our dear General is so protective of her. Is she already promised to someone?“

„Why do you ask me!?“ Caracalla snapped back, as if his brother didn’t know that he had a lot of spies around the city, who delivered him the newest gossip from the streets of Rome. With an annoyed eye roll, he leaned forward, adjusting the golden laurel wreath on his head. „No, she is a blank parchment. Probably untouched too.“

Geta still watched you with an intense interest as if you were a rare diamond, he needed to claim. But he was not the only one in this room, because Caracalla stared at his brother, noticing the way he looked at you. There it was again, the old melody. Whenever he wanted something, Geta wanted it too. They already shared the title of Emperors, their wealth, their whores… It was already something that cooked in him for a long time. But now he had an eye on you and wasn't happy about the fact that Geta might try to get you too.

Before he could even bring this thought to an end, his twin brother Geta already stood up from his chaise lounge and made his way through the crowd, the direction was clear. Caracalla's nose twitched in a mixture of nervousness and anger, and he got up quickly as well, not as gracefully as he wanted to, but he didn’t care. He had to tame the inner urge to backstab his brother before he could even reach you.

_____________________________________________

You still stood at the side of your father sipping on your first goblet of fine wine, while your eyes went over all the different guests and the excessive decor. Your father was sunken in a conversation with another general, Marcus Galbanus, an old friend and brother-in-arms of Acacius. But their conversation quickly stopped as soon as the Emperors approached them. Both your father and Marcus Galbanus lowered their heads and greeted them according to the etiquette, while you curtsied deep. This was the very first time you got the chance to meet the Emperor's of Rome Caracalla and Geta. And given the importance of those two figures, you even felt a little nervous.

"We almost feared you wouldn't show up to your own party, Acacius. But we're happy you made your way here... we already heard that your dear wife lays sick. Please, send her our best wishes. Nonetheless we would be delighted if you could introduce us to your company tonight", Geta demanded in a playful tone, knowing how much Acacius had tried to delay this. Caracalla stood at his side, his staring blue eyes drilled themselves into your appearence. Even though he was a man that had tasted a lot of men and women, one even more sensual than the other, your whole appearence, your face, your lips, your smile, everything - you reached a sentience in his mind that could only be gifted by the gods. The mere thought of having you infected his brain like a curse.

You could sense the tension that raised in your father as if everything in him resisted the situation. Yet he placed his hand softly on your shoulder and did as they wished. "This is my daughter, y/n..."

"I'm honoured to meet the Emperors of Rome", you said in a soft voice, earning you an appreciating smile by Geta and an unreadable grin of Caracalla.

"Oh the pleasure is on our side, my dearest. How do you like this Ceremony in honor of your father's victories?", Geta asked. But before you could even answer, his brother added, while he took another sip of his wine "Your father is a Roman hero through and through, isn't it right Acacius?" His tone had something else in it, almost as if it was some kind of mistrust. But you needed to ignore the irritation you felt and simply nodded.

"It is breathtaking. I've never witnessed something like this and it makes me incredible proud to see the gratitute he earned himself through the love he has for Rome and its people," you answered, trying to remind the Emperor's of Acacius loyality, which was undoubtful.

"Then you'll enjoy the ceremony in the arena tomorrow as well, i'm sure. Please, we invite your father and you to be our guests."

"I don't think that such entertainment is suited for a young woman of her status," your father suddenly interfered in a calm yet set tone, only earning the laugh of Caracalla. "Let your daughter decide for herself, General."

The atmosphere shifted to an unspoken intensity. You could sense your father's worries and given all what you've heard from the colosseum, you didn't really think of it as something worth to witness. Seeing people die in such a terrible way only for the pleasures of the masses seemed like a farce. Acacius always called it the most needless form of brutality amongst humans, he despised this himself and therefore avoided going into the arena whenever he could. But you also read the eyes of Geta and his brother, who waited for your answer and would not accept a simple 'No'.

"It would be an honour," you answered, and Geta leaned forward a bit, which made your father's jaw clench in anger. Not because of your answer, he was aware that a choice was not existing, when facing an Emperor, but because the way the twins looked at you as if you were a price they could simply claim. But you were a smart girl and definitely not naive, so he fully relied on that.

"So this is a 'Yes'?", Geta asked again and you looked him straight in the eyes, not backing off. "Yes."

"Excellent!", Caracalla shouted and clapped into his hands. "We'll have a lot of fun tomorrow."

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched to a smile and he nodded in response to his twin. Yet he hid his displeasure of having him as a rival in this little game. It was clear that Caracalla had layed his eyes on you too, but he won't allow him to simply take and fuck you like you were a common whore. Maybe you could've potential for something more and strenghten his position as well as his popularity. Because both Emperors were still unmarried - and it was expected from them that this would change sooner or later.

[the-not-so-silent-back-up]

I guess the main difference between emperor Caracalla and emperor Geta fans is

Caracalla fans: I need to fuck this man senseless

Geta fans: I need this man to fuck me senseless

I know there are also a lot or people who like both but I think this is a difference between both of them.

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

As my emperor wishes

Summary: Emperor Geta and his brother Emperor Caracalla get into one of their usual arguments. Emperor Geta sends him a gift as an apology; you. Warnings: vaginal sex, kissing, bodily fluids, blood, creampie, mentions of killing, sex work, prostitution, drinking, oral sex(f receiving) emotional sex Emperor Caracalla x female!reader

Word count:3.7k

Non-canon events

Since the moment he was born, his younger brother, Geta would always push him down, get on his shoulders and collect all the power he could. For Geta, and for everybody ever, he was just a fool. A fool with a wicked smile and rich tastes that could be easily entertained and kept busy with other matters that did not involve any politicking. He did enjoy his time with his companions and wine and gold. But he could always feel the eyes of people on him. Those pitying eyes that saw him as an idiot and nothing more. It was always Geta who got to get everything in the first place. Best fabrics were shown to him, best armours were forged for him, most luscious whores sent to him, and he had the say in senate before him and after him.

He was so deep into this hellhole that he did not know how to get out of it anymore. His brother possessed all the power of Rome while he had to pretend to be busy with more foolish tasks. He took a sip of his wine as the cool wind of Rome brushed his burning skin and made him take a deep breath in. He was feeling the walls closing in on him and crush him in his chambers. He was wide awake in the night as their subjects were already deep in their peaceful sleep. As he was trying to bring his thoughts and mind together to find some tranquility from the voice in his head that kept him awake, the doors of his chambers were knocked. He sighed in annoyance and called out for person to come in. He wondered what stupid matter had occurred in the night so that they were bothering him.

His doors opened and he heard small pair of footsteps enter his bedchambers. Yet footsteps didn’t reach to the balcony that he was at. They stayed near the door and waited for him turn around. His aquamarine eyes looked back in wonder to see who it was. He was expecting one of the servants or guards that he had always seen in the place, yet it was young woman that he had never seen before. She was barely dressed in the soft looking, maroon-coloured fabrics that were wrapped around her body. Her hair was down, so different than the hairstyles that noble women of the Rome would wear, and he would see everyday. She did not have any jewellery or anything particularly that would show wealth and power. She was almost bare in front of his eyes.

“Your majesty.” You said with a soft voice that made him shiver in the chill of the night. “I’ve been sent to you as a gift, by your brother, the emperor Geta as a gratitude of your service to the state of Rome and your support to him.” You spoke out the learned sentences that were especially taught by your master. The smile on your lips made him part his lips and suck in another deep breath.

“Geta sent you?” He asked, echoing your words as he walked into his chambers and went to fill his emptied goblet with wine. You took courage from him not sending you out immediately and being calm, so you slowly started to approach him.

“Yes, your majesty.” He remembered their argument from hours ago where they both used hurtful words to one another. Geta knew him better than anyone so he was skilled in hurting him deep as he could. He knew his weaknesses and his soft spots. All his insecurities that he could not share with anyone, his secrets that he kept to himself and struggles that he could not get over. Geta was clever and he loved mocking him. So, it was not unusual for them to argue and Geta to send a gift as an apology after. He was gifted with whores many times. Pretty girls, pretty boys, common looking ones, exotic ones, well trained ones. Yet when you finally came near him, he looked at you carefully for the first time and he saw something he has never seen before, pure perfection. You looked at him with the gentlest smile he was ever seen, and your eyes were gentler than your smile if it was possible. He looked at your figure, your visible breast and curves that made his heart skip a beat.

“There is no other with you.” He said, realising that it was only you that Geta had sent. You nodded.

“Yes, your majesty. Emperor Geta chose me himself. Specially for you.” You said, your voice quiet, almost whispering as you got closer to him. You realised his knuckles around the goblet had turned white when there was only a step distance between two of you. His shoulder and arms looked tense.

“Why is that?” He raised an eyebrow with your words. Your smile widened when you took the goblet from his hand and took a sip of his wine. The little drop that escaped your lips trailed down your chin to your neck. His eyes followed the little, red drop. His mouth watered at the sight of your exposed neck.

“His majesty will be my first man, if he wishes it to be tonight.” You said when you offered him the goblet back. He took it and pressed his lips exactly on the spot you just drank from. The warmth of your lips was still lingering on the metal. He felt his manhood twitch under his nightgown.

“You never been with a man before?” He asked, almost not believing it. You nodded and saw his eyes shine with excitement and something you could not quite name. Something that look primal, animalistic that made him looked scary for a second. And for the first time since you entered his chambers, he brought his fingers up and touched you by softly caressing your arm with his fingertips. The touch was so light that you barely felt it. Yet he felt the coldness of your skin that was most likely affected by the chill of the night.

“I’m going to be your first.” He spoke to you or to himself, you did not know nor cared. He drank the last bit of wine and tossed the goblet somewhere you could not see. Then took your hand and led you to the enormous bed that was in the middle of the room. The sheets were not tidy, made you think that he had tried to sleep yet failed before you came to his chambers. You wondered what kept him awake. He sat down and looked up to you, his eyes looking shiny under the moonlight. He almost looked innocent.

“How does my emperor want it to be tonight? This servant of his majesty learned everything there is to know.” He bit his bottom lip when you finished talking and waited for his commands. Did he wanted to toss you around and just use you like a hole? Did he wanted to care only about his own satisfaction and listen to your false noises and praises for the whole night? He looked up to you again. The way you looked so beautiful and ethereal while you were looking down at him. Your eyelashes framing your enchanting eyes that were full of softness, your lips curled upwards and looking so kissable. He found it strange that he wanted to kiss you. He had never desired to kiss any of the whores he spent his nights with.

“I wish to-“he stoped and took another deep breath. You gently cupped his cheek and saw his eyelashes shake as you touched him. Your hands felt cooling and comforting on his skin that was on fire.

“I want to make love.” He said and a sigh of relief left his trembling lips. He did not remember the last time he looked so vulnerable in front of someone. He had always tried to smile without any care, pretend to not hear his brother’s cruel words, fuck his way into banquets and brothels, drink his days away.

“As my emperor wishes.” You said and the wrapped fabrics on your shoulders dropped to your feet with one swift move of your fingers. His shining eyes found your breasts, your belly, your loins and lastly your eyes again. He looked like a hungry lion, and you were his meal. The thought made you tingly between your legs. His uniquely pale cheeks were flushed red, and his breaths were quick, raggedy. You wondered if it was you who made him like this or his won infamous ‘madness’?

“Beautiful…” he whispered, his voice coming like a scared child, a broken man. His fingers found your hips and he brought your figure closer to him. His head, his mouth was right next to your womanhood, his warm breath hitting your pubic bone. You felt the force on your knees failing you, yet you managed to stand still. He opened his mouth hesitantly and his pink, shiny tongue touched your skin. The warmth of his mouth made you breathe out in shock. His tongue danced on your pubic bone and went down to your lips. His mouth covered your pussy, his tongue parting your folds and finding your clitoris. The tip of his tongue was playing with you cruelly as his hands were tight and rough on your hips. You cried out, begging him to show you mercy. And all you got back from him was a chuckle that sounded teasing and mocking.

He moaned into your folds when your fingers found his ginger-blonde hair and pushed his head closer to your little heaven. His nose and mouth were almost buried into you, and you wondered if he was out of breath between your legs. He slowly turned his attention to your already leaking hole from your clitoris that was swollen and throbbing. He dipped his tongue into you, collecting all your juices as his nose was stimulating your clitoris. The taste made his dick twitch and pulse painfully. You saw his seed leaking out of his red, tumescent cock that was rock hard.

“Mercy, your majesty, mercy!” You moaned out as he was still eating you like a man starved. He brought his face away and you saw your juices covering half of his face. His eyes were dropped, and he was breathing fast when he looked up to you again. You saw his eyelashes wet from his teary eyes. You did not want to wait any longer. You were so sure that it was going to be about his pleasure tonight when you were sent to him yet the moment he laid his eyes on you, you wanted him to touch you in places no one has ever did before. Your lips finally met for the first time tonight when you positioned yourself on his lap, in his arms.

His mouth captured yourself immediately, his tongue entering trough your lips and finding your own tongue without wasting any second. You tasted yourself on his tongue when he was whimpering and pushing his crotch up to you desperately. Your wetness coated his cock as he was grinding against your folds, moaning into your mouth. His hand grabbed one of your breasts and his burning fingertips played harshly with your nipple, twisting it, pinching it. The closeness made you dizzy, and you felt all the thoughts on your mind disappear in moments. It did not matter that it was an emperor that you were kissing in this moment. You were woman and man, aching, thirsty for one another. You were in your most human form, and no one could ruin this for you.

His lips traced down to your neck when his fingertips found your leaking, clenching hole that was trying to take something in. He started to suck and lick on the sensitive skin of your exposed neck as his fingers were playing with your entrance. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, nails scratching his back as he slowly entered one finger into you. You heard him hiss into your skin when your walls clenched around his single finger. The feeling was immense. You have tried it yourself before, yet your fingers were nothing compared his single digit that made you breath deep and quick.

“Your majesty!” You cried out when his finger started to pump in and out of you. His motion stopped immediately when the words left your mouth. With that you froze in fear. He looked up to your eyes, your eyes that were teary just like his own, looking at him with hunger and impatience.

“My name is Antoninus.” He whispered to you when he broke the eye contact and pressed his head against yours. You gasped when you felt his tears rolling down his cheeks and drop down to your collarbone. Your body was pressed right against him, feeling his shaky, trembling hands on your hips, feeling his hard cock against your entrance, and hearing him sniff. He was crying like a little boy in your arms. Was he always crying when no one was looking? You wondered. Yet you kept your questions to yourself and cupped his cheek to make him look at you. He looked so human with tears in his eyes, rolling down his face, his raggedy breaths leaving his mouth rapidly and his lips glistening with your shared spit. You smiled softly when your own tears started to spill, because of the tingly, burning sensation in your belly or because of the heaviness in your heart, you did not know.

“I look at you, and I see you.” You whispered, almost afraid of the ears of walls and ground of the palace as you took the head of his cock into you slowly. His eyes widened and he threw his head back with a sob. With that his back was welcomed by the mattress of his bed. In this new position, you took him deeper and deeper into you, almost sending both of you over the edge. And when he was fully seated into you, your toes curled with the stingy, painful yet addictive sensation that was building a pressure in your lower belly. Your spine arched like a cat when his hands found your hips again. He grabbed your folds softly yet still reminding you of his strength and lust.

You waited for a moment to let yourself adjust to his length as he was caressing your skin from your hips to your stomach to your breasts. His fingers collected the small sweat drops between your breasts that escaped the wind of the Roman night that was blasting into his chambers. He looked up to you like you were a goddess. In this moment, with his cock in your wet, tight hole, hair down over your shoulders, nipples hard and hips quivering, looking down at him with those eyes that made his heart skip a beat, you were a true image of Venus.

“By Jupiter!” His voice echoed in his chambers when you started to move, up and down on his cock. He held onto your waist like you were the last thing in the world. Your walls were stretching out to make a room for him in you, making you a crying, moaning mess on him. Your hair bounced on your back as you quickened your pace, the noises of skin slapping on skin filled your ears and the sounds of your wet hole squelching around his throbbing member made you blush. You felt him thrust his hips upwards, trying to not have any moment of his cock out of your heaven and the thought of him being so eager for you made you smile in bliss.

You could feel his balls slapping the skin of your hips as he held you by your waist and made you stop to only continue himself by snapping his hips upwards to your loins with an immense speed that made your eyes roll back into your head. Your clit was burning from the friction of his thick, light brown hair. He looked down at your joined parts and saw the small amount of blood simmering both on your and his skin. He pulled his hips back, ignoring your cries of displeasure for a moment to look at his glistening cock that was covered in your blood, juices, his seed and sweat. The view made his stomach tighten in ecstasy. He collected some of the spent that dripped down to base of cock with his fingertips and brought them to his mouth. Then his tongue licked his fingers clean as he looked deep into your eyes and dived his cock back into you. The scene that took place in front of your eyes was your last kick before your legs shook, noises you never heard from yourself left your mouth and your walls tightened around him painfully. He moaned with you and followed you not long after.

You pushed yourself down as he pushed himself up in the heat of the moment. Your skin and bones crushed into one another, and finally you felt his seed shoot right into you. The warmth and the heaviness of his spent made you clench more and more with the urge to milk him. He threw his head back to catch his breath. You were panting like a dog on top of him, walls still tight around his softening cock that kept twitching in you.

“Come here.” He said with a stupid smile on his face and grabbed your arm to pull you down to him. He planted a long kiss onto your lips as his hands started to caress your back with affection that you would never expect from him. You heard him sigh when you felt the cold breeze on your sweat covered back that his fingers were drawing invisible shapes on.

“It never felt like this before.” He whispered, looking up to the ceiling. You looked up to him, seeing him swallow down few times before he looked back at you. There it was again. That innocent boy. It was like he had two different people in the same body. The one that you had your arms wrapped around and the one that had lips wrapped around his cock as he watched people mutilate one another.

“Rome is ours, palace is ours, throne is ours, crown is ours, power is his, and yet you’re mine.” He turned to you and said, tears filling his eyes again. You blinked few times, not knowing what to say. You could feel his spent drip out of you as he was still in you.

“Sometimes I wish that he never existed.” His voice sounded guilty for feeling that way. They were brothers. They had shared a womb together and came to this world together. Geta was the first alive being he knew. They played together as children, trained with swords together, ran off to a brothel in the middle of the night for the first time together. He remembered the times Geta would take the blame for the things he did even tho he was the younger. Geta had always been braver than him. Smarter in some sense. He did not trust anyone but him. Yet Geta was cruel. Not just to others but to him as well. He wished to go back to times when they loved one another without any doubt.

“I wish he was dead.” He whispered not caring if you head or not. Then rolled over to the side of the bed to and closed his eyes. You looked at his naked back, the scars that were work of your nails were red and looked like they were going to stay there for few more days. His breaths were calm and steady, reassuring you that he was falling asleep.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered when he felt you move beside him. The words made you smile, and you went to kiss his cheek. After a moment of silence, he was defeated by his sleep again. You left the bed quietly and walked to the small table to grab a goblet of wine. After looking at this sleeping naked form for the last time, you sat down at the balcony with your wine.

The night was calm and cold. The sounds of birds that were waking up slowly filled your ears as you drank your wine. You could still feel his hands on you. His seed was dripping down your leg and your hips were burning from the marks he left on your skin. The small, enslaving soreness between your legs sent shivers down your spine, making you shake as the cool wind made its way trough your damp hair. You remembered your conversation with the man who sent you to these chambers earlier in the day.

“The moment you get a chance, slit his throat. With a knife in his room or a piece of glass. Anything.”

Macrinus’s words echoed in your ears. He wanted to get rid of the emperors and it did not matter which one was first to go. Would Caracalla get suspicious of his brother sending him a pretty, untouched girl as an apology? He did not even give a second thought to it. But did you want to do it? Did you want to slit his throat in his sleep when he fell asleep with the euphoria from your cunt? He liked you, it was obvious and if you moved smartly, you could be more than just a one-night whore. Would you be something after killing him and staying loyal to Macrinus that basically bought your master because of his debts? Would you be safe? Would you be respected? Would you be loved and needed?

Yet the man who became your first tonight needed someone to save him. Someone to save him from his brother. You got up and left his chambers like the serpent under the flower.

Next week, Geta was murdered in his chambers after an encounter with a whore. The same whore that you saved from getting beaten up for stealing bread from the imperial kitchens, the one that owed you her life. The one that you saw after leaving your emperor’s chambers and the one that cried and fought against killing emperor Geta. The one that cried of fear for the whole night as you returned to his chambers and slid into his arms.

“Don’t ever leave again.” Caracalla said with a sleepy voice as he buried his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent.

“As my emperor wishes.” You said, remembering the girls frighten face from minutes ago and wrapped your arms around his relaxed shoulders.

[ekkkkey]

vestal (chapter III)

in which we learn that Caracalla really, really loves to pray. And Geta? Geta is furious…

summary: Livia, a young Vestal Virgin, is bound to Vesta's eternal flame and the vow of sacred duty. In Rome, it's common knowledge; touch a Vestal, and the wrath of the gods will descend upon you. But what if someone dares to defy that rule?

chapter I chapter II

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dub-con, non-con

tags: darkfic, sibling rivalry, no softboys here, religious guilt, mommy issues, caracalla when i catch you!

word count: ~4k

•••

The Great Maiden, like the other Vestals, lived in the House of the Vestals, so it was easy enough to find her.

After listening carefully to Livia’s hurried account and reading Claudia’s letter, the High Priestess was silent for a moment. Then, her pale lips parted, and she gestured to a marble bench, inviting Livia to sit.

"Sit, child."

She herself remained standing, her gaze fixed somewhere ahead. Despite her efforts to appear welcoming, there was a barely concealed tension in her posture and unease in her eyes. Still, Livia obeyed, sitting down with her hands folded in her lap, studying the older woman, trying to understand what troubled her.

"I’m sorry to come asking for this, but my heart won’t rest when my sister sends me such alarming messages. I have to see her…"

The priestess’s sharp eyes fixed on her. "Does she have no one else?"

Livia sighed. "Alas, no. Our mother has been gone for years, our father only just passed, and…" She swallowed hard, forcing back the lump rising in her throat. "…and our older sister, too. Claudia has a husband, but she’s carrying a child, alone in a foreign house… If I don’t go to her, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t lose another sister."

Whether it was Livia’s words or the sorrow on her face, something in the senior priestess softened. Her voice was quieter when she spoke.

"Very well. Go see your sister. But don’t linger too long, and…” She hesitated, frowning, before continuing, “remember—your place is here, in the temple of our goddess and protector."

"Thank you," Livia said, relief and gratitude flooding her. In a sudden rush of emotion, she bent down and pressed a kiss to the back of the Great Maiden’s hand before hurrying out. But just as she passed through the doorway, she caught the woman’s gaze following her—heavy, somber, devoid of any joy.

And just like that, her own joy vanished.

Dark thoughts crept back in, pressing in around her like shadows. The secret she hadn’t told, the truth she hadn’t shared with her sisters. Once, they had shared everything—joy and sorrow alike—but now… Now, guilt took root in her chest, and the weight of unspoken words threatened to suffocate her.

Her sisters didn’t know.

And it was his fault.

Emperor Caracalla had shattered her quiet, ordered world with nothing but his presence. He had brought with him chaos, lies, and… thoughts that had no place in the mind of a Vestal.

But the goddess knew.

Nothing could be hidden from her. And that made it all the more unbearable.

She had tried to tell Caesonia—truly, she had—but the words got stuck in her throat the moment the other priestess started talking, her eyes sparkling with excitement about Emperor Geta. Oh, how her sister admired him! She’d praised him, laughed, made silly jokes, and seemed so thrilled that they’d be attending the games again soon.

And how could Livia ruin that? How could she say that the father of Rome had stormed into the sacred temple, had whispered things to her that no young girl should ever hear? That he had touched her, behaved with brazen arrogance, nothing like the divine being so many believed him to be?

How could she describe the filth of it? The wrongness? The things that no Vestal should ever even think about?

Sin.

She longed to bathe, to cleanse herself, as if Caracalla had truly touched her, squeezed her throat, and kept purring in her ear.

A shudder ran through her, and she bit down hard on her lip, desperate to chase away the smiling image of the emperor from her mind.

She had no time for this.

She needed to think of Claudia. She needed to focus on her sister. Not waste another moment on impure thoughts.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

As soon as the chariot began rolling through the streets of Rome, a fresh wave of panic washed over her. Livia tugged the curtains tighter, not wanting anyone to see her. This visit had to be swift and discreet—there was no reason for the people of Rome to know that a Vestal Virgin was paying a visit to the emperors’ palace.

She had no interest in the outside world—she didn’t care to see how the capital lived, neither the lavish homes of the patricians nor the cramped, crumbling dwellings of the plebeians. And yet, when the chariot slowed, she couldn’t help but peek through the slightly parted curtain. What she saw made her gasp.

The emperors’ palace, a gleaming fortress of white marble, was overwhelming in its grandeur. Even approaching from the less prominent side, away from the central square, there was still plenty to marvel at.

She was expected. As soon as she stepped inside, she was escorted directly to her sister. To Livia’s surprise, they led her to a garden, where amidst fragrant flowers, elegant marble statues, and the quiet singing of birds, Claudia waited for her in a shaded gazebo.

The young woman lounged in a garden chair, looking bored. Her legs were stretched out on a low stool, one hand absently stroking her rounded belly. But the moment she saw Livia, her expression lit up with genuine joy.

Livia lifted the sheer, pale-blue veil from her face. Beside Claudia, a dark-skinned slave girl sat at her feet. At the sight of Livia, the girl’s eyes widened—not just in surprise, but in something else. Fear? Doubt? Did she find it strange that a Vestal Virgin had come to see her mistress? Or… had she seen Livia before? Livia didn’t know, and she had no desire to dwell on it. With a simple nod, Claudia dismissed the servants, leaving them alone.

"Livia, sister, I’m so happy you’re here," Claudia said, reaching out with both hands.

Livia covered them with her own, squeezing gently. “How are you feeling?” she asked, searching her sister’s face for answers.

"Oh, this…" Claudia’s expression faltered, her eyes darting nervously. She didn’t look sick. "Forgive me for the little deception, Livia. I—" She hesitated. "You must forgive me. I just wanted to see you so badly, and I couldn’t think of any other way to distract you from your prayers!"

Livia stiffened. Anger flared through her body, and she pulled away, her movement sharper than intended.

"Do you realize," she said, her voice rougher than before, "that because of your 'little' deception, I’m in a difficult position? I have duties. What am I supposed to tell the High Priestess? That my sister is a liar?"

"You don’t need to explain anything," Claudia said smoothly. "Just tell them I’m feeling better, and that’s all. Is it really such a crime to visit your pregnant sister? Do you truly believe Vesta would be angered by that?"

But Livia remained resolute, crossing her arms and taking a step back.

"Lies—those are the real sin,” she said, eager to return to the temple immediately. “Answer me, Claudia—why did you really come up with this story?"

Her sister straightened, lowering her feet to the ground, placing a protective hand over her belly. Her gaze turned distant, uneasy. Her lips parted, but she hesitated, avoiding Livia’s eyes. She was hiding something. And Livia didn’t like it.

"I was asked to…" Claudia finally murmured.

"By who?" Livia’s voice came out hoarse. She already knew the answer.

"The emperor…" Claudia admitted softly.

Livia didn’t wait to hear more. She pulled the veil back over her face, turned on her heel, and strode toward the exit. Away from the garden. Away from the palace. Back to the temple, where her sisters—though not by blood—would never lie to her.

"Wait!"

A sister’s hand, hot and desperate, grabbed her wrist.

"I had no choice, Livia, please!" Claudia’s voice broke into a sob. "Appius is always at the Senate, and when he’s not there, he’s off carousing with the emperors. I’m alone all the time! I really did want to see you, and when Emperor Geta told me—"

"He ordered you to do this?" Livia yanked her hand free. Through the thin veil, she regarded her sister’s small, trembling figure, unwilling to show her own face. Or her emotions. The resentment in her chest tightened like a knot.

"No, but… You know the gods’ power lies in the hands of the emperors. Who am I to refuse a request?"

"You’re my sister," Livia said sharply, turning to leave again.

"Livia…" Claudia’s voice cracked.

She clutched her belly, breathing heavily, and sank back into her chair.

Livia’s heart softened, and she hurried to sit in front of her sister, inspecting her, stroking her dark hair gently.

"Don’t upset yourself, please. I forgive you," Livia said softly, fixing her sister with a steady gaze, brushing the damp curls from her forehead… and then she froze.

Claudia had always been frail. Both Cassandra and Livia had been strong, healthy—tall, just like their father, and eerily similar since childhood. But Claudia had always been different, with her dark hair and blue eyes, she took after their mother with her frailty and shorter stature.

And now, looking at her, Livia realized: Claudia truly was ill.

Her gaze drifted lower. Without touching her, she traced a faint red mark on her sister’s skin. Then another. One near her collarbone, half-hidden beneath the fabric of her deep burgundy tunic.

"What is this?" Livia breathed.

Claudia hurriedly shifted her long hair over her chest, hiding the marks.

"Nothing…"

A lie. Livia saw it in her eyes. She wanted to press her, to demand the truth—but they were interrupted.

A palace guard had arrived. The emperor was summoning her. And she couldn’t refuse.

Casting one last, sorrowful glance at her sister—now curled up in her chair, her face unreadable—Livia rose and followed the guard into the palace.

ৡ ৡ ৡ

This time, she doesn’t stop to admire the gold or marble. The sculptures and frescoes fade into the background. All she can think about is her sister—those marks. She’s seen them before… she’s almost certain.

"Wait here, priestess. Emperor Geta will join you shortly," the guard tells her before leaving her alone in the vast, empty throne room.

Livia clasps her hands together, her gaze drifting over the towering arches and columns. She doesn’t like it here—it’s too ostentatious, too… too dangerous. The sheer size of the space makes her uneasy; she longs to return to her small, familiar room in the House of the Vestals. She avoids looking at the intricately carved thrones at the center of the hall, but a bas-relief above a small, almost hidden door tucked behind the columns catches her eye.

She’s heard the story countless times—first as a child in her parents’ home, then later from the High Priestess, who taught her about the sisterhood. Carved into the white stone is a she-wolf nursing two infants. Twin brothers. Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, who…

"Their mother was a Vestal, wasn’t she?" a quiet, sudden voice makes her flinch.

Caracalla is standing close—too close—as if he’d been there all along. Livia wills her racing heart to calm, determined not to let him revel in her fear. Thankfully, her face remains hidden behind the veil.

"Yes, my Caesar," she replies politely, bowing her head. "She bore them from a god."

"What could be more honorable, hmm? Mars, the god of war, blessed her womb with great sons," he stood in profile, his eyes locked on the relief, but she could see his lips stretch into a smile.

"And couldn’t protect her when she needed it," she retorts, bristling.

"So now we’re judging the gods, are we?" He turned to her, and she swallowed, her gaze dropping, cursing her own foolishness.

"No, we are merely humble servants, Emperor," she replied softly, and Caracalla smiled again.

The faint clink of golden bracelets fills the air as he gestures toward another wall. Livia’s gaze locks onto his pale, well-kept hand. This time, there are no rings—instead, his thin fingers are coated in gold up to the middle knuckle. She’s seen priests do this, though they used sacrificial blood… She could easily imagine blood in place of gold.

"Another one of your sisters," he giggled, eyeing Livia with interest, still smiling with slightly parted lips, like a mischievous child.

Livia presses her lips tighter. The young emperor is testing her, teasing her. She glances at the other bas-relief. Tarpeia, the traitor who betrayed her city, is depicted with a look of terror, buried under heavy shields, one hand reaching desperately toward the sky.

"The claim that she was a Vestal is a myth," Livia replied curtly.

"But the rumors exist, don’t they?" he said lightly. "Of course, not something a Vestal would take pride in. But you’re different, aren’t you? Faithful to your calling."

This time, his eyes met hers directly—so piercing, so heavy, it felt as though the veil between them didn’t exist at all. As if she stood before him bare.

"I am faithful to my vows, Emperor."

«How many times do I have to say it before you stop looking at me like that?» she thinks, clenching her fists. He immediately notices her tension, his eyes flicking downward. He seems relaxed, unserious, smug even—but Caracalla is watching her closely. He is attentive.

Dressed in sapphire blue, his eyes are even more striking—dark, tempestuous, mirroring the hue of his tunic. His hair is a wild tangle of curls, untamed by a golden laurel, and his cheeks burn with a feverish glow, just beneath a delicate layer of powder. Livia’s gaze snags on the tiny, nearly healed marks on his cheekbones, and her mind flashes back to Claudia. Could it…?

"I’m here to visit my father," Caracalla says with a nod, as if the strange tension between them never existed.

Only now did she realize that the small door led to the altar.

"You praying?" she asked, genuinely surprised. In her mind, Caracalla was a god unto himself.

"Praying?" he echoed, a sly twist in his voice. It was hard to tell whether he was answering or posing the question back at her, daring her to guess. Livia stayed silent.

"You can join me. My father may not have been a devout man or given your temple the attention it deserves," he says, his eyes swept down her body and back up again, "but a Vestal priestess might brighten his afterlife."

She hesitates for only a heartbeat before following him. She has no choice.

Alone with the emperor in the small, dimly lit room, Livia freezes against the wall, waiting for him to speak. But he doesn’t.

He stares at the gilded altar, a smile playing on his lips—not a sad one, but rather sardonic, cruel even. As if he’s pleased his father is dead, his bones buried beneath, while Caracalla stands here, alive, the emperor…

"Five years to the day since he died," his hoarse, quiet voice cuts through the silence.

"I’m sorry," Livia replies. "My father’s gone too. I understand…"

"Do you?" His high, hysterical laugh jolted her, and she stepped back toward the exit, warily watching the flushed cheekbones, the dilated pupils, the heavy rise and fall of his chest beneath the blue toga. "Were you glad when your father died too?"

And then it hits her. He hated the old emperor.

Oh, how foolish she had been, believing he could ever love anyone.

She recalls the day the emperor passed. Whispers had spread, suggesting he’d been murdered… Could one of his sons have been responsible? Unease settles in her chest as she wraps her arms around herself.

Caracalla, as if reading her thoughts, turned toward her, narrowed his eyes, and then approached so closely that she could smell the scent of aromatic oils. His hand rose, and she recoiled, fearing he might touch her. But no, his fingers merely grazed the veil, pushing it back to reveal her pale face.

For a moment, they were silent. She seemed to stop breathing altogether while the emperor studied her face with surprising seriousness and focus. They were the same height, and Caracalla was only slightly older than her, but for some reason, Livia felt like a child, a little girl. It was frightening.

"Your sister was here," he says, running his tongue over his lips, his breathing quickening again.

"Claudia?" she whispers, almost without thinking.

"Who?" He laughs. "No, your other sister."

"Cassandra?"

The name of her sister causes the emperor’s pupils to dilate even further, the blackness swallowing the blue of his irises. The shifting torchlight casts shadows across his face, transforming it into something tragic, unsettling. He stepped back from her, turning once again to the altar, standing next to his father’s bust.

Now Livia saw two profiles—one marble, one alive, human.

Yet the living emperor, standing still, was no different from the statue. Pale, youthful, beautiful, he surpassed even the finest work of the sculptor who had carved his father.

"Yes," he replied. "Little bird often brightened my days when she lived here. Sweet, gentle, obedient…"

His voice dips into a purr, and Livia’s brow furrows. Little bird. He’d called her that too.

"You’re nothing like her, though your face is hers exactly."

She felt a wave of disgust ripple through her at the tone he used when speaking of her dead sister—as if a single tender purr could tarnish Cassandra’s memory.

Livia silently turned away, unwilling to speak to him any longer. She needed to meet with the other emperor and leave the palace.

But as she took a step toward the exit, his hand roughly grabbed her wrist, and he slammed her against the wall, chest-first.

Stunned, it took her a moment to register what had just happened.

He had grabbed her!

Touched her not playfully, but brazenly, shamelessly! As if she were… Her!? Livia gasped, her cheek flat against the cold wall, his hot body pressing into her from behind, grip squeezing her wrist to pain.

"Let go! This is sacrilege!" she whispered, trying not to sound too frantic.

"I touched you—grabbed you like some common kitchen wench," he whispers in her ear, inhaling the scent of her hair, his nose burying into her neck.

"And look—my hands are still here. Your goddess hasn’t cursed me. Who’s going to punish me, huh? You? Come on then. Fight back. Hit me. Here I am, touching you again and again, right on my father’s grave! So what are you going to do to me, priestess?"

His other hand settles on her neck, brushing her hair aside. She couldn’t move.

Not wanting to anger him further, Livia freezes.

So does he.

"Emperor Antoninus, please," a desperate whisper escapes her dry lips.

His breath on her neck quickens, grows hotter.

His name stirs something in him—his grip on her wrist even loosens slightly.

"Say it again," he commands.

"Please…"

"Not that! My name!"

"Antoninus…" Her voice trembles, and he presses into her hips harder, letting out a quiet moan.

"My mother used to call me that," he whispers, finally releasing her wrist.

Livia can’t bear it any longer.

While he’s distracted, relaxed, she spins around, shoving him hard in the chest—consequences be damned. Her nails rake across the back of his hand as she rushes away, her heart pounding, dreading he’ll follow.

But he doesn’t.

Only his laughter echoes behind her.

"Fly, little bird—we’ll meet again!"

ৡ ৡ ৡ

She rushed to leave the throne room, desperate to escape the palace, but as she reached the exit, she collided with Emperor Geta. His face froze at the sight of her, his eyes scanning her disheveled appearance with a stunned disbelief.

Only then did Livia realize how she must look. Her gaze was wild, her hair a tangled mess, her veil crumpled, and her wrists were marked with blossoming bruises, streaked with traces of gold paint left by Emperor Caracalla. Geta noticed all of it. He pressed his lips into a thin line but didn’t comment on it, speaking as though everything were perfectly ordinary.

"Apologies for the wait, priestess" he says politely, inclining his head. Unlike his brother, his hair is neat, crowned with a golden laurel, as it should be. He’s dressed in night-black robes—impeccable, composed, focused. Yet, Livia can’t help but notice the red blotches seeping through the layer of powder. He’s furious. His dark eyes bore into her as if she’s betrayed him.

"Why am I here?" she said hastily, still fearing that Caracalla might appear behind her.

"I told you—I enjoy your company, I want to see you more often," Geta replied softly, licking his lips.

Her mind immediately flashed back to his brother’s words: "Geta wants you." A wave of nausea hit her.

"We agreed to meet at the games."

"Yes, I remember," his black eyes remained fixed on her wrists, and she suddenly wanted to strike him. How dare he!? He knew exactly what his brother had done! He knew it was Caracalla—he knew, and yet he remained silent, endured it! If he likes her so much, why is he tolerating this? Coward.

"I wish to see you. Without the High Priestess and your sisters. Just you. There will be a feast tonight. I want you to be there."

Livia blinked, stunned. What did he think she was?

"That’s insulting," she spat.

"It’s an honor," he replied sharply, his voice growing colder. "Didn’t your sisters in the past attend feasts, gatherings? Watching gladiators spill blood on the arena floor is acceptable, but spending an evening with Rome’s noble citizens is condemned? There will be poetry readings, singers, harpists. You’ll spend your time as you see fit. If you think of anything improper, that’s not my fault…" He smirked, brazenly tilting his chin, reminding her once again of Caracalla.

Anger overwhelmed her completely. Oh, so he wanted to show her off to his friends like some precious trinket? To brag?

Livia bit the inside of her cheek as hard as she could, forced a fake smile, and nodded.

"One evening, Emperor. And then you’ll leave me be."

Geta mirrored her smile, his curious gaze lingering on her face, before replying, obviously lying:

"Of course, Amata."

[medievalharlot]

A gift for the princess 彡 Geta x princess f!reader x Caracalla

Pairing: Geta x princess f!reader x Caracalla

Synopsis: The empire comes to your aid and you are reunited with your childhood friends, they end up having a gift you cannot turn down

Wordcount: 3,1k

Request: ‘I’ve been thinking of this plot for a while, but I’m not a writer and could never write it myself. But what if both of the twins x reader, who was their childhood best friend, she came from a very wealthy family (for some reason I like to think she was royalty in a neighboring country or smth, anyway, she was forced to move away, and the twins and here were devestated (cause they like LIKED each other) years go by, and they are now emperors, they have to go to a place for business, with other royals (like where the reader lives) and they meet again, and like, fall in loveeee’ by anon

Tags: Childhood friends to lovers, reader is a princess, some light groping but no full on smut, period accurate misogyny, implied violence, implied abuse.

A/N: Phew this one is a little longer than I intended it to be. Maybe a little less historically accurate than my last one but I tried sticking to historical facts. I always thought of Caracalla as a shy child that turned mad and Geta being the brave one. This will be the last full on fic I post before I go to Paris, enjoy!

It would be a short seige, your castle walls were never strong enough to withstand the Parthian army. Yet your father, having spiraled into madness, insisted to keep fighting. For years your small kingdom had been an ally to the empire. Even if it was small, it had a strategic and important port. Under Marcus Aurelius it had it added to the list of allies and it had been loyal up. Your father suddenly decided to start a war against Parthia. Voices plagued his mind, advisors gone corrupt filled his mind with delusions. You had been supportive of your father, trying to see the good in his actions as a way to cope. Giving up on the man that had raised you felt like betrayel. Your mother was a noble lady and after giving birth to you ander your brother she moved back to her own home. Their marriage was arranged and quite an unpleasant one. You were his only daughter, his sweet delight. Your brother was aiding the empire in the conquest of Numidia by order of the emperor, leaving you to watch over your father. Every day he slipped further into madness, and everyday it became more painful to watch.

At a certain point his advisors convinced him to go to war. Once you got wind of the idea you had the advisors sent away, unleashing your fury upon him. But your father had already sent out the command. You had prayed to Pax, Fortuna and Minerva for the war to end well and for the Romans to send aid. Emperor Severus had been a good friend to your father. You weren’t aware that he had passed and his sons, Geta and Caracalla, were terrorizing the empire. News travelled slow in the empire and before you knew it there was an entire army knocking on your door with no aid in sight. You had witnissed the Pathian generals slaughter the people on the outskirts of the city being killed. Their screams haunting your mind as you hid.

Once, you knew the twins. It was a long time ago, before your father had become king. He took you and your brother to Rome quite often, in hindsight you understood it was probably to find a suitable match amongst the sons of the senators. Due to the friendship your father and the emperor shared you were often on the Forum. You remember meeting the twins for the first time.

Caracalla was a shy boy, hiding behind his brother. Geta was a bit cocky but curious about you. They were a few years older than you were. You were clinging to your fathers toga, you never played with boys. At home you were either being taught by master or you were playing with the daughters of your fathers advisors. Boys sucked. And yet here you were, alone with these boys in a room.

“Do you wanna play soldiers?” Geta had asked eventually. “You can be the helpless girl and we-” He had shoved his brother from behind him. “We will save you.” There was a proud smirk on his face.

Soldiers? Why would you want to play that, why would you be the helpless girl. “I don’t want to play that.” You reached for the wooden sword. Geta tried to grasp for it.

“You can’t play with that, that isn’t for girls.” He sneered as you pulled away. Caracalla still hadn’t spoken a word.

“Stop it!” You frowned, you weren’t one to let somebody to tell you what to do.

Soon, chaos ensued. Somehow you ended up in a brawl with him, and to your surprise you were winning. All that commotion had alarmed the servants, who had fetched your fathers. Emperor Severus was pissed. He had dragged Geta off you, shouting stuff like ‘this is not how you treat guests’ and ‘you let that little girl beat you up’. Caracalla chased after them while sobbing as the emperor dragged Geta by his collar out of the room.

The banging on the door only got louder, together with the other women of this court you were hiding in the cellar. Soft prayers were whispered, hopes that the devine above might save them. You didn’t pray, you knew there was no stopping an army, your kingdom was way too small to beat Parthia. Your father didn’t have the men, nor did he have much expierence. It would be over soon and all you could hope for is that they wouldn’t slaughter and take every single woman in this room.

Over the years you luckily grew to appreciate each other’s company. Visits to Rome became more frequent. Your father enjoyed the wine, food, feasts and whores in the capital better. Geta was still as boisterous as before as he often liked to remind you of how he would become emperor someday. Caracalla had grown out of his shyness, but he got reckless and often faced his father’s wrath.

You were sitting on Caracalla’s bed, soflty dapping your handkerchief against his busted lip. Geta was leaning agaisnt a pillar as he watched you tend to his brother. “What happened.” You had asked Geta, Caracalla was still visibly upset. He was rambling some words you couldn’t understand, making himself small and leaning out of his touch. Sometimes it felt like you were talking to a child.

“Drank too much wine last night and was found in the horse stables.” Geta replied, keeping it short. You could tell his fathers violence got to him.

“You’re a fool sometimes Caracalla.” You spoke to him, lifting his chin to get a better look.

“He just needs to die then I will be emperor.” He had spouted a bit angrily in return.

You sighed softly and stood up. “We will fetch a doctor.” You spoke, nodding your head to Geta to signal him to come along. Something was up with Caracalla, he was reckless but he had become more unpredictable and forgetful over the last few months. It was eating away at you, you saw them as your closest friends.

“Something is wrong with him, Geta.” You spoke as soon as the two of you turned a corner. “Did the doctors say anything last time?”

“They say his peverse nature has infected his mind.” Geta spoke as he walked with you. “They’re trying to treat him but father says he is fine.”

“He’s not.”

“I know.”

Then the screams came. The walls had been breached. Younger girls started sobbing, with a stern look you tried to make them shut up. You couldn’t blame them, the worse thing that could happen to you is that they would make you a concubine. Soldiers knew better than harming a princess that could be used for blackmail. But those girls, they would have to endure the worst. You held your breath as you could hear them getting closer, your heart beating in your chest. The doors opened, but to your surprise it weren't Parthian soldiers. Their shields carried the Roman chrest. It were Roman Soldiers. Had they come to your aid? You got up, your dress was dirty and your messy. The seige lasted a few hours and you had been stuck in this stuffy room.

“Princess Y/N, you have summoned by imperial decree.” One of the generals entered, you did not recognize him. He looked older, his black hair slowly graying. They took you, dragging you out of the room despite your protests. The didn’t take commands from a woman, they took direct orders from the emperors and the emperors alone.

It was a particularly hot summer that year. This time you had went ahead of your father to Rome, he had some business to take care of back home. It was uncommon for girls your age to travel alone, you had long passed the age to be wed, but you were of age. It was the only reason your father let you go alone. Something had changed this year tho, you weren’t sure about what. The three of you always went swimming in their private pool, it had been a tradition for you of some sort. You never thought of it as strange. Yet, this year you could feel your cheeks heating up as you watched them swim around.

“Are you just going to lay there?” Geta spoke up. You were still laying in the shade and still dressed.

“Don't feel like swimming.” You spoke as you grinned softly.

“Is the princess afraid of getting wet?” He laughed loudly as he swam to the side of the pool.

“I am not!” You got up defensively. In the midst of your conversation you had not noticed Caracalla lurked behind you. With a giggle he flung you into the water.

“There we go.” Geta laughed, watching you struggle to swim in the flowly stola you were wearing. You would have bothered to undress first if you knew they were gonna force you in.

The echoes of Caracalla's laughter rung around the pool. It had gotten worse, you knew that. Both of them got worse in their own way. From what you heard they were drunks with concubines from all over the empire and a lust for blood. It made you sad.

“You should come to the Colosseum soon.” Geta swam closer to you, looking slightly down on you. The water was up to your shoulders but you could still stand. The way he looked at you made your head do summersaults. He lifted your chin. “I think you would enjoy what we have prepared for you.” He got closer, eye contact still remaining as your lips almost touched.

“I am not sure if-” He cut you off with a kiss. Caracalla was behind you now, his hands roamed your hips and his lips were on your neck. He softly bit down on the skin as he whimpered while rutting against you. You were sandwhiched between them. One of Geta's hands was on your breast, the other holding your chin in place.

It was so perfect, until it wasn't. Your father had barged in and saw the scene. He, too, had heard of the twins endeavours. And upon seeing you sandwiched between them he got furious. He ordered you out of the pool and he scolded the both of them. Surely, they would never hear the end of it from their own father. It made you anxious for what would happen when the emperor got word of what had happened here. That didn't matter tho, you would be there to patch up their bruises.

Atleast, that is what you thought. Your father had send you home right away and you never saw the two of them again. The first year was hard but you learned to live with the heartache. With your father illness you had more pressing matters than Rome.

They had dragged you back all the way to Rome. It was early in the morning when you finally arrived, your head ached and your feet were sore. On the way you were informed your father was killed, only worsening your pain. The soldiers had given you a minimum of food and water and kept you dressed in simple rags. You felt like a prisoner and you still weren’t none the wiser about why you were summoned. Atleast you didn’t have to walk all the way.

You arrived in Rome filthy, dehydrated, hungry and confused. At once, you were taken to the throne room. It was nearly the same as you remembered, only there were two thrones. Maybe he put it there as a way to honor his deceased wife. Taking in the surroundings you heard the emperor and the guards come in.

“I hope there is a good reason for my treatment on this journey, your imperial highness.” You turned around, but instead of seeing emperor Severus, you stood eye to eye with them. Geta and Caracalla. Your heart dropped. It been years since you had seen them. They were the emperors now?

“We apologise for your treatment, my lady.” Geta spoke first as he offered his hand. You stood frozen, taking in the both of them. You couldn’t lie, it was good to see them. It was like a weight falling of your shoulders. But something felt off. Geta had a cold look in his eyes and Caralla looked almost insane. His eyes reminded you of your father. Both of them were dressed in gold armour with a gold laurel crown on their heads. They radiated divinity. It didn’t feel the same as it once did.

With a trembling lip you stumbled over to them, falling on your knees infront of them. You had grasped ahold of Geta’s robe. Caracalla grinned as he crouched down to look at you. “We saved your kingdom. You must thank us, your brother will be king now.”

You looked up at him with fat tears rolling down your face as you were reminded of your father’s death. Geta grabbed your face in his hand. “What my brother means to say is that we are very sorry about your father. He may have acted like a fool but no ally of Rome should suffer like you have.” He gave you a hand, you took it and stood. “There will be games in his honour tonight. You will be attending.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

Softly, you nodded. You tried to process what was going on. “Yes, games.”

“Real games, with bloodshed. No mercy.” Caracalla spoke to you as if he tried to comfort you. “We got you a dress.”

“Yes, Cassia will help you get dressed. You must get some rest now.” Geta turned to a young girl, she looked foreign but she had a Roman. She was probably a concubine that they liked so much she got promoded to a handmaid. “Cassia, get her cleaned up.” He snided at the girl.

Cassia led you out of the throne room to the baths. The hot water felt nice against your sore skin, you felt clean atlast. An essence of mint and citrus hanging in the air.

After the bath, Cassia had dressed you in your gown. It was purple with gold trimmings, it must’ve cost a fortune. The fabric felt expensive. Your hair was done in an elaborate hairstyle. Even if you were a princess, the luxeries in Rome was something your father could not afford. You looked like an empress, the empress. “The emperors wish to see you before you leave for the Colosseum.” She eventually spoke after she finished doing your hair.

With heavy feet you made your way to the throne room. It did feel better to be dolled up again, but under these circumstances you doubt you could feel anything at all. You were alone in a city full of people that would probably want you dead, you had no moment of peace as two guards followed you at all costs. They pushed the door open to the throne room, Geta and Caracalla were already waiting for you.

They had changed into new clothes too. Caracalla wore a black gown, Geta opted for a rich red. The twins turned to look at you.

“You look splendid, my lady.” Geta spoke first before Caracalla interrupted him.

“My brother and I have a proposal to make.” He sat in his throne like a giddy child. You carefully watched them.

“Your father has passed, leaving you unmarried and under nobody’s protection.” Geta started, you weren’t sure what he was getting at. “Your brother is too busy being king, so..”

“What is it you want from me.” You cautiously narrowed your eyes.

Caracalla rose to his feet and walked towards you, grabbing your hands. “Marry us. You loved us when we were children, you love us now right?” There was a hint of desperation in his eyes. “Right?” He repeated, now sounding a little more angry.

You were left speechless. If they had asked you this question a few years ago you would’ve agreed without a second thought, but after all these years and all that happened you just couldn’t process what they asked of you.

“Nothing would happen to your kingdom once you are empress.” Geta was suddenly behind you, whispering in your ears. “We will make the man that murdered your father die a painfull death, my lady.” He stroked a ringed finger against your arm, the metal felt cold against your skin.

Geta took a step back. “We will give you some time to think, we have a surprise for you during the games first.” You heard Caracalla giggling, what had they planned?

In the Colosseum you were seated in between them. The two of them clearly enjoyed the bloodshed. Geta watched with a calm gaze and a smile on his face, Caracalla on the other hand was clapping and laughing as soon as blood was spilled. They had plenty of servants filling their cups, while they drank and enjoyed the finest food. You watched silently with your hands folded in your lap. The screams of agony from whoever was being slaughtered only reminded you of home. When you closed your eyes you could see the families being slain, the face of the Parthian general clear as day. You couldn’t have protected them even if you wanted, it made you feel helpless.

“And now! For the main event, our undefeated champion!” The master of ceremonies announced. Geta gave you a shove, making you look up at what was actually going on in the arena. “The Tigris of Gaul!” The crowd roared when he entered. He rode in on a rhino, the heavy beast trotting in.

Caracalla was basically jumping of his chair now, he took your hand and led you to the edge of the balcony. His grin was like a cheshire cat. “This will be our gift to you.” He spoke.

Geta got up as well, gracefully walking to place a hand on your back.

“Our champion will be taking it up against the Parthian Mithridates!” A beat up and confused man entered the ring, you recognized his face immediatly. It was the general that had killed your citizens. You remained silently as you coldheartedly watched the man taking it up against the Tigris of Gaul.

It didn’t take long for the gladiator to have the general on his back, he had only been given a dull sword. He had no chance of winning. The Tigris held his blade against the general’s neck, looking up to the emperor’s balcony for approval to kill him.

Geta had been smiling this entire time, gauging your reaction. “Well? What do you say? What judgement will the gods render.”

“Kill him.” Caracalla almost spat in your ear, his behaviour getting more erratic. “Kill him!”

Your thoughts ran a hundred miles an hour. That was the man that killed your people, he might even have killed your father. He caused so much suffering, so much death. You had him in your clutches now, you were the one deciding his faith. You looked down at him, the tears had fallen down your cheek a while ago. Were you able to say word, have this man killed? You had always been a sweet girl, your father sang praises of your gentle nature whenever he could. But something had changed, something had stirred.

They had given you this chance. This could mean war with Parthia and yet they still did it. They did it because they could, and they wanted you to have revenge. If being of empress of Rome ment you could reign terror down on the ones that hurt your people you had made your decision.

You looked at Geta, giving him a small nod. His grin grew even wider as he grabbed your hand. He lifted it slightly, he held his other fist up. “The gods have rendered their judgement!” The crowd went silent. They all watched the downturned thumb and they cheered once more. It was true what they said about the games, show them blood or else they will want yours.

You watched coolly as general Mithridates got his throat slid, only flinching slightly as the blade his neck and the blood spurted out. Before you could see the rest you had turned around to leave the emperors box.

“Where are you going. You are missing the best part.” Caracalla frowned as he watched you leave.

“There is a wedding to be planned.” You replied calmly. The twins looked at each other, their gift had worked. Rome would have a new empress soon, and she would show no mercy to her enemies.

[trulyumai]

Festivities of Saturnalia

pairing: caracalla / wife! reader

description: The Roman’s didn’t have Christmas; however they did have Saturnalia. With plenty of food, wine and presents, the festivities had begun.

warnings: none. so much fluff you’ll be buried in a soft, comforting cloud.

a-n: i love writing for this man so im glad y’all love reading it! enjoooooooy~

you didn’t mind the return of the festivities. Saturnalia; the festival held for the God of Saturn. It usually lasted a week, but with how the twins acted, it went for about two.

tables upon tables were situated in the main temple, almost everyone throughout Rome would show up in custom with vintage wines, aged cheeses and gifts aplenty for their loved ones.

you were no different. with two goblets in your palms and a semi-wrapped present under the meat of your arm, you made your way through the bustling crowd.

cheers and sounds of merriment were all around, a light break in the hustling environment helped you guide seamlessly towards the private section.

Where the emperors section lay tucked into the corner. Candles were spread out by the area, lighting it up beautifully while green foliage surrounded the offered foods.

“Ah, look who it is.” Placing the glasses gently, your thumbs brushed against the wooden table, with lidded eyes you smiled at Geta. “Good merriement to you too, my lord.”

The taller man scoffed, veiny hands smoothed over his mouth, wiping the stain and aroma of a bittersweet wine. His robes were ornate, gold lay about the seams as a white and red scheme took over the vastness of silk.

“Looking for your lover?”

Rolling your eyes, you sat down just beside him. Slumping forward with one arm pressed against a cheek, a sigh escaped quickly. “How’d you know?”

“Like it isn’t obvious,” gesturing to his drink, a servant dipped a bottle forward, filling Geta’s chalice completely.

The woman looked at you expectedly, already inching the beverage towards the empty cup.

“That’s alright,” you smiled, “see if anyone else needs their fill.”

The lady bowed, already on her way to the tables beside your own.

Swirling the marooned stained liquid around, a bored look crossed the emperors face before he spoke again.“So, what did you get my adoring brother? A robe, new rings… perhaps another disgusting pet to lay upon his shoulders?”

A laugh, warm and light broke out of you and Geta joined in smoothly. “No, no Dondus Jr,” nervously you brushed your hair back, little baby hairs escaped the tight braids and already you wanted to fix it.

“I got him something he’s been wanting actually.”

“Oh?” Geta leaned forward, his array of jewelery shined bright against the light. “And what would that be, dear one?”

Glaring jokingly at the ginger, you couldn’t help but return a moody tone back, shoving against his snoopy nature. “Well, wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually—“

“Angel!” Even through such a loud setting, his voice could be distinguished. Cranking your head up, you noticed the wrinkled clothing, the mess of hair placed upon such a pale head.

Your adoring husband.

“Finally,” Geta called out, tone flat and certain.

“I thought you were skipping such celebrations, we almost gave up hope!”

Caracalla, ignoring his brothers pokes, went straight for you. Not having time to stand, you smiled brightly up at the man, already he was placing a kiss upon the crown of your head, and one more on your temple.

Although he looked messy— seemed unfit for such an occasion, the man came with gifts. Two were perched precariously in his hands as a grin overtook his features.

“Angel, you left without me! I told you I had to get ready.”

“We both couldn’t be seen late, my love. It is unbecoming.” A whine, pitched and high left the man’s pouting lips. “Who cares? Not like they’ll say something.”

Caracalla gestured for you to stand and with no fight at all you did just that. Now, with access to a free and warm chair (thanks to you), the emperor crashed down, it was then that Dondus inched their way out from the back of his head, crying out to their owner for such an unexpected action.

“Hello little one,” you cooed, your arm came out for the little creature, to which they took most excitedly.

“Wife,” Caracalla whined. “Come, sit!” Spreading his legs, the twinned emperor made room for your frame.

“Gods,” a look of disgust was thrown your way. “Do you two have to be so touchy all of the time?”

“Yes,”

“Of course!”

The both of you coherently called out as Caracalla brushed his nose upon the smooth skin of your neck, just where the dress dipped down.

“I got you something,” you sung teasingly, your nails climbed their way up his arm until it met with his soft jaw. “You did?!”

“Mhm, well, technically I got you two things but,” leaning in, you had to whisper gently with lips just grazing his ear.

“You’ll have to get the other one tonight,”

Caracalla grunted out, although it sounded more like a muffled moan, his hands dug into your hips and with reddened cheeks he looked anywhere but you.

“Do you want the other one now?” You questioned,brushing past his unruly bangs.

“Yes— please,” already the man knew what present was his and grabbed at with with callous hands.

“Calla— patience!” Interrupted by a laugh you tried to slow the man down, but already the present was unwrapped and the emperors hands stilled.

“You didn’t.”

“I did!”

Geta leaned over the table, the wine in his hand dribbled over the side but it couldn’t be more forgotten.

“Impressive.” His brother spoke, eyeing the gift suspiciously.

It was a small knife, no bigger than a dagger but the ornate design made up for it. With a golden handle, white and yellow jewels go vertically up the sides, to where the silver, shined blade lay on display.

“You— how did you..” His eyes noticed an inscription, on the butt of the blade lay his initials, purposefully dug in with the skill of a smith.

“Happy Saturnalia, my love.” A kiss was placed upon his cheek, smudging a light red upon the man’s skin.

Geta lost interest completely, instead his attention turned towards the citizens bickering in the middle of the hall— pushing and shoving each other while accusations were being thrown. A contented, deep grin entered his face when a punch was thrown, then two.

“Your turn, Angel!” Finally out of his stupor, Caracalla placed a poorly wrapped box in your hands. It was long and small in width, only a fool couldn’t tell what such an item was but you held a look of surprise none the less.

“Mmmmh, what could it be?” Long nails felt there way under the material of the gift, until the top was lifted and removed.

Gods, you really were surprised now.

Shakily, your fingers glided against the stones of the jewelry, you couldn’t believe just how many jeweles lay upon the golden chain.

You were afraid to even remove it.

“Do you like it?” Nervously, your husband chewed at his lips, his palms now itching with sweat placed themselves on either side of you.

Afraid to even touch your figure with such tainted skin.

“I love it! Are you joking? I— I don’t deserve such a gift, my love, I—“

“Angel! What nonsense,” he growled, offended of such an exchange of words. Hastily the man grabbed the necklace, you bit back a worried garble of noises as the cold chain found its way on your neck.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in Rome, you of all people deserve such an item. It was made just for you.” Finishing up, the necklace was placed just right, not too tight but sturdy enough to be placed above your collarbones.

“Thank you, darling,” you mumbled. Caracalla laughed at your embarrassed figure, his long fingers brushed back the hair hiding your face.

“Always so humble, angel. Look at you,” cooing, Caracalla caressed your reddened cheeks and you tried to scold the man, push him away with a gentle shove but it didn’t deter the man one bit.

“And where’s my little gift, brother? I gave you yours already.” Annoyed by the interruption, Caracalla pointed at the other gift beside his goblet.

“Have at it, Dundus picked this one out for you brother.”

“Very funny.” Geta squinted, picking up the box with hesitancy.

….

“It wasn’t a joke, brother.”

[jamesmcalover]

we did not die that night

Simon Kalivoda x afab!reader

Warnings: (maybe slight angst???) fluff, oral sex

Summary: Reader walks in on Simon wanking in the bathroom that night.

3.7k words - not proofread!

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" I yelled, my hands quickly shielding my eyes from the very naked body of my friend. Not only was he naked, he was clearly enjoying himself before I burst into the boys' bathroom. I was definitely not expecting someone wanking in there, to be fair. Feeling my cheeks flush, I walked back outside, shutting the door and waited until it was safe for me to go in again. A shaky breath escaped my lungs and I found myself pacing a few steps in front of the bathroom. That was weird, I thought, such an interesting time to wank. Was he turned on by that weird chick that tried to murder him with a razor blade? He said she was hot...

I looked into the empty and dark hallway of the school. It made me sick and uncomfortable standing in it all alone. Before I could panick, Simon was shouting for me.

"You can come in now!" His voice sounded muffled through the heavy door. As I pushed it open again – much slower this time – his eyes found mine. He looked embarrassed, which was weird. Simon was never embarrassed about anything. That boy was an open book.

"I'm really sorry," I said, "I should've knocked." He was wearing a blue knitted cardigan now, it probably smelled a bit musty from laying in the lost-and-found box for such a long time, but it looked pretty on him. Much better than the sweaty shirt he was wearing two days in a row that had Sam's blood on it and almost got him killed.

"It's alright. I didn't really pick the best place," he replied with a small grin. There he was again.

"I'd tell you that I haven't seen anything but I kinda did... see everything." My voice became smaller, much quieter, saying the last words. I had embarrassed him again, his big blue eyes were filled with guilt and I was desperate to loosen the uncomfortable tension in the room.

"But we might die tonight, so... you won't have to worry about that," I said. He laughed.

We did not die that night.

Sam died – for a few minutes at least – but she came back to life and all of us were questioned by the police. They didn't believe us, but they never do, do they?

A few days passed before we returned to school, back to the place where we'd tried to kill those monsters. Almost no trace of that night remained. The floors were spotless, no sign of Sam's blood, and the classroom door destroyed by the axe had already been replaced. Only the girls' bathroom was still barricaded. I didn't even want to imagine what it looked like on the inside.

Walking by the bathrooms, I wondered if Simon still thought about me bursting in on him mid-masturbation sometimes. Because I did. I tried forgetting, but the images didn't seem to fade. Everytime I closed my eyes, I saw his hand gripping his thick cock, moving up and down frantically. His head thrown back, his blonde locks slightly bouncing, mouth hanging open, panting.

I wouldn't admit it, but I had caught myself fantasising about it from time to time. I had thought about his cock in class once, it wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either. It was thick, though, and I wondered how it would feel in my hand, or my mouth even, my tongue dancing on his tip until he came on it. I wondered how his cum would taste like, what sounds me might make when he came.

When I snapped back into reality, I was praying to God no one near me was secretly able to read my mind – I wasn't even religious but I shouldn't think like that, Simon is my friend, nothing more.

I hadn't really seen him the past week. He came back to school a few days later because of an a stab wound to his stomach he'd suffered in the store that night, so I hadn't had the chance – or maybe the courage – to talk to him about what happened. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to. Of if he did.

At lunch, I quickly spotted him talking to Deena as they got their food. A band-aid covered the cut on his neck, and his lip was still a bit swollen from when he hit the ground. He probably felt badass walking down the school corridors looking like that, telling people he'd almost been brutally stabbed but managed to escape and survive.

Deena was barely hurt that night, which was unfair given she'd dragged us all into this mess. Maybe it was harsh of me to say, but if it weren't for her, I wouldn’t have been there, nearly sliced in half, all because she crashed that Sunnyvaler's car.

And to top it off, she still managed to pull Sam. I had been avoiding her, though I doubted she'd noticed. It felt as if I was made of air.

I saw Simon looking around, scanning the cafeteria, but his eyes never found mine.

A loud thud from the locker beside me made me jump, my heart leaping into my throat. It didn't take much to scare me anymore – I startled at every little noise. I turned to see Simon grinning, his usual cocky self.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, shit face" I said, now relieved it was only him.

"Sorry." He said, though he wasn't. He loved scaring me. His grin widened. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Not really." I hugged the book tighter, trying not to meet his gaze.

"You sure about that?" His tone was teasing, but there was something else there, just under the surface. When I finally met his eyes, images from that night in the bathroom started flooding my mind again. face went hot, and I was pretty sure my cheeks turned slightly red. I hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Yeah, I've just been... processing?" It sounded more like a question than a real answer.

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Processing what?" I frowned. What did he think I was trying to process?

"You know... almost getting murdered. Watching my friends almost get murdered. All that stuff."

His grin faded, replaced by something softer. For a moment he seemed like he wanted to say something serious, but instead, he leaned against the locker and shurgged. "I guess we didn't die, though."

I let out a small chuckle at his reference to what I said after I caught him. "Guess not." I said. "Do you still think about it?"

I didn't know if I meant the blood and slaughter or me seeing him wank. I was probably thinking about the latter more at this point.

"I try not to but... y'know. It's all in my head." He said. I hummed, not sure which question he gave me an answer to.

Later that night, I tossed around in my bed. It was too early to sleep, but I hated being awake. Sleep was the only escape from reality I had left – everything else made me think about what happened.

After thirty minutes of failed attempts to fall asleep, I gave up. I got up, dressed again, and brushed my hair, which had become tangled from all the tossing and turning. It was just after six, and my parents weren’t even home yet. Simon must still be at work, too, I thought.

Grabbing my keys, I stepped out of the house and wandered slowly along the streets toward the grocery store he worked at. Being alone in the streets still scared me sometimes, but it wasn’t a long walk.

The store also showed no signs of undead zombie killers. It was as if nothing had ever happened there.

As i rounded a corner into the isle, where sam had been lying dead, I came face-to-face with Simon, who looked at me in surprise.

"Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here!" He exclaimed, his voice enthusiastic but slightly higher-pitched than usual.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, my voice sounding flatter than I insisted. "Thought I'd come bother you instead."

Simon smirked, leaning on the cart he'd been pushing. "I'm always down to be bothered." But his eyes showed concern. "Are you okay though?"

I shrugged, running my fingers over the keys in my pocket. "Are any of us?"

He didn't answer right away, and for a second, the hum of fluorescent lights above us felt too loud. Finally, he said, "I get off in half an hour. Do you want me to walk you home?"

I smiled up at him. I never realised how pretty his eyes were and how cute his slightly crooked teeth made him look. "Sure. Thank you," I said.

"Wanna help me stock shelves until i'm off? It's mind-numbing, but at least you won't think about... you know." He handed me one of the cereal boxes from his cart. I hesitated but nodded. Mind-numbing sounded exactly like what I needed.

We quickly went from stocking the shelves in silence to goofing around and avoiding work until his shit ended. For a little while, it felt like things were back to normal—no awkwardness, no heaviness hanging over us. I realized how much I’d missed that.

The walk home was quieter again, but not uncomfortably so. I laughed at his bad jokes and half-hearted attempts to cheer me up.

"Thanks for walking me home," I said as we reached my door. The empty driveway implied that my parents were still at work. They worked late shifts almost every day, so the house would be dark and silent, as always.

Simon smiled. "No problem. It’s what I'm here for, right? Keeping you out of trouble."

I laughed softly, my hand lingering on the doorknob. The thought of going inside alone suddenly felt unbearable.

"Hey," I said before I could second-guess myself. "Do you want to come in? Just for a bit?"

He raised an eyebrow teasingly. "You sure? I thought your whole thing was avoiding me."

I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't avoiding you." His grin told me he didn't believe me, but I pressed on. "Anyway, my parents won't be home for a while, and I'm not ready to sit in there by myself yet."

His expression softened, and he nodded. "Alright. Lead the way, then."

As I pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet house, I realized how much I needed the company.

I led him into my bedroom and sat on my bed, as he stood awkwardly in the middle of my room, unsure of where to sit.

I let out a snort. "You can sit on my bed, Simon. You won't get cooties," I teased as I scooted further back until my back rested against the wall. Simon smirked and plopped down at the foot of my bed, sitting crisscrossed and facing me.

"Aren't you mad?" I finally asked after a few seconds of silence between us. Simon looked at me confused. "At Deena, I mean."

"Not really. Why? Are you?" He asked me and I took a deep breath, not knowing how to answer.

"Yeah."

Simon's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn't say anything right away. He just watched me, waiting for me to explain.

"I mean… none of this would've happened if it weren't for her," I said, my voice low. "She's the one who crashed the car. She's the one who dragged us into all of this. And now…" I trailed off, struggling to put the tangled mess of my feelings into words. "I can’t stop thinking about what happened. What could've happened."

Simon nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I get that," he said. "But… I don't know. Deena didn't exactly want this to happen, you know? She was just trying to help Sam. I guess if I'm mad at anyone, it's… those things. The witch."

"Yeah, well, you can't yell at undead monsters," I muttered.

Simon gave me a small, lopsided smile. "True. But you can yell at me if it helps."

I couldn’t help but laugh, even as my chest tightened. "I won’t."

"Okay, but seriously," he said, his tone softening. "You've got every right to be mad, but don’t let it eat you up. You survived, Y/N. That’s what matters, right?"

"You're right," I said, picking at the dry skin on my fingers until it peeled off. "I just don't understand why everyone pretends like nothing ever happened."

"People rather forget than face their trauma," Simon replied softly.

I hummed in response and lay down, the side of my face pressing against the cool pillow. Simon stayed seated at the foot of the bed, watching me.

"Can I ask you something?" I heard myself mumble. "You don't have to answer." He nodded.

"Why did you... wank? Why in the middle of all that mess?"

Simon’s eyes locked onto mine, his gaze intense. He didn’t look embarrassed about it anymore. He paused for a moment before speaking.

"I guess it was the adrenaline? I don't know, I think I was trying to feel normal. Everything was so messed up, and I just wanted one thing that made sense, you know?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. I hadn't actually expected him to explain, let alone like this.

"I don't know if that makes sense," he added, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"It does," I said softly.

I patted the empty space next to me, inviting him to lie down beside me. The bed slightly bounced as his back hit the soft mattress. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes darting restlessly as though they were trying to take in everything at once, never still. His hair was falling from his face, soft blonde curls pooling on on my pillow.

I reached my hand out in his direction slowly until it was in his hair. He closed his eyes as I twisted his strands around my fingers. "What are you thinking about?" I asked after a long silence.

Simon’s lips quirked up in a small smile. "Nothing and everything," he said.

His body shifted, turning to face mine. I felt his breath on my face, only inches between us now. My hand was still in his hair, but it didn't move anymore, just rested there. His Eyes roamed across my face, studying me like he was memorizing every little detail.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on my lips before flicking back to meet my eyes. "Looking," he said quietly. "You're hard to read, you know that?"

I swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the way my heart pounded in my chest. "What are you trying to read?"

Simon's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Everything you’re not saying."

I slowly leaned forward, my heart pounding in my chest, until I felt his shaky breath on my lips. I hesitated for a second, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

Closing the small gap between us, my lips brushed against his in a gentle kiss. It was soft, and over before I had the chance to overthink it.

When I pulled back, his eyes fluttered open, searching mine. The corners of his mouth twitched into a big smile before he leaned over to kiss me again. I felt his hand brushing away a strand of hair, then rest on my cheek. He pushed me on my back, slightly hovering over me now. My hands found his neck, buried in his hair once again. The second kiss was heated, fast and left me breathless.

"Fuck," I breathed when Simon pulled away for a second, only to cover my neck in kisses now. I inhaled sharply, as I had not expected that, but I wasn't irritated.

"Simon," I murmured, my voice a mix of surprise and something I couldn't quite name.

His lips paused against my skin, and he lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze. For a second, the intensity in his eyes made it hard to breathe.

"Is this okay?" He asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

I nodded, my hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. "Yeah," I whispered.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before his lips found mine again, in a short, sweet kiss, before they returned to my neck. His hands were roaming over hips, my stomach and my breasts, leaving a squeeze from time to time.

My hands slid down to his torso, gripping him as I pulled him closer. He shifted, his weight pressing against me until he was fully on top, and I could feel his boner on my hip through his pants. The images of him with his cock exposed came back and suddenly, I was hungry.

I pushed him off of my body and climbed on his, kissing him hard while I fiddled with his belt.

"Is this okay?" I asked him in between kisses and he looked at me with his big blue eyes.

"Fuck, yes," he replied. I quickly unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off of him. It was only covered by the thin fabric of his unterwear now. I ignored the urge to touch him for a second, as I pushed his shirt up and motioning for him to take it off. He was now only wearing his socks and underwear, and I was still fully clothed. Simon pulled at the hem of my shirt, so I let him take it off, his eyes found my chest immediately. I was wearing a white bra with tiny cherries on it and usually, I would've been embarrassed, but it was different with Simon. I didn't have to be embarrassed by anything with him.

I let my hands roam over his chest briefly, before they disappeared in his briefs. He threw his head back into the pillows immediately and let out a quiet moan.

He looked like I had remembered, only laying down this time, and with my hand on his dick, instead of his own.

I moved the briefs down a little, pulling him out. His cock looked even better up close, the veins decorating it made my mouth water. I leaned my head down and thickly licked the underside of his shaft. Simon's head basically shot up to look at me.

"Fuck," he whispered, his thumb was rubbing my cheek slightly, before he buried his hand in my hair. I could feel his grip tighten with every up and down, his breath became shorter and shorter, moans and groans louder.

"Fuck, Y/N, I-" He came in my mouth, the thick and salty substance felt weird on my tongue, but not unpleasant. I quickly swallowed it and licked his tip clean before pulling of. Drool was running down my chin. I wiped it on the back of my hand. Simon's breathing was quick, his eyes heavy as he looked at me. He took my hand into his and pulled me forward so I'd lie on him, and planted a short kiss on my lips.

"That was fucking hot," he said and I let out a chuckle at that.

"I'm glad you liked it," I said with a smirk. He put a strand of hair behind my ear gently, looking at me with tender eyes, before pushing me down to lie on the mattress. I looked at the ceiling as I felt his lips and tongue explore my body, his hands gripping everything they possibly could.

He opened my pants and I lifted my hips to help him pull them off together with my panties. I quickly got rid of my bra in that process as well. Simon paused. He looked at my body, taking in every tiny detail, as if he was scared he would forget what I had looked like. I felt pretty under his gaze. His hands found my boobs again, brushing over my hard nipples. They wandered down, his left hand stopping at my hips, his right going further down, stopping at my public bone. He looked up to me, seeing me nod, before scooting his body further down between my legs to be at eye-level with my most private part of my body.

I felt him let out a short breath, as his finger moved between my folds, feeling how wet I was because of him. "Fuck," I heard him whisper. I let my head fall into my pillows. They smelled like his hair now and I tried to inhale that smell while his tongue met my clit and I let out a shaky moan.

"Oh God," I said, his tongue dancing around in the wetness of my cunt. My hands were in his hair – probably their favourite place to be in – pulling his locks, trying to get him closer as I was coming with a loud whine.

The orgasm hit me so intensely that my vision went blurry for a second, and I had to regulate my breathing.

"Was that good?" Simon asked me, now lying next to me with his hands found in my hair, stroking it slightly. I looked at him like he was crazy. My juices still glistened on his chin.

"That was probably the best orgasm I've ever had," I told him truthfully as I wiped his chin with the corner of my blanked that was now covering our naked bodies. Simon grinned proudly at me.

"I'm glad we didn't die that night," I said after a moment of silence. He smiled at me and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"And I'm glad you caught me masturbating." I let out a loud laugh, slightly shoving his shoulder.

"Idiot."

Simon grinned big at me an laid his head on my chest. "I think we should start going out." He said while his fingers fiddled with a loose thread on my blanket.

I smiled softly. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Not yet, I want to take you on a date first."

"I'd like that," I said, gently caressing his back with one hand and stroking his head with the other.

[syraxnyra]

Raw. Till I’m screaming. Next question.

[multific]

Full Again

Dimitri Kraminoff x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Kraven, pregnancy, angst

Summary: You left him, you ran away. But he found you and he needs answers.

“Why? I thought you were different. You left me just like my brother.”

You couldn’t even look into his eyes. Avoiding him at all costs was the plan for the last year.

Well, almost a year, 11 months.

And there he was.

Sitting across from you at the table in his club.

Kidnapping you was exactly what he did. Bringing you here against your will.

And he only had one question.

“Why?”

The pain in his voice hurt.

“I had my reason.”

“I know you still love me. I can see in your eyes. So then what can possibly be your explanation?”

“I can’t-“ his fist met the table. It made you jump and his drink almost spilled.

“Bullshit,” he whispered. “Did you find someone? Someone better? Taller? More muscles?”

“No.” your answer was immediate and straightforward.

"THEN WHY?" he yelled, his eyes filled with tears.

"Because I was scared and pregnant," you said and a huge weight fell from your shoulders. You looked at your feet and blinked back the tears. "I was scared of your father." you looked into his eyes. "It broke me, but I had to leave. Who knows what he would have done if he found out? You know he never liked me."

"So, I have a child?"

"Yes." your voice was shaky yet it held power.

"How could you be so selfish? I have a child and you ran away?"

"I was selfish yes. A selfish mother who put their child before me. Please, you have to understand Dimi." you were crying. "Last year, during your birthday, your father looked at me and he told me that if I dared get pregnant he would personally kill my child and me. He looked into my eyes and told me this."

"Why didn't you tell me he threatened you?"

"You know I couldn't. And so, like a coward, I ran. I'm sorry." you stood up and wanted to leave.

"My father is dead you know. You don't have to be scared anymore. I took over his business. He can no longer hurt you." you looked at Dimitri shocked.

"How did he die?" you turned to look at him.

"Hunting accident. But I know my brother's hand was in it. You don't have to be scared anymore, come back to me. I will keep you safe. Both of you." he stood up and rushed over to you but you put your hands up, his chest met with your hands, but you didn't push him away.

Your eyes searched his for any sign of a lie.

"Is he really?" you whispered and he quickly nodded. "He is home, I can get him for you."

Dimitri looked confused.

"My father? I told you he is buried, in pieces."

"No, our son. I named him Mikhail. I call him Misha. Two months old, I found a kind woman who babysits him while I work." you looked behind yourself at the door. "I can bring him to you. You can meet him." your head snapped back and looked into his eyes as his hands came to his chest and held yours.

"You are so beautiful. I missed you so much."

His voice was so soft, so kind.

"I'm so sorry." tears began to fall again but his hand held you even closer, pulling you in.

His lips met yours.

It was so sweet and it filled your heart with so much love.

How could you leave him?

You love him so much.

"Let's get our son. I want us three to go home."

Home.

"I will get him for you, just give me a driver and a car. I need to... pack his things."

"Okay, I will still go with you."

"You won't be happy with the place I rent."

---

And you were right.

Dimitry looked at the building and froze.

You took this opportunity to go in and get your son from your neighbour.

"I brought you someone," you told Misha as he giggled. "Your father." you smiled as you lifted him and began putting his stuff away.

Dimitry walked into the apartment with a frown.

"Misha, look who it is," you said to your child with a voice only babies get. Misha was still very small.

Being only two months old.

But he looked exactly like Dimitry.

"My son." you handed your son to Dimitry who carefully held and looked at Misha. "I promise you, I will be so much better."

You believed him, you knew he would try his hardest to be the best father possible.

And you know he will be able to achieve his goal.

Once you finished picking up all your stuff, Dimitry guided you to your new home.

Misha quickly fell asleep and you placed him in the guest room, in the middle of the bed.

"We will decorate a room for him, I will buy everything he will ever need."

"Thank you, Dimi."

You two also decided to go to bed shortly after.

"He usually wakes up once per night to eat," you said as you lay down.

The mattress felt like heaven under your tired body.

"I will get up for him."

"And what will you feed him with?" you asked with a yawn as you closed your eyes.

You could imagine the confusion on his face.

You fell asleep not long after that.

Dimitri stayed up and watched you.

He was so happy to have you back. He was able to finally find you.

And now there you slept next to him with his son sleeping in the other room.

Dimitri slowly got up and headed to the room next door.

He walked in and watched his son sleeping, Dimitri knelt on the floor next to the bed and watched his son sleep.

"You look just like me," he whispered and ran a finger down the baby's cheek.

His mind was completely blank all he could do was feel, Misha's cheek was so soft.

"I now completely understand your mother. I would have run away with you too."

Dimitri watched Misha sleep for about an hour before he headed back to his bed where you were.

He moved in under the blanket and pulled you close before he went to sleep.

His heart also felt full.

A/N: The above picture is not mine, credit goes to the owner. (once we have some gifs uploaded to Tumblr, I will be able to use those)

Taglist: 

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

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

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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

[yearsbecomingcool]

decided by my control | dmitri kravinoff

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | high school wrestler!dmitri x childhood friend/enemy!reader

synopsis | you help dmitri with wrestling practice and it ends just like it always does.

warnings | 18+, nsfw, wrestler!dima, childhood friend/enemy!reader, dubious consent, verbal humiliation, physical humiliation, wrestling, daddy/mommy issues, titty sucking, wedgies, dry humping, and mean!dmitri.

word count | 2.5k

a/n | this is probably going to be a series, not exactly a multichapter fic but i love this dynamic a lot and want to write more with this pair!! sorry again about the lack of fics, my job is really beating my ass rn.

taglist | @zoovweemomma @marinaluciarossi @Loveeatsleep @mysunshinemyangel @simonsrealwife @janis01127 @sodapop11 @medievalharlot @samslvrgirl @deadpoetsharbor @alexa0813 @kawaii1kitten @spookyscarydemonbabe you can join my taglist here!! if you filled out my old taglist form please fill out the new one, thank you!!

“C’mon, my roommate’s gone for the rest of the weekend and I need my practice dummy now,” Dmitri demands, clutching your upper arm as he practically drags you down the hall. This was your routine at this point, ever since he’d started wrestling you had become his “practice dummy” as he liked to call you. 

You groan, still trying to drag yourself out of his grasp. Unfortunately for you all of his wrestling practice had made him bulk up a bit and his grip was iron strength. “Can’t this wait till tomorrow? I have homework!”

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t care, you’re helping me with this now.” He holds you in place as he unlocks the door and shoves you inside, causing you to stumble a bit. You throw your bag onto his bed and watch as he takes his time removing his bag. “Go on, get into position.” He doesn’t even look at you when he speaks to you. You’re not sure if it’s his way of trying to fuck with you but by now you know to obey when he gives you an order.

You reluctantly get into the position he’d taught you a few weeks ago, you always felt stupid when you’d do it. You weren’t sure why he kept choosing to practice with you, you hadn’t absorbed a single thing he’d taught you, you were an easy target, that’s probably why he kept losing all his matches. “So are we gonna do this or-“

Before you can finish your sentence he’s diving for your legs, tackling you to the ground. You let out a grunt as you feel the wind get knocked out of you. You’re quick to try and scramble back to your feet but it seems he’s been paying attention in his actual practices. He’s able to keep you down with ease, crawling on top of you and caging your limbs in with his own. His legs squeeze tight around yours and he’s quick to grab your wrists and pin them above your head with one hand. 

You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t arousing that he could so easily have you restrained like this. He’d done it often, using you for practice as weeks and each time it got you going like you could’ve never imagined. You’d stumble back to your dorm room and slink off into the shower to use the shower head the way god definitely hadn’t intended. You’d never admit to anyone that you had a thing for the spoiled Kravinoff kid, as far as everyone else knew you hated his guts. He was a complete menace to you daily, always picking at your outfits and sometimes going as far as humiliating you in the halls. He’d pulled your skirt up more times than you could count and always had a snarky thing to say about whatever underwear you’d worn that day. 

Dmitri has picked on you for years, going as far back as your childhood together. You were forced to be friends, your families being frequent collaborators in their less than legal businesses. He’d always teased you, pulled at your hair, found something to make fun of you for. You were convinced it had been his life's mission to make yours hell. You thought you’d gotten away at age 12, moving to America and starting at a new boarding school far far away from the Kravinoff family. But it just was just your luck that only a few years later Dmitri would end up being sent there as well as Sergei. He’d immediately set his sights back on you, eager to pick up where you’d left off. 

“Okay! You won, get off!” You groan, using your hips to try and lift yourself up off the ground and buck him off of you. All that had managed to do was grind your ass against his crotch. He slammed his hips down hard against you, squeezing his legs tighter against yours as he held you down.

“Nope. I’m pretty comfortable here actually,” he hums. You could already tell where this was going. He reaches down with his free hand, slipping it into the back of your jeans. You were fucked. His fingers curled around the cotton fabric. You’d worn a pair of cotton briefs that had a thick waistband, they were practically a handle for him to grab onto. His movements are slow but precise. He wants to inflict as much pain as he can, you know by now just how hard it gets him.

He pulls up on your waistband slowly, you bite your lip and curl your fingers into the carpet as you brace for the familiar burn of cotton pulled between your cheeks. You can’t help but squirm as you feel the sides of the leg holes cut into your delicate flesh, there’ll be marks later. You’ll look at them and touch yourself to the memory of how he debased you for his own amusement. 

He stretches the fabric expertly, the once full back panties practically turning into a thong from how he wrenches them up. You grit your teeth as you feel your cheeks pulled apart, the rough fabric pressed tight against your puckered hole. “Christ, you never learn. Still wearing these dorky undies, I told you to buy something cuter last time, didn’t I?” He taunts.

You whine, hiding your embarrassed face on the carpet. “Yes, you did. But I-”

He pulls up even harder now, the waistband at your mid back and the leg holes peeking out of your jeans. It was humiliating and incredibly painful with how tight the fabric was against your most sensitive areas. “No, no buts. I gave you an order and you disobeyed me. If you know what’s good for you then you’ll shut your mouth and take it.” He grinds his hips against your ass as he grabs the leg holes of your panties, using them like handles to wrench the fabric up even higher now. “I should start calling you a nerd, that’s basically what you are for wearing these things. This is why you’re still a virgin, you really think someone wants to fuck a nerd who spends her time getting wedgied like a loser? God, maybe I need to move onto swirlies next, really get it through your head what a loser you are for wearing these.”

Your eyes go wide and you lift your head up just enough to look back at him, “N-No! Don’t, I’ll buy new underwear I swear!” You could already imagine the humiliation it would bring you if he’d go through with it. 

He’s strong enough to overpower you now, it would be so easy for him to do. You wonder if he’d drag you by your underwear or maybe by your hair…maybe both, a hand in your hair and another wrapped around your waistband. He’d drag you into the bathroom, the carpet burning at your knees and screeching as your skin slid across the tile. He’d hold your face over the toilet, threatening to shove your head inside the porcelain bowl. “C’mon, go for a swim.” He’d dunk your head into the bowl, holding your head in place as he lets go of your overly stretched underwear to flush. The thought of the cold disgusting water swirling all around you, invading your nose and seeping into your skin and hair was enough to make you gag. 

“You better, you know I’m not bluffing.” He’s not, he always would follow through when it came to you. He tugs at your panties until they’re pulled right up to your neck. Every little movement you make just intensifies the pain, it feels like someone’s pulled a string up your ass and it’s almost unbearable. He finally lets go of the fabric, it snaps back down against your skin but stays wedged in place. Thanks to how tight your jeans fit it’ll be impossible to dig the fabric out from between your cheeks without fully removing your jeans. 

Just when you think he’s about to climb off of you he flips you over onto your back, using his legs to hold yours apart. He presses his crotch against yours, he’s semi-hard now. He lets go of your hands but you keep them in place obediently. He grinds himself against you, smirking down at your helpless figure. “You really are like a practice dummy, you barely even fight back. This is the most anyone has ever touched you, isn’t it? Better be grateful a guy like me would even look in your direction.” Dmitri moves to unbutton and unzip your jeans, tugging them down just a little to see your front waistband.

He reaches forward, gripping the front waistband tight as he straddles you once again. “Can’t leave her out, can I? That would just be mean…” He gives it a quick tug, smiling down at how your face contorted in pain. The fabric pulls taut against your cunt, threatening to part your lips and invade your most sensitive area. The pressure it’s putting on your clit is a confusing mix of pain and pleasure. “This is probably the closest anyone has ever gotten to playing with you down here, hm? I bet it’s still gonna get you wet, you’ll probably take whatever you can get at this point.” 

He pulls slowly, the drawn out pain causing you to lift your hips to try and escape it. It’s no use, he’s got you pinned and he has no plans of letting you go until he’s done with you. He leans down as he pulls, starting to plant kisses along your jawline. He pulls even harder now, nipping at your jaw as he does. He continues to grind against you while he plays with your cunt. “You’re always so good for me. I'm starting to think you actually like when I treat you like this,” he chuckles.

You bite your lip, rolling your eyes at his cockiness. “Shut up, Dima. I do not like th-” 

He cuts you off by pulling even harder, the fabric finally forcing itself between your lips, now painfully lodged against your slit. It’s so sudden that your body reacts before your brain, your eyes squeezing shut and a moan falling from your lips. Your toes curl and your hips buck up.

“What was that then? The last time a girl did that it’s because my fingers were buried inside her,” he smirks, “You didn’t even earn my fingers. You just get these stupid. dorky. panties.” He punctuates each word with a tug, the fabric moving against your clit 

You groan in pain as he moves onto your neck. He sucks and bites at your skin, doing his best to mark you up, occasionally pulling away to blow at where he’s nipped. You can feel yourself soaking the fabric that’s pressed so tight against your holes and your body feels like it’s on fire from embarrassment. “Fuck you, Dmitri!” You whimper, you sound so pathetic that you can’t help but cringe at yourself. 

He moves his thumb to toy with your clit lazily as he humps you. He keeps your panties pulled taut as he toys with you. “In your dreams, you don’t deserve my dick,” he mumbles, against your neck. He pulls away for a minute to lift your shirt, pulling down your bra to expose your breasts. He dives back down to kiss the newly exposed flesh. He doesn’t mean what he says, he’s spent countless nights in the dorm shower thinking of how you’d feel, how you’d sound when he finally gave you what you both wanted. 

“You don’t deserve my pussy or my tits, or any of me,” you shoot back in annoyance. You know he can be harsh, especially on bad days. You’d overheard him on the phone with his father when you passed him in the hallway that morning. You could faintly hear Nikolai screaming at Dmitri over the phone, your chest aching as you saw his face scrunch up and his shoulders hunch. You knew he didn’t deserve your pity but there was part of you that still cared for him. Maybe you were just as fucked up as he was. You’d feel guilty every time you’d go back to your room after your little wrestling sessions, you’d feel guilty as you shoved your hand between your thighs and thought of how he’d humped you and pinned you down and insulted you. 

He glares at you, nipping at the sensitive flesh around your nipple, increasing the pressure against your sensitive clit. “You know who my father is, I deserve whatever I want,” he snaps. 

You roll your eyes, whining softly as he speeds up his motions against your clit. “Entitled as ever, Dmitri.”

“Pathetic as ever, loser,” he fires back before licking your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his face harder against your breast. He wraps his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking at it as he grinds down against you. You throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut as you moan in pleasure. 

You regain enough composure to speak, “I like you better like this, you’re a good boy when you’re quiet.” You relish in your temporary control over him. It’s short lived as he bites down softly on your nipple, causing you to yelp. You can practically feel him smirking against you. “Oh fuck you! I hope you lose your next match!” 

You’re both worn out and sensitive, close to your releases. He pulls away from your nipple, taking a second to blow on the sensitive skin. “If I do it’s your fault, lousy fucking pratice dummy,” he mumbles against your breast. He buries his face in your breasts as he speeds up his motions. 

You shamelessly let your whines and moans fall from your lips, “Maybe if you didn’t dry hump me every time you’d get better at this shit…and at least I show up, I cheer you on even though you get your ass handed to you every goddamn match.”

He nips at your breast again, practically telling you to shut up. “I’m gonna win this time and when I do I’m gonna fuck you under those bleachers…gonna show you how strong I am, how good I am…tell me I’m good…tell me I’m good…” His speech is devolving quickly, he’s close and so are you. You can feel your cunt clenching around the fabric. 

You whimper before speaking, “You’re so good Dima, you’re…you’re gonna win and show everyone just how good you are…” your eyes squeeze shut as you bite your lip softly. “Such a good boy, so strong…makes me feel so good always…even when you’re mean I can’t help but-” You’re cut off by your orgasm ripping through you, the pinch of Dmitri’s fingers around your clit being the final push you needed. 

His is quick to follow, as it rips through him he can’t help but wrap his lips around your breast again, sucking the sensitive bud as he sloppily ruts himself against you. He continues until his body finally calms, but he doesn’t pull away from your breast entirely. He lays his head against it like a pillow, drooling against your warm skin. “I-I’m gonna win tomorrow, I swear…”

Your hand comes up, carding your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I know you will Dima, I’ll be there to see it…promise.”

[cherrysweets-world]

Eyes of the Gods XII

series masterlist - part eleven

Pairing: Caracalla x fem!Reader x Geta

Summary: You rise to the challenge set before you.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unhealthy relationships, controlling behavior, threesome, biting, breeding kink, period typical sexism, obsessive/possessive/ relationships, talk of pregnancy, historical inaccuracies, manipulative behavior, jealousy, past domestic/child abuse, unedited - there are many, many historical inaccuracies here so don’t read if that will bother you!

Word Count: 8.1k

Caracalla's room was oddly dark given the time of day. It was as though the sunlight itself was too afraid to enter the emperor's chambers, instead lingering just outside, peeking anxiously in.

The room smelt strongly of blood. You swallowed, almost tasting the iron on your tongue. You stole a quick glance at Geta over your shoulder. He placed a firm hand on the small of your back, steering you further into his brother's room. It was quite clear that he expected you to be the one to deal with him.

This was, after all, your fault.

There, surrounded by shattered pottery and broken ornaments, was Caracalla. There was blood everywhere you looked, smeared throughout the room. It looked as though Mars himself had crushed the entire room in his grip and left only destruction.

Caracalla was on the floor in the centre of it all. One foot was swinging back and forth but the rest of him was entirely still. His gaze was trained steadily on the ceiling and you could hear him muttering something to himself, perhaps a rhyme.

Geta’s hand was still on your back. Even if you wanted to turn back, he would not let you.

You stopped at the edge of the room, where the chaos began. “Caracalla?”

His foot stopped swinging. Slowly, his head turned until he was staring directly at you. His eyes were eerily clear. Once they were trained on you it was hard to fight off the shiver that was trying to claw its way up your spine.

A muscle in his face twitched. Gradually his arm rose from his side until he was holding it out, palm facing you. His fingers curled, beckoning you closer.

Tentatively, you tip-toed your way through the destruction. Caracalla had settled himself in the small amount of space in which there was no glass and you met him there, crouching down beside him. His eyes sparkled like rare jewels, tracking your every move.

You placed your hand in his, trying to ignore the slight quiver in your fingers. His palm was warm, slightly clammy. For a moment he just stared up at you, eyes darting over the planes of your face.

“Caracalla- “you began.

He used your hand to yank you toward him and pull himself up at the same time. Your chests collided with an audible thump and you had barely a moment to register his face buried in the side of your neck before he was biting down. Hard.

You cried out and pushed feebly against his chest. Geta moved somewhere in your periphery but did not come closer. Seconds ticked by like minutes until he finally unclamped his jaw from your neck, leaning back until he could stare up into your sweating face.

“You left,” his lips curled.

You could see your own blood smeared across his lips, his teeth. Your neck throbbed but you did not reach up to touch it.

“I came back,” you said simply.

“Does not matter,” his hand squeezed yours, “the Praetorians would have returned you to us sooner or later. You left.”

“I was afraid,” you told him honestly, “Afraid for any child I might have. Our child. I – I could not see how such a vulnerable thing could survive such a place.”

Caracalla’s lips thinned, his eyes darting over your shoulder before settling back on you. “Our mother and father never cared about such things.”

It was a heavy statement. You had heard things, of course, about the father of the emperors but. . .

“How would you feel?” you pulled his hand down to rest on your stomach. “How would you feel if you knew someone wanted to hurt our child?”

His nostrils flared. “They would burn for even entertaining the thought.”

“I may not be with child,” you admitted, “but, it would only be a matter of time. I was afraid and I – I could not think clearly. As soon as I regained control of my head I returned. I do not intend to leave again.”

Caracalla laughed, the sound raspy and broken. “As though you could.”

His tongue ran over his lips, chasing the flavour of your blood. Geta had crept closer and you could feel him looming over you. You should have felt trapped. Instead, you felt safe.

“I knew you would return,” Caracalla continued, “I prayed to the gods and they heard me.”

You let him take your hand once more, let him place it against his chest. You could feel his heart thudding beneath his clothing. It was as if it wanted to leap right out into your palm.

“I prayed for other things, too,” he murmured, tilting his head.

“What did you pray for?” you whispered.

Caracalla’s hand delved into the folds of his tunic, beneath the neckline. You saw the glint of something gold at his neck and then a pop as it snapped. He pulled out his hand to reveal a ring, gold and glinting, between his fingers.

You blinked repeatedly, half expecting the tiny thing to disappear before your very eyes. Caracalla gripped your hand tightly and pushed the ring down, down, until it was very firmly on your finger.

“The empress of Rome cannot very well abandon her people,” Geta said, “or her husbands.”

The band was thick and engraved with several symbols A winged infant, a pomegranate and studded with tiny jewels; it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You did not feel worthy.

“How can I -?” bewildered, you looked between the two for answers.

“Officially, you will marry Caracalla,” Geta scowled, “but you are also mine. We know it, you know it.”

Geta still sounded bitter over the fact and it would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t still so confused. Caracalla had lifted your hand to his face and was busy admiring the ring when he wasn’t nipping at your fingertips.

“I meant,” you tried again, “how could you marry me? I am nothing –“

“You have become everything,” Geta interrupted, insistent. “It is only fitting that your position reflects this. As far as anyone knows, you are a Lady.”

That, you doubted. Surely you were not so quiet that no senators would recognise you? And the slaves, the Praetorians, they would talk.

You focused your attention back on Caracalla. There would be time to further question him and Geta on their plans later. You felt as though if you ignored him for too long, Caracalla would be quick to set his teeth to your skin again.

Caracalla tapped the ring. “Do you know why this is the finger that the ring is placed upon?”

“I do not,” you admitted.

“This finger contains the vein of love,” Caracalla eyed you carefully. “Though I am not sure you possess it, so cruel you were in leaving us. Perhaps I should slice it open and see it for myself.”

There was that cruel edge in his voice again. His anger seemed to seep from his pores, drawing guilt from you in return.

“It is there,” you leaned close, “I know it.”

“How?” Caracalla brushed his nose against yours, so close that you could only make out the blue of his eyes.

“When I look at you,” you breathed, “I can feel it. Just there, thrumming against my bones. You make it sing.”

Caracalla eyes were wide, his lips parting. “Show me.”

It was hard to say exactly how you made it to the bed. Geta took the lead and you followed closely behind with Caracalla. You dared not take your eyes off him. You could see the war going on inside of him; that wrath colliding with desire. You knew which side you wanted to win and you were not willing to leave it to chance.

Geta was quiet. You could sense the jealousy brewing in him but he seemed to understand that his brother was barely tethered to reality. You met his eyes as you dropped onto the bed and hoped he could see the emotion in your eyes.

Geta pulled you backwards until your back was flush against his chest and you were settled between his legs. Even with all the clothing in the way you could feel his warmth. He blew air over the bite mark his brother had left behind and you flinched, reminded of the task at hand.

Caracalla stood at the end of the bed, swaying slightly as though drunk. His eyes were heavy as he watched you wriggle out of your clothes until you were bare before him. This was no place for embarrassment or coyness so you shoved both to the side, determined to do what he had asked.

“Come here, please?” you raised your hands.

As though in a trace, Caracalla crawled onto the bed, eyes glued to your face. You knew that if there was so much as a hint of regret or dishonesty that he would lash out. You kept your face open and honest, allowing the very real yearning you were experiencing to seep through.

Geta drew his knees up, allowing more room for his brother who had stopped between your knees. His eyes dipped, searching and hungry, before coming back up on your face.

You leaned forward and carefully took his left hand in yours, bringing it to rest upon your breast. His palm was firm against your nipple, drawing a languid sigh from your lips.

“Can you feel that?” you asked. “My heart?”

“Yes,” he swallowed dryly, “it feels like a bird. So fast.”

“It’s for you.”

You dragged his hands lower, lower, until his fingers were pressed against your cunt. Already you could feel your own arousal starting to leak out. It coated Caracalla’s fingers, making it harder to remember the point you were trying to make.

“This is for me as well?” he asked.

“Yes,” you quivered, allowing one more moment before pulling his hand up to rest on your stomach. “And this. My womb.”

Caracalla’s fingers left tiny smears of wetness as he touched your stomach, jaw going slack. “Yes,” he nodded frantically, enthusiastically, “mine. I will fill it with children, with heirs.”

“As is your right,” you breathed, “as my husband.”

Caracalla choked out a moan, eyes clouded with want. You recognised the feeling in yourself and let your knees fall open, wider, baring yourself to Caracalla and Geta with little shame.

Geta pressed his face into your hair and adjusted himself, grinding his length against your ass. You curled your arm up and around the back of his neck, holding him close as Caracalla tore at his own clothing.

It was a frenzied scene. Limbs knocked against limbs, hair was pulled, teeth were used. Geta slipped his hands beneath your knees to keep your cunt unbarred, his grip tight and unrelenting. You could feel that honey-sweet flutter emerging, working its way through your entire body.

Caracalla’s cock looked painfully hard as he squeezed it in his fist. “My wife,” he said to himself, “I am going to fuck my wife.”

You tilted your hips, hoping to urge him closer. It worked. He pressed a kiss to your lips, tongue flickering into your waiting mouth as he took and took and took. You were all to happy to give. You could taste your own blood in the kiss and it only heightened the intensity of the kiss.

His cock brushed against your inner thigh, then your puffy lips. With only a slight adjustment, Caracalla was sliding all the way home in a motion that was so quick it almost made you shout. Slight pain pinched at your insides but it was soothed by the alluring feeling of fullness, of belonging.

Caracalla looked unsteadily down at where you were joined. The sight was obscene; the swollen folds of your cunt swallowing down the thickness of his cock like you were born for it. He pulled back slowly until just the tip was left. You would’ve squirmed if Geta hadn’t had such a tight grip on you.

“Take her, brother,” Geta commanded, “she returned to us. Reward her.”

“Yes,” Caracalla agreed, “yes. Reward.”

Caracalla’s hips were flush with yours as he pushed in, all the way to the root. You swore to all the gods that you could feel him in your throat. With Caracalla at your front and Geta at your back there was no escaping.

An unsteady pace was set, Caracalla’s hips snapping into yours as he fucked you dizzy. Your head lolled back onto Geta’s shoulder and he nipped at your earlobes, whispering sweet praises and filthy words directly into your ear. His hands slipped around to your breasts, cupping them and swiping across your nipples with his thumbs.

Caracalla’s head found your shoulder once more, face burying into your neck. Geta urged you to relax, let his brother take what he was owed. Caracalla’s tongue lapped at the wound he had created earlier and he moaned at the metallic taste of your blood.

“Everything,” he shuddered, “I want everything.”

Your own orgasm prickled at your insides but you kept it at bay, allowing Caracalla to fuck into you at a near brutal pace. If you were not with child already then you felt quite certain you soon would be.

“I am yours,” you bit out, reaching up to cup his cheek. The coolness of the ring contrasted greatly with the warmth radiating from his red cheeks. “Your wife.”

Caracalla let out a pathetic mewl, hips slamming into yours for one final time as he emptied himself inside you.

You cupped the back of his head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was difficult to think clearly when you were still so aroused. The thought of Caracalla’s seed inside you was enough to make you feel slightly dazed and delirious.

You cried out as Caracalla slid his softening cock from your cunt. Before any of his seed could spill, he pulled you forward whilst simultaneously lying back until you were draped across his chest. His eyes were wild, cheeks red and slick with sweat. He looked content and you breathed a ragged sigh of relief, letting your cheek press into his chest.

You almost didn’t notice Geta positioning himself behind you until his cock brushed against your ass. You jolted and tried to sit up but Caracalla kept you locked down with his arms until he felt sure you weren’t going to run.

Geta slid his hands under your hips, urging you to your knees. The position was new to you and felt somehow more wanton than before. You knew better than to question them. Your chest began to heave with anticipation, your nipples stimulated by the hairs on Caracalla’s chest. The sensation drove you wild, made you present your cunt as though you were an animal in heat.

“Good girl,” Geta praised, sliding his fingers through the wet mess of you.

You thought that not being able to see might dampen your excitement but, if anything, it made the anticipation all the sweeter. You could hear the erotic sound of him using your wetness to stroke his cock, his breath stuttering out of his chest. Your imagination provided you with countless images; Geta’s hand on his cock, his eyes on your cunt, his head falling back in pleasure.

“Please,” you finally whined, “Geta. Please.”

The head of his cock teased your clit once, twice, until it was almost unbearable. Finally, he allowed himself to be sucked in by your greedy cunt. It was enough to send your orgasm ripping through you, knees going numb against the mattress as you tightened around Geta’s cock.

“Fuck,” he swore. His palm cracked down on the globe of your ass. “Foolish girl, trying to take this away from me.”

“I’m sorry,” you babbled, eyes threatening to roll behind your eyelids. “I’m sorry, Geta, please.”

“Your place is beside us,” he reminded you again, hips slapping against your ass. “Cunt full of cock and belly swollen with child.”

You bit out your eager agreement. If you talked too much you felt as though you were at risk of biting off your own tongue and swallowing it. You remembered that night in the baths with Caracalla, how you had felt as though you would do terrible things if only you could feel this pleasure forever. The thought rose now, burying itself in the forefront of your mind where it could be sure you would not forget it.

Soreness was beginning to spread but it felt delicious, like scratching too hard at an itch that had been bothering you all day. Geta’s hands were fastened at your hips as he fucked you, drawing out sounds you hadn’t even known you were capable of making.

“You are also mine,” Geta rasped. “Do not forget it.”

His palm pressed into the centre of your back as he rode you to his own orgasm, wringing another one out of you with just the pulsing of his cock inside you. Your cunt spasmed around him, urging his seed further inside even as he pulled out of you.

You raised your head unsteadily from Caracalla’s chest, blinking blearily. Caracalla laughed at your expression, reaching down to pinch at your nipples. Geta appeared at your side with a pillow in hand and you were helpless as he pulled you from his brother, arranging you so that you were on your back with the pillow tucked beneath your hips.

“There,” Geta said mildly, “that will help.”

Caracalla curled up at your side like a satisfied cat. Although he seemed tired, he did not close his eyes, nor did Geta on your opposite side.

Your body was already beginning to feel the repercussion of being so thoroughly fucked. You felt as though their fingerprints were surely branded upon your skin. Your body was littered with red marks from teeth and hands and your cunt was beginning to develop a pleasant ache.

“Sleep,” Geta instructed.

“What about you?” you asked.

“We will not until you do,” Geta said, stern. “And I shall remind you now that there are Praetorians outside the door under specific instruction not to allow you to go anywhere.”

“You will tell us if you require something,” Caracalla said, settling a hand onto your stomach. “We heard that it is best you do not move after. It gives the seed a better chance to take root.”

“You are future empress of Rome and mother to our children,” Geta reminded you, staring down at your bare body with firm eyes. “To leave us now would be treason. Sleep, and dream only of us.”

Treason. The very word made you uneasy but not as much as it would have a month ago. You had no intention to betray the emperors.

Your brief time alone had told you where you wanted to be and who you wanted to be with. A cage, perhaps, but gilded it was. It did not feel as difficult as it should have been to settle back into it.

The marriage ceremony was to take place less than two weeks later.

Neither Geta or Caracalla were particularly concerned with how you would be received. They did not believe that anyone would have reason (or the nerve) to question you. This did not deter you from keeping a closer eye on the Praetorians than usual, and seeking eye contact with every slave you passed.

You searched them for malice, judgement, anger. You found none of that, only a quiet acceptance and something like relief. Perhaps that paranoia caused by Macrinus and his hired killer would always be there, stuck to your back, just out of sight but able to whisper in your ear.

Macrinus was dead. Geta had told you after you had woken in the night, sweaty and panicked. You had imagined he was just there, poisoned wine in one had and dagger in the other. He had told you that you must choose. You had woken up before you could.

“I wish I could have been the one to do it,” Caracalla had said, “His corpse is still down there, rotting away. Do you want to see?”

“No,” you had shaken your head, “I believe you.”

Both brothers were kept busy for the majority of the week but that did not mean you were ever left alone. The constant company was grating but you understood that you had brought it upon yourself and so you endured it with a pleasant smile and relaxed demeanor.

Neither of them seemed comfortable unless you were glued to their side. Caracalla seemed intent on continuing to test you, to make sure you were not so much as thinking of leaving them again. He had several outbursts – not at you, but at the Praetorians. Each time he would have a number in his mind, different every time, and if the number of Praetorians outside the door did not match that exact number, then hell would break loose.

Geta took to patrolling the entrances and exits of the palace himself at random times through-out the day. You had woken up at least twice to find his side of the bed empty, leading you to assume that he was conducting his surprise checks at night as well. If he found the level of security unsatisfying, his temper would flare almost as badly as his brother’s.

 The first few days you were with at least one of them at all times. It was better that way, calmer. As the days passed by and they could no longer afford to neglect their duties, you were left with dressmakers and the Praetorians, both of whom were issued deadly threats for if you should so much as get pricked by a pin.

That was where you found yourself now. Never had you been so thoroughly measured and fussed about before. The woman talked lowly amongst themselves, occasionally offering you small smiles and tentative compliments as they fluttered around you.

It was conflicting. You did not have the demeanor of a Lady and you were sure they noticed. You did not feel worthy of the attention nor the clothing. But the women treated you as if you were, and you were beginning to realise that that might just be enough to get you through. Like your attacker had said, this was not really about you. It was about the emperors.

Four Praetorians were scattered about the room. One was Consus, from all those weeks ago. The others were unfamiliar to you, but not for long. They were your personally assigned guards. The emperors had decided it was safer for you to have personal guards; less likely anyone would get loose and reckless when they knew anything that happened to you could be traced directly back to them.

Though you also thought that there was perhaps a second reason. You had been selfish that night, deceiving guards and openly lying to them. Even now you had not worked up the courage to ask if anyone had faced any consequences for your actions that night. It had been easier, then, because you did not know them. They may as well have been faceless ghosts for all the care you had.

You would get to know these men. Their lives, their preferences, their families. It would not be so easy to look them in the eye and throw them to the wolves.

Sabina, a woman a few years older than yourself, held up a hairnet for you to touch. “What do you think, my Lady?”

You reached out to run your fingers over the fabric. It was a sunny colour, the colour of freshly cracked yolks. You had seen yellow before but this seemed far richer. Strands of gold were woven into it, causing it to glitter in the sun, adding depth and texture. It was coarse to the touch and would ensure that your hair was kept out of the way.

“It is beautiful,” you smiled, “you possess true talent, Sabine.”

Sabine flushed under your gaze, her mouth opening and closing several times as though she was nervous. “It is an honour to hear such a compliment from the future empress of Rome. I am sure we will flourish under your rule.”

You hoped so. That was, after all, part of the reason why you had returned. And if you could not do anything for Rome, perhaps your child could. Either way, you would offer your home and your husbands everything you had and pray that the fates would grant you a positive outcome.

The room quietened down as the door opened and Geta entered, robe billowing out behind him as he strode directly in. He looked every bit the young god, hair vibrant and glowing, tall and imposing, eyes once again smeared in that familiar kohl.

Without a word, everyone filed out apart from your personal guard. They positioned themselves by the door, just out of earshot, and politely averted their gazes. You remained up on the raised platform, watching as the emperor approached.

Geta gave you an intensely appraising look, eyes zeroing in on the golden hairnet in your hand. It stood out against the white tunic you were wearing. The tunic was thin, allowing for easier measurements, and your nipples peaked at Geta’s attention.

“My brother wanted to see you,” he said, “but I told him that he would have more than enough time to do that in the upcoming days.”

You rolled your lips together. “I am happy to marry Caracalla. Truly. I – I only wonder – “

“Why him?” Geta interrupted. “Why him and not me?”

That was a question you had been pondering over for almost a week. It did not matter, really. You knew that your relationship with both of them meant more than paperwork or titles or the opinion of others. Simple curiosity had kept the question at the forefront of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to shoulder past it.

“You were meant to be for him,” Geta laughed lightly, mockingly. “I am sure he has mentioned it before. I saw the way you comforted him, the way you were kind when you did not have to be, and I thought that it would be beneficial to have another person able to calm him as I can.”

You remembered that night clearly and now, fondly. At the time your own terror had kept you quick and anxious, desperate to squirm out from under the oppressive weight of their attention. Now you flourished under it, craved it almost above all else. The gods likely thought your mercurial nature was amusing.

 “Less than a day passed, a single interaction, and I wanted you for myself,” Geta reached up, tracing a careful finger over your lips. “I suppose that it is highly fortunate that my brother and I have always shared.”

“Then how did you decide that Caracalla would be the one to marry me?”

“I love my brother,” Geta said, “and I can see that he needs you. Without you, even with me, he experienced only chaos. I would do anything to ensure that he does not have to endure such madness again. Including this.”

“You do not need me, Geta?” you asked quietly.

His lips parted. “You know the answer, enchantress.”

You had done the right thing in coming back. You felt more confident in your decision than ever and relaxed a little, continuing to watch Geta as he stepped back and shot a quick glance over his shoulder at your guards.

“Our father was an unpleasant man,” he said suddenly, bluntly. “I gathered that yours was not so different.”

“How?” you asked, stunned.

“I asked you about your carving once. I asked if your father had made it,” Geta paused, running his tongue over his lip before continuing. “The venom in your voice when you answered reminded me of how I feel about my own father.”

Images of your younger years rose unbidden, clouding your mind with their turmoil and bitterness. Your father had stolen your mother from you and you felt her loss more keenly now, whilst preparing to be married, than you had in years.

“They are gone,” you said firmly, more to yourself than him. “Both of them.”

Geta nodded, seeming to come back to himself a little bit. You were surprised that he would share such things with you but were appreciative of his honesty. It was difficult to speak about; you knew this from experience. Even on days you tried to forget, the most painful of reminders could sneak up on you like assassins and ply you with vicious memories.

“You are the opposite to him in every way,” Geta murmured. “Kindness to his cruelty. Love to his hate. We intend to keep you by our sides for the rest of our lives and your marriage to my brother will help ensure this.”

Geta left, allowing the dressmakers to return to the room and continue their work. The mood was pleasant and light and you allowed yourself to sink into the attention, offering your opinion when necessary and trying on pieces as they constructed them, trying to ignore the nerves that were scraping at your insides.

In a week, you would be married to a man you had once feared.

In a week, you would be empress of Rome.

The intricacies of the ceremony were decided upon, the clothing complete. You were not sure exactly what had been decided upon until the day arrived.

Looking at yourself now, dressed in the clothing of a future empress, you could not help but admire yourself. You certainly looked the part. Now you believed that it may be possible that no-one would question you.

Your hair shone from a combination of careful brushing and expensive oils. Your skin reflected in a similar way; heavily scented and smoothed with creams and oils. Even your nails had been trimmed and shaped, dead skin filed away until you felt like an entirely different person.

After today, you would be. It was easier to let your past slip from your fingers when they were busy reaching out for something else. That was what you focused on; the future. Not just yours, but Rome’s.

Sabine stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Normally dressing you would be the task of a ladies’ maid but the clothing was so delicate and finely crafted that you hadn’t felt right letting anyone other than its creator touch it. You had also contributed where you could, as it was common for a bride to fashion her wedding clothing, but had quickly found you hadn’t the skill for it and instead stepped back and let Sabine do her work.

That, and you had not yet been assigned any maids. Anyone in such close proximity to you had to have been closely vetted and the emperors already felt on edge with you being surrounded by so many people on your wedding week.

The belt at your waist felt sturdy and impossible to ignore. You lifted up your hand and traced the edges with your fingers. It was for Caracalla to undo. After that, you would be joined once more, but as man and wife.

There was still much that was unknown to you. You were aware of all the usual traditions but also knew that you would not be able to take part in most of them. You had tried to pull answers from Geta and Caracalla several times but they had brushed you off with soft assurances and teasing pinches.

You smoothed your hands over the front of the white toga. The sensation was pleasantly cool despite the heat of the late afternoon.

The streets were abuzz with people. It was no secret that there was to be a wedding. You were aware of the sacrifice offered to the gods, a bull slaughtered, and the sharing of food and drink in the streets below. The mouth-watering scent of roasted meat floated in through the windows. It should have been appealing but your own nerves were stamping out your appetite.

Sabine had retreated to the door and was exchanging quiet words with Consus. Your brows furrowed at the discreet conversation and you tilted your head, hoping to pick up on a word or two.

Sabine returned with a light cloak. It was as dark as night. She looked to you for permission before wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling it close at the front to hide any glimpse of white. The hood was tugged up over the gold of your hairnet. You looked like a secret, concealed and tucked away.

“I shall pray for your good fortune,” Sabine smiled.

Surrounded by your guards, you were led from the palace and to a discreet carriage, empty apart from a driver. It was plain, the type you regularly saw around Rome. You glanced at them for some sort of answer but they only ushered you inside. One joined the driver at the front and the other three slipped in beside you, looking uncomfortable and warm in their uniforms as they tried to settle in.

There was a jolt as the carriage began to move. “Consus,” you tried again, “where am I being taken?”

“The emperors wish for Rome to welcome you as the empress you will be,” he said simply.

His answer was not entirely helpful. With a sigh, you sat back in your seat. When you reached up to remove the hood, Consus shook his head.

So, you were a secret. The lengths that the emperors would go to in order to disguise your past from prying eyes was not unexpected. You looked down at your hands in your lap, slowly unclenching your fists until your hands were open, fingers shaking.

There, you said to yourself, I am letting go.

You rode in the carriage for quite some time. You kept looking to Consus for information but he would not provide it. Eventually the carriage rolled to a stop. When you rose to your feet, Consus stopped you.

“Oh,” you said, hands raising to your cloak. With unsteady fingers, you unwound the ties and gently tugged it off.

The air was warm and soothing, softly curling around your arms as you stepped from the carriage. The sun had begun to set; you had not realised it was quite so late in the day. You were surrounded by fields, all empty. Likely any workers had been removed specifically so you could come here safely. Above you there was an archway, and at it’s peak, a wolf and two suckling children.

“Romulus and Remus,” you said to yourself.

Your own carving had looked almost identical to the one marking the entrance to the city. You wondered if your grandfather had been here, if it was this that had inspired him to make one for his daughter. You paused, searching for a feeling, a sign, that your mother was perhaps with you.

There was another carriage in front of you, only this one was not so plain. Outlined with colourful paints and murals, this was the carriage of a noble. This would be the carriage that would take you back to Rome.

Even with the distance you could still hear the city. You looked at it and thought of the emperors that inhabited it, the emperors who were waiting for you now. You had left Rome the daughter of a murdered woman, a simple kitchen worker, lover to the emperors. You would be entering as the its empress.

The Praetorians seemed to sense the enormity of the moment as they did not rush you, instead allowing you to watch the sun a moment more. Every time you turned or took a step they would tense, ready to detain you. In the end you stood still, admiring the view with an unsettling feeling that this would be the last time you would ever see it exactly like that. The sun would not change, of course, but you would.

An instrument sounded in the distance, the sound of trumpet. They echoed across the fields and reverberated through the city.  Your lips parted at the sight of a hundred torches being lit – for you. To guide you into Rome. The Praetorians did not have to tell you that now was the time. You could see it. You could feel it.

You set your shoulders back, trying to emulate the posture you often saw on noblewomen. Consus opened the door and you set forth without pause. The interior of the carriage was more comfortable than the one previously. You kept your body as still as you could, apart from your index finger, which you tapped against your leg.

As the carriage approached the city once more, you peeked anxiously out of the small window. It was mostly shielded by gauzy curtains but you were still able to catch a glimpse of the world outside. The closer you got to the city, the more Praetorians you saw. They lined the roads and were quick to snuff out any fights or eager citizens.

And the people – the sheer amount of them left you reeling. It was a mystery to you that you had been able to sneak out of the city at all. For every Praetorian there was at least five people. They craned their necks to get a glimpse of your carriage, a glimpse of you. Heart pounding, you pressed your back against your seat.

Consus cleared his throat. “Perhaps. . .you might try waving?”

Waving. Yes, you could wave. With an audible gulp, you sat forward once more and raised your hand, hoping the jolting of the carriage would hide its shakiness. If possible, the crowd got louder. People threw their hands up in response, smiling and pointing.

That was how you wanted them. Entertained, content. Anything to avoid their ire. Keep the emperors calm, keep them blithe, and you may just be able to do that. The pressure was quickly mounting but you were determined to shoulder the burden.

The imperial palace loomed over you once more. The crowds thinned out as you arrived, likely for the safety of the emperors and yourself. They were still close enough to see, and you felt them collectively inhale as the carriage rolled to a stop.

Cheers rose as Caracalla emerged from the palace. He flashed his gold-toothed grin, regal and immaculate in his toga virils. A wreath was perched amongst his unruly curls and his toga was embroidered with what looked like golden thread.

Your breath snagged in your throat as he arrived at the door of the carriage, pulled it open and held out his hand. You met his eyes and lifted your hand but did not place it in his. It felt as though your knees were about to collapse right out from underneath you.

“You are certainly playing the part of the unwilling bride,” Caracalla cackled once before a sober expression settled over his features. “Come to me, wife.”

You got to your feet and settled your hand in his. He helped you from the carriage with an eagerness that almost made you forget the hundreds of people that were watching. Would they know that you were one of them?

You looked down at your clothing and then up at the red-headed emperor before you. Perhaps you had not been one of them for quite some time.

Caracalla shuddered at the sight of you in your wedding clothes, blue eyes darting over you as though he could hardly take it in. His hand clenched tightly around yours as he pulled you closer, closer, until your shoulders were brushing.

The crowd was quieter now, murmuring amongst themselves. You dared not even spare them a glance as Caracalla led you up the steps, further into the palace. You thought you saw Geta, grim-faced and jealous, but Caracalla would not allow you to take your eyes off of him.

As you entered the palace, you felt the eyes of the crowd dropping from you one by one. They were replaced by the eyes of the gods, judgemental and amused. You would not be here, if not for them, steered by a hundred tiny choices that could have been different but had led to you being here.

Empress of Rome.

The room Caracalla led you to was not one you had been to before. As always, the door was full of incredibly carvings and details but one in particular stood out. A woman, regal and tall. On one arm was a shield, in the other she held a pomegranate. Juno.

Caracalla tugged you into the room with an insistence you could not ignore. The room was lowly lit and not as big as you were expecting. In it’s centre was a lectus, draped with fabrics and with a pillow at either end. It was clear what was expected of you, but you felt no dread; only the low rumblings of desire beginning to chase away your anxieties.

You gasped as Caracalla whirled, crowding you up against the door and nosing at your jawline. “Hello, wife.”

Wife. Your heart seemed to pause for a moment before resuming. Caracalla’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright and keen. Already his hands were grasping at your arms, your waist, your ass. You could not help but arch into his touch.

“Husband,” you greeted, dusting a kiss across his bitten lips.

He giggled, the sound contrasting with the serious nature of your surroundings. It helped you relax more, melt further into his wandering hands and insistent mouth.

Your mind strayed, latching instead onto the other twin. Geta. Where was he? Although this marriage was happening with his approval it had been clear he was not entirely pleased. His love for his brother was admirable and softened you further.

Caracalla’s mouth found the scarred remnants of the bite mark he had left weeks earlier. His teeth slotted into it perfectly, dragging sweet pain down your spine and into your stomach. You stayed still, allowing him to continue mouthing at the mark.

“You are thinking of him,” he pulled away a little, “I can tell.”

Caracalla pouted and you quickly reached up to cup his cheek with your hand. “You are my husband, Caracalla. Tonight, I will be just yours.”

A pleased grin tugged at the edges of his lips as his hands slid to your upper thighs, urging you to hike one around his waist. Your toga was dragged up, and up, and up until you could feel his arousal pressing against you.

Caracalla’s eyes fluttered. It felt as though the room got hotter as he considered your position and the budding of your arousal that he could no doubt feel. He let your leg drop down to the floor before taking your hands again and almost dragging you to the lectus.

His hands found the knot at your waist. He admired it for only a second before pulling at it almost violently. He tossed it carelessly to the floor before placing his hand on your chest, pushing you down and back until you were laid out on the lectus beneath his greedy gaze.

The position seemed to change something in Caracalla. His hands clenched and unclenched, his jaw working furiously as he stared at you. The torches cast golden light over his face, orange flames caressing his pale skin as the moments stretched on.

“Is this real?” he finally asked, gazing down at you with a yearning so strong it made your eyes water.

“This is real,” you whispered, holding up your hand. Your ring glinted in the light, drawing his attention. “You gave me this, remember?”

Caracalla took your hand, first placing it on his chest before dragging it up to his face. His tongue flickered at your ring finger before he took it into his mouth, sucking at the digit as he palmed at his cock with his spare hand.

You squeezed your thighs together for relief, a whimper escaping your throat before you could catch it. Caracalla bit lightly at your finger before pulling away.

“Tell me you love me,” he breathed, crouching down beside you.

He watched your mouth with searching eyes, desperate hands clutching at your white toga. The arousal was coming off of him in waves, each one threatening to knock you and drag you down with it. It felt like a physical thing, filling the room until you had no choice but to breathe it in.

“I love you, Caracalla,” you answered.

 In the quiet of the room, it echoed. You saw the words hit him, saw him soak them up and swallow them down.

“I shall never want for anything ever again,” he rasped, “for you have given me everything.”

When he fell into your arms, it was unbelievably gentle. There was an underlying firmness to his touch that you knew would not allow for protests or pushing away. You held still as he peppered kisses across the planes of your face, as he got acquainted with your body not as a lover, but as a husband.

He took the liberty of freeing you from your clothing before attending to himself. He climbed on top of you, nestled between your thighs as though he belonged there. There was no discomfort or self-consciousness as his hands dragged over your skin, skillful ministrations preparing you to be taken by him.

You could feel yourself, wet and clenching. Caracalla did not tease you; he entered your cunt with a swiftness you had not expected. There was a twinge as you adjusted to his thickness, hands tight around his forearms as he began to pump in and out.

It felt like more the fucking. It felt like something divine, something you had been made for. Like the first gasp of air after being underwater; you could not stop your sounds, could not stop your encouragements as he increased his pace.

“Tell me again,” he pleaded, “tell me.”

“I love you,” you bit out, “Caracalla, my husband, I love you.”

Every time you thought he might be able to spill over the edge he would paise, chest heaving, and lavish attention upon your breasts. Your nipples were stiff under his tongue, between his fingers, and you could already feel the beginnings of bruises on the soft flesh.

It was hard to say when it was really over. Caracalla wrung orgasms from you as though it was his god-given gift, leaving you clenching and shuddering around him as his fingers rubbed tight circles into your swollen clit. He followed you over the pulsing edge several times but did not seem to tire. He seemed determined to make sure you left the room with the beginnings of life budding in your womb.

You were helpless and could do nothing but lie there and allow yourself to be split apart on his cock. Every thrust sent him deeper, his head nudging at a place that made you see stars. Even as you began to squirm and whine, he did not stop, pinning you down with a hot hand between your breasts.

Your orgasm rippled out from that place deep inside you, urging you to lock your ankles around Caracalla’s hips to keep him close as he pumped inside of you. Your eyelids slammed closed involuntarily as your back arched almost painfully up off the lectus, hands scrabbling for purchase as he squeezed you dry.

I must have pleased the gods, you thought, if this is to be my fate.

At some point, after what felt like hours, fatigue reared its head and rose to snatch the both of you down into thick sleep. Whilst drifting you were aware of his warmth on top of you, head resting between your breasts, his hair dusting your chin with every inhale.

You were also aware when the door opened, a familiar figure slipping in. Your eyes slowly opened as Geta approached, staring down at the pair of you whilst twisting at the rings on his fingers. His nostrils flared at the picture the pair of you no doubt painted.

Without a word, you held out your hand and beckoned him closer. Something like relief spread across his pale features as he settled on his knees beside the lectus, lifting your hand to press a reverent kiss on back. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture.

“Do not neglect me,” he warned you. “Empress.”

“I could not,” you answered honestly.

With careful arrangement and much grumbling from Caracalla, Geta was able to wedge himself on the lectus with both of you. It was a warm tangle of limbs and mouths and always reaching hands. In your mind, it was a true reflection of your union, of your connection to the emperors.

So deeply entwined that even the gods could not tear you apart. You closed your eyes again and let your mind be seduced by sleep.

In the morning, you would take your place beside them both as empress of Rome. You would begin your lessons with tutors, meet senators, sit beside your lovers on a throne of your own. You would look to the people, hold their gaze, and you would not flinch.

Authors Note - please, please let me know your thoughts. This was a beast of a chapter to write and I can’t believe it’s the end!

This was always how I intended to end it. I kinda see this entire fic as a prequel towards the rest of their lives?

If you have questions or thoughts (be kind) do not hesitate to send asks!

Please reblog, comment, like, etc if you enjoyed. Interaction is what keeps me motivated!♥️

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[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

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[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Salty Kisses ⭑

Masterlist

A/N: We are all in desperate need of Quinn fics!!

Pairing: Quinn Mossbacher x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, +18 mdni, smoking weed, Olivia being a bitch, nudes, mastrubation (m), making out, heavy petting, p in v sex, handjob, sort of public sex, creampie.

Summary: Joining your best friend Olivia on vacation meant facing your crush on her brother once again, but this year, you would make a move.

Word count: 7.6K (My longest one shot yet)

“Oh my god, who are these people?” Olivia sighed next to you. Looking at her from the corner of your eye, you smiled. She had a flair for the dramatics and could be a bit self important but you have known her since elementary school. After quickly becoming best friends, you often were allowed to accompany her and her family on their luxurious vacations.

This year was no exception as you had joined them on their vacation to Hawaii. Even though you felt like you and Olivia had slightly drifted apart, you joined them anyway. She was two years older than you but she had always said how that didn’t matter to her, and how mature you were for your age.

After a draining flight and almost losing your luggage at the pickup, you were glad to be relaxing on the boat. Both you and Olivia had separated yourselves from the other passengers, her parents and brother included. 

As you peered down at them from the heightened open cabin up top, you secretly checked out her brother. Quinn was a special type, and you’ve always had a thing for pathetic and nerdy boys. So how could you help yourself when your best friend had a brother exactly like that?

“So those two,” Olivia suddenly spoke up again, nodding towards the newlyweds at the back of the boat, “they just got married in the Hamptons. Her parents have a place there.” 

You observed the obnoxious couple taking cringey selfies. “I bet they met on Raya.” You added with a grin. 

“Totally.” Olivia smiles, both of you watching as the woman hangs off of her new husband. “She’s in fashion.” Olivia then announces. “Marketing.” You correct her. “He went to Dartmouth, international finance.” You add. Watching as Olivia’s dad takes a picture for the couple. 

“She loves him but-” Olivia starts.

“He’s got a small dick.” You laugh. Olivia chuckles before adding, “He’s a closet adderall snorter.” 

“Gives him an edge at work.” You agreed. “Makes his dick even smaller.” Olivia says before the both of you burst out laughing. The couple has no idea as they take even more pictures.

You continue to make up stories about the people that joined you on the boat before Nicole, Olivia’s mom, calls for you. “Hey girls.”

“What mom?” Olivia responds annoyed, the mood between you stale again. “Liv come up front, I think you can see the resort.” Nicole points, gesturing for the two of you to follow her. She was right however, The White Lotus slowly came into view.

Olivia sweetly took your hand to help you off the boat. The wooden dock rocked slightly beneath your feet before you stepped onto solid ground, the warmth of the island air wrapping around you. It felt good to be steady again. 

You exchanged a glance with Olivia, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, maybe amusement, maybe something else. A man with a neatly groomed mustache stood waiting, flanked by resort employees in crisp uniforms, their polite smiles already plastered across their faces.

As you approached them, the moustache man’s smile grew. “Mr. and Mrs. Mossbacher, hello! I’m Armond, the resort manager. Welcome to the White Lotus.” The man, apparently named Armond, greeted you with a thick Australian accent. 

“How was your journey here?” He asked as Nicole accepted the flower necklace from a staff member. You drowned out their conversation as you took another glance at Quinn, who was completely lost in his videogame on his Nintendo. 

When everyone started walking, you hurriedly joined them on the golf cart who was driven by a typical white surfer dude. During the short ride to the resort, you made small talk with Olivia, such as what you would do when you had unpacked, and before you knew it, it was time to get off.

The resort was very impressive, a beautiful calming design that still felt very luxurious. You expected nothing less from the Mossbachers who always booked VIP suites. The room itself was even better, beautifully decorated with a nice balcony and a pull up couch. 

You wondered where Quinn was going to sleep since there were only two designated beds, one for you and Oliva to share and one for her parents in an adjacent room. As you set your stuff down, your question is answered when Olivia orders Quinn to sleep in the tiny kitchen, while her parents are out of earshot of course. 

It surprises you how Quinn actually listens and locks himself in the stuffy room. Olivia pulls you with her and the two of you change into your bikini’s. When you were finished, you checked out the large balcony and agreed on going to the beach. Before you could actually leave, Nicole already called for you.

“Girls!” 

“Yeah?” Olivia responds as you strut back inside. “I would like to talk to you guys about, you know, just some of this clutter. Because this is going to be our common space, and I would love to try to, you know, just clear it out.” Nicole rambles as she walks around moving luggage. 

“Mom! We can take care of it later-” Olivia starts, but before she can even argue further her mom insists on taking care of it now. Of course. 

Nicole pulls open the tiny adjacent kitchen galley and is met with Quinn hunched over on the tiny bed, playing on his phone. “Quinn, why is your bed in here?” She says as she drops the stuff.

“Olivia said I have to sleep here.” Quinn sulkingly responds. Stupid butterflies already swirl in your stomach upon hearing his voice after the long time he hadn’t spoken. 

“Olivia, your brother is not sleeping in the kitchen.” Nicole scolded, turning to the two of you, bags in hand and ready to go. Olivia then walks over to peer inside the room that Quinn was residing in. “Why not?” She shrugs.

“Because it’s a tiny galley kitchen, and we’ve got this whole beautiful room.” Nicole scoffs. Olivia looks inside, Quinn already back on his phone again. 

“Mom, he's doing fine in there. Look, he's stimming. He can entertain himself for hours with just his own hand gestures! He’s fine in the kitchen.” She says sauntering back over to you.

Your brows furrowed at her words, feeling kind of shitty for being in such a beautiful place and then making her brother sleep in a windowless, suffocating room. “Olivia, no!” Her mother argued back, but Oliva already took your hand and led you to the door. 

“Mom you want him to sleep in here with us, he’s gonna jerk off to my best friend while she’s sleeping!” Olivia turned, as her mom stopped the two of you. “I don’t think-” You tried to interject but Olivia cut you off already.

“Mom! He’s fine, he’s being himself, gaming and fapping- and byeee!” Olivia yelled as she now fully pulled you with her out the door. The rest of the afternoon you and Olivia tried to catch as much sun as possible on the beach, occasionally taking a dip in the water to cool off.

As the sun started to set, you headed back to the suite to get dressed for dinner. You chose a beautiful but still casual flowy dress you bought for the vacation, Olivia dressed in shorts and a halter top. You were excited to see how the lobster bake turned out and had gotten quite hungry as you didn’t bring any snacks to the beach.

The outside dining area took your breath away, beautiful lights hung everywhere and you took it all in as you were being led to your table. To your delight, Quinn took a seat next to you and gave you a small smile as you sat down, which of course, you returned. 

You knew Olivia had always been very bitchy towards her brother, it had been normal in their relationship, but you still felt a tiny sting of guilt everytime you didn’t speak up to her about it. You also knew Quinn didn’t have any friends, apart from online, so you always tried to be nice to him.

The food arrived after fifteen minutes, while Olivia started a discussion with you about Hilary Clinton, something you were not entirely in the mood for tonight, but she could get offended if you didn’t indulge. Soon Nicole intervened and Olivia was quick to drop it. 

On your side, you could hear Quinn play one of his video games on his nintendo, finally you gave into the urge to ask him about it, to talk to him about anything. “Quinn, what game are you playing?” You asked sweetly, peering over to look at his screen. Olivia raised a brow at you.

Quinn visibly became red. “Oh uhm, just a game about an assassin, it’s really cool, I’ve been playing it for a while-” He couldn’t even finish talking before his sister cut him off. “Yeah, yeah she gets it. So we should probably head out for that walk you mentioned earlier.” 

You felt bad for Quinn, but remembered what Olivia meant. “Sure yeah. Maybe you can tell me more later, Quinn?” He nodded at your words, his cheeks still flushed as the light of his screen made it more noticeable. 

“Great, let’s go.” Olivia didn’t even ask her parents before she practically jumped out of her seat.

Excusing yourself at least, you followed her. As you joined her side, she led you to one of the younger guys working around the resort. “What did you think about the dude who drove the cart?” She asked with a smile, you already knew where she was heading. 

“Not my type, such a typical smooth brained surfer boy, I can’t with them.” You rolled your eyes. She laughed but composed herself as you approached the cute guy. Olivia had always been a bit obsessed with boys, it was all she could seem to think about, that and weed. 

You stood idly by her side as Olivia put on her flirtatious face and started to talk up the guy. Still, your eyes lingered on Quinn, who remained in your vision a couple feet away. He looked so adorable tonight, his short sleeve blouse really suited him and his hair was curly and messy, secretly just the way you liked it. 

Getting lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt Olivia poke at you. 

“Dude, hellooo? I said let’s go back to the room, I brought some weed we can smoke.” She suggested. 

“Sorry, zoned out a bit. But sure, let’s go.” Olivia followed your earlier line of sight, but she wasn’t convinced you might have been checking out her brother, so she ignored it.

The guy had gone back to serving and you followed Olivia back to the Trade Winds suite. You couldn’t get Quinn out of your mind as you undressed into your pj’s and put your hair up. Olivia rummaged around in one of her bags while you took a seat on your cutely made pull out bed. 

“Where the fuck is this thing.” Olivia cursed, sifting through multiple bags. After a while she found it and joined you with a grin. With a water bong and a ziplock bag of weed in her hands, the party could begin. But before she could stock the thing with the green substance, the door opened. 

Olivia hurriedly shoved it under you guys’ bedsheets and grabbed her phone, pretending to be busy. “Hey girls, already in your pajamas?” Nicole asked as she strolled through the room with her husband, Quinn following behind them. 

“Yeah we just wanted to chill and catch some sleep so we have more energy for the rest of the trip.” You answered. She smiled at you and headed for the bathroom with Mark. Quinn shot you a quick smile before disappearing in the galley kitchen.

After a while, they still remained in their rooms and it was around 10 pm already, Olivia presumed it was safe so she pulled the goods out again. “Fucking finally, sorry my family is so annoying.” She scoffed.

“I think you dislike them more than I do.” You chuckled, pulling out the lighter you had brought. “Sure.” She shrugged. Olivia stacked the bong and took the first hit. The lighter crackling through the quiet room. “Shh.” You giggled. Olivia tried not to laugh while taking another hit, before finally passing it to you.

As the smoke flowed through your throat and into your lungs, you felt a wave of relaxation hit you. You passed the bong back and forth, talking about some guys from school. After about fifteen minutes, you both really felt it. Your brain felt all woozy and fuzzy, your skin like a warm blanket wrapped around you. 

The whole room felt more serene and pretty. It had been a while since you smoked weed and it didn’t take long before you and Olivia giggled quietly among yourselves. “You know what we should do?” She laughed all of a sudden. 

You raised your brows at her. “Truth or dare.” She wiggled her brows at you, causing you to burst out laughing. Shushing you, she leaned in as if she was about to tell you her darkest secret. “You go first.” She whispered. You thought for a moment. “Truth.” 

“Boo you’re so boring.” Olivia giggled. “Whatever, just let me ease into it.” You said, leaning back on your hands. “Fine, have you… ever taken and sent a nude?” She asked with a lower tone, taking caution not to alarm anyone. You rolled your eyes at her.

“God you’re really going to hate this answer- no I have not.” You replied. She looked at you shocked. “Really? But you’re so hot. Like why haven’t you?” Shrugging at her words, you decide to turn the tables. “Truth or dare Livs.” Olivia let it go and picked dare. 

“Okay, I dare you… to go over to the next room and knock on their door!” You giggled. She gasped but climbed off the bed anyway. Sneakily you followed her as she opened the door as quietly as possible. You stayed in the doorway, watching as she quickly knocked and sprinted past you back into the room.

It caused you to close the door quicker and harder than you meant to but luckily no one woke up. As you ran back to the bed, Olivia layed back on, you waited with bated breaths- nothing happened. You then fell into a fit of laughter. 

“Okay you know what, I pick dare too.” You said after a while, the weed pushing you to be more bold. “I know a good one, I dare you, to let me take nudies of you!” She laughed. You cringed at her words. “I’m not sending them to anyone though!” You shrieked.

“Duh! Get up and take those clothes off girl!” Olivia ordered, grabbing your phone and pressing on the camera. You did as she said, the weed completely derationalising you. “Jesus you look hot.” She said, snapping pictures of your naked form.

When she was done, you put on your clothes before she showed them to you. You both crawled back in bed after that, the exhaustion hitting you hard.

Golden sunlight spilled through the grand windows, painting soft patterns across the sheets as you stirred. Just as your mind drifted between dreams and waking, a hand pressed against your shoulder.

“Wake up,” Olivia murmured, her voice groggy with sleep. “We’re getting breakfast soon.”

Sitting up, the door to Nicole and Mark's bedroom opened and they walked in the room, Mark sitting on the edge of you and Olivia’s shared pull out while Nicole checked on Quinn. 

Your mind felt clouded, weighed down by the remnants of sleep and the blurred edges of last night. Flashes of laughter, the ocean breeze, and the smell of weed hang at the edges of your memory, but nothing pieced together quite right.

Then, a sharp voice shattered the quiet.

“What the hell? Quinn! What are you doing on the floor?”

Nicole’s exasperation cut through the morning peace, snapping you into focus. You and Olivia turned your heads in unison, eyes landing on Nicole as she stood, arms crossed, staring down at Quinn with a mix of disbelief and irritation.

You could hear Quinn’s voice from the small galley kitchen. “There’s no air in here.” 

“Olivia!” Nicole shouted, you were in no mood for a fight between them but Nicole surely was. “What?” Olivia groaned, her head falling back on her pillow. 

“Your brother is stroking out in the kitchen!” Nicole stressed. “What? Dad- what the hell are you doing?” You sat up to see Mark massaging his daughter's foot. “You're so beautiful.” Mark muttered. “You're so smart.” He continued. “Don’t you think?” He turned to you. 

“Yeah.” You replied, Nicole now moving a bunch of stuff around in the living room, muttering to herself about the mess you guys made last night. Your heart sank as you noticed the water bong was still on Olivia’s makeshift nightstand. Mark noticed it too.

“Is that a water bong?” 

You turned to Olivia, your heart racing. “Hey, did you guys bring pot on the plane?” Mark asked, Olivia pulling her foot away from him. “We found it on the beach-” “It’s prescription-” Both of you spat out. Mark to your surprise simply rolled his eyes. 

Quinn appeared out of his room with his duvet wrapped around him, “They were partying all night and making weird lesbian noises.” He uttered while walking past, on his way to the bathroom. “We weren’t being lesbians dad.” Olivia sighed. “Uh- okay.” Mark mumbled. 

After Quinn finished getting dressed, you and Olivia changed quickly, eager to start the day. The three of you made your way to breakfast, the scent of fresh coffee and tropical fruit filling the air as you grabbed a quick bite. Conversations buzzed around you, clinking silverware, the occasional burst of laughter, the tranquil energy of resort life.

Once you’d eaten, Olivia’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Let’s check out the pool,” she said, already tugging you toward the suite. Back in your room, you grabbed your swimsuits, a towel, and a book before heading out again, the promise of cool water and warm sun pulling you toward the massive, glittering pools.

As you took in the pool area, your eyes swept over the impressive layout, barstools submerged in cool, glistening water, a shallow kiddie pool, an overwhelming number of lounge beds, and a designated diving section on the far side. 

It was the kind of luxury that felt almost surreal, but Olivia barely spared it a second glance before settling onto one of the larger canopy lounge beds, unimpressed.

“Today, I just want to read my book and ignore my family,” she sighed, sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose before flipping open her book. The way she said it was so casual, yet so completely Olivia.

You smirked, shaking your head. “Alright, well, I’m going for a swim first. Be back soon.”

With that, you turned toward the steps, toes brushing against the water’s surface. The initial cold made you hesitate, but before you could psych yourself out, movement on the other side of the pool caught your eye.

Quinn.

His bright orange shirt clung to his torso, completely soaked as he trudged through the water, holding his phone and Nintendo high above his head in a desperate attempt to keep them dry. He was heading toward the bar, a little further from where you stood.

You hesitated, then took a breath. This was your chance to talk to him alone, without Olivia hovering nearby. That thought alone propelled you forward. Careful not to dunk your head under, you waded into the water, the coolness wrapping around you as you made your way toward the bar.

As you got closer, you noticed the familiar white stems of his AirPods in his ears. He probably hadn’t even realized you were there. A mischievous thought crossed your mind. Would it be too cruel to startle him, just a little?

Biting back a grin, you crept up behind him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Quinn jolted, nearly dropping his devices before whipping around, wide-eyed. His tense expression melted into relief when he saw you.

You laughed, settling onto one of the barstools beside him. “Sorry, it just seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

Quinn paused his game, looking at you with something between surprise and uncertainty. He fumbled for words, and you suddenly became hyperaware of how rare these one-on-one conversations were. There had only been a handful of times you’d spoken to him without Olivia around, and every single time had been… well, awkward.

“Uhm- was I interrupting?” you asked, shifting slightly.

“No- no, it’s okay! I really don’t mind,” he rushed to say, his words stumbling over each other.

You smiled, sensing him relax. “Good, that’s good. So, tell me more about your game. Yesterday, Olivia kind of rudely interrupted our conversation.”

That got a reaction out of him. Quinn huffed, pulling his AirPods out completely. “Yeah, she’s just so annoying. Every time I even start talking, she tries to embarrass me.”

“I know. Sorry.” The words slipped out automatically, but when Quinn turned to you fully, you realized he wasn’t just brushing it off.

“Don’t apologize for her,” he said, his voice quieter but more serious. “I noticed you do that a lot around other people.” He hesitated before adding, “I don’t get why you’re friends with her. You’re so much nicer than she is.”

His words caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that, especially not to you.

“Thanks,” you said, a little softer this time. “But I’ve known her for a long time. She can be nice and fun… she just has her moments.” Even as you said it, you weren’t sure if you believed it.

Quinn let out a small chuckle. “If you say so.”

Not wanting the conversation to turn too serious, you quickly shifted gears. “So… back to your game,” you prompted.

That was all the encouragement he needed. For the next half-hour, Quinn talked, really talked- rambling and info-dumping about Assassin’s Creed with an enthusiasm that was almost contagious. You listened, asked questions, got completely caught up in his excitement. It was easy, effortless.

And then Olivia ruined it.

You caught sight of her from across the pool, waving from her lounge bed, beckoning you back.

“Shit- Olivia’s looking for me,” you muttered, more annoyed than you meant to sound.

Quinn’s expression faltered slightly. “Oh. Right. Well… I guess I’ll see you later.”

You hesitated for just a second before offering a small smile. “Later.”

Then, with a reluctant push off the barstool, you made your way back to the deeper part of the pool and swam toward the steps. As soon as you reached Olivia, she wasted no time launching into a round of questions about why you’d been hanging out with her brother instead of her.

You brushed it off, deflecting as smoothly as you could. “What chapter are you on?”

That was enough to distract her. She went on about her book, and soon, the conversation drifted into nothing. Before long, you found yourself relaxing again, even dozing off under the warm Hawaiian sun, though a part of your mind still lingered on your conversation with Quinn.

After dinner, you and Olivia headed to the bar to unwind before it got too late. A lingering tension still hung in the air from earlier, but you chose to brush it off, letting Olivia distract you as she scrolled through Tinder, nudging you to rate guys between sips of your drinks. 

The evening passed quickly in a haze of casual conversation and clinking glasses, and before long, you made your way back to the suite, the warm night air wrapping around you like a heavy blanket.

When you stepped inside after changing, you noticed Nicole already in her pajamas, her expression tired but neutral. Quinn was there too, standing stiffly as his mom dragged out a spare bed into the open space near the kitchen galley. 

Olivia barely glanced up, already occupied with her phone as you plopped down onto the pull-out couch beside her.

It wasn’t until Nicole started adjusting the sheets that Olivia looked up, her brows furrowing. “Mom, what are you doing?”

You held back an annoyed groan. You already knew where this was going.

Nicole barely acknowledged Olivia’s tone, pressing the mattress down to smooth out a crease. “Your brother is gonna suffocate if he sleeps in the kitchen.” She huffed, setting the bed down just outside the galley kitchen.

Olivia scoffed. “So get him his own room.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed with warning. “Olivia. This is perfect,” she continued, ignoring Olivia’s attitude. “Quinn, you sleep here. You girls, be nice.”

You shot Nicole a small smile, hoping to ease the tension. She nodded in approval before disappearing into her room, her voice softer now. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nicole,” you replied automatically.

Quinn sat down on his makeshift bed, shifting uncomfortably on the thin mattress. His expression was guarded, but when you caught his eye and gave him a small, reassuring smile, he returned it.

For a brief moment, there was silence. Then Olivia broke it.

“We don’t want you in here.”

You barely had time to react before she cut off your attempted protest.

“Leave.”

Quinn stiffened. His fingers curled into the sheets before he scoffed, anger flashing across his face. “Fine! I’ll sleep on the fucking beach!”

Before you could stop him, he grabbed his stuff and stormed out.

“Liv, seriously?” You turned to her in disbelief.

“What? It’s better this way, trust me.” She barely spared you a glance, already getting comfortable under the covers.

You knew arguing wouldn’t change anything, so you swallowed your frustration. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, unease crept in. Maybe you should’ve gone after him. Maybe you still could.

But the thought of drawing attention to how much you cared, how much you wanted to go after him- kept you frozen in place. So you stayed.

And then, hours later, the door slammed open.

You jolted awake, Olivia stirring beside you. Quinn stormed inside, dripping wet, sand clinging to his clothes and hair.

Nicole and Mark scrambled out of their room, their voices laced with confusion and concern.

“Quinn, where have you been?” Nicole demanded, taking in the state of him.

“I slept on the beach,” he grumbled, shaking water from his arms.

“Why?”

“Because of her!” He pointed directly at Olivia, his voice rising with frustration. “She made me! And now all my stuff is ruined! My iPad, my phone, my Nintendo- everything is soaked!”

Your heart sank.

If you had brought him back last night, this wouldn’t have happened.

Nicole’s expression darkened. Before she could say anything, Quinn stormed off, locking himself in the galley kitchen.

Nicole turned to Olivia, fury in her gaze.

“It was his idea!” Olivia defended.

Nicole shook her head in disappointment. Without another word, she turned and walked back to her room, Mark following with a sigh.

“Told you,” you muttered before getting up, already grabbing clothes for the day.

Breakfast was tense. Quinn had calmed down somewhat, though his mood remained sour. He sat stiffly, barely touching his food as Nicole’s patience wore thin.

“I need your computer, Mom,” he said flatly.

Nicole exhaled through her nose, irritation clear. “Well, I do have work to do.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do all day?” Quinn snapped.

“Enjoy Hawaii. Get in the ocean.”

His expression barely shifted. “The o-” He hesitated. “I did see a whale last night. That… that was pretty cool.”

Nicole sighed, setting down her fork. “Well, you’re not sleeping out there again.”

“Mom, he likes it. He’s communing with nature,” Olivia said mockingly, rolling her eyes.

Nicole shot her a look. “It’s funny how you have so much compassion for strangers, yet you don’t care about your brother.”

Olivia scoffed, brushing her off.

Quinn spoke up again, his voice quieter this time. “I’m gonna need someone’s phone today.” His gaze flickered around the table.

His dad shook his head. His mom didn’t even entertain the idea. Olivia didn’t even pretend to consider it.

Then his eyes landed on you.

You hesitated for only a second. “Sure, you can use mine.”

Olivia’s head snapped toward you in disbelief. “What?”

You ignored her, unlocking your phone. “Here, let me just remove the password so you don’t have to ask me all day-”

“Dude, why would you give him your phone?” Olivia laughed like it was absurd.

You handed it to Quinn, ignoring her. He took it carefully, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer. “Thanks,” he said, quieter this time, but genuine.

Nicole smiled approvingly. “That is so kind of you. If only his sister was like that.”

Olivia ignored the comment, stabbing at her food.

The day passed under the Hawaiian sun, the ocean cooling your skin between lazy dips in the water. From across the beach, you caught glimpses of Quinn, completely engrossed in your phone. He looked happy.

When Olivia wasn’t paying attention, you smiled.

Dinner was a lavish seafood spread, accompanied by a special performance from local staff members. You tried to enjoy it, but Olivia and her mom quickly fell into another argument, souring the evening.

Afterward, you took a long shower before playing a few rounds of cards with Olivia, your phone still in Quinn’s possession. You won, much to Olivia’s dismay, but even that small victory felt hollow.

By the time it was dark, Quinn still hadn’t come back.

His parents had already retreated to their own space. Olivia was brushing her teeth, unaware of your growing concern.

You glanced at the clock. 11 PM.

When Olivia emerged from the bathroom, you made a silent decision, one you should have made the night before.

If Quinn wasn’t back by the time you finished getting ready for bed, you were going to find him.

With or without Olivia’s approval.

As you brushed your teeth, did your skincare routine and brushed your hair, you listened for the door opening but it never did. After fifteen minutes you came back in the room, Olivia had fallen asleep already and you knew it was the perfect moment to look for Quinn.

You snuck out of the room as quietly as possible, letting the door close behind you with a soft thud. Barefoot, you made your way down the hall before reaching the elevator. When the doors opened on the ground floor, you started to follow the signs to the beach. Presuming he was in fact sleeping there.

The cool air of the night blew across your skin, reminding you you were in soft thin pyjamas that didn’t provide much warmth. You glanced around but didn’t see him yet. So you made your way through lounge beds and chairs, heading towards the beach.

QUINN'S POV:

Quinn huffed, stomping his feet on the sand, for the second time this vacation he dragged a lounge bed towards the water along with his duvet. He still had your phone clutched in his hand. When you handed it to him he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach, you cared about him enough to give up your own phone and you trusted him with it. 

He positioned the bed on the sand and got comfortable, pulling the duvet over his body. For a moment, he stared at the waves going back and forth. It was already dark but he didn’t feel scared, it was kind of relaxing to be able to sleep outside. Then he remembered your phone.

As he didn’t have to unlock it, it opened immediately. He was kind of getting bored of the mobile games and was thinking of what else to do. Would it be so wrong to take a look through your phone? He shouldn’t, but the idea was very tempting. Maybe he could find out if you somehow, in some universe, returned his feelings.

He knew it was a bullshit excuse but he was nosy, and how would you know? He started in your notes, nothing too special and mostly confusing things that were out of context. Next his eyes stilled on the ‘photo’s’ app, maybe he would find something on there. 

His stomach churned at the idea of violating your privacy like this, but the urge to sift through it pushed the feeling aside. Clicking on the icon, the app opened. 

Holy mother of god. Quinns mouth fell wide open as he was met with pictures of your naked body- in their shared suite.

Your tits on full display, your bare pussy too. There were about six different pictures, all were different poses. It must have been the night you smoked weed with his sister and had forgotten about it in the morning. Some were blurry but about four of them were crystal clear. 

He couldn’t help it, his cock was swelling the longer he stared at your perfect body. Usually just the image of you in a bikini at the beach did it for him but getting to see your naked body- jesus christ. 

Quinn felt horrible, he really did, he shouldn’t be seeing this. It wasn’t meant for him. Or was it? No, he shouldn’t think this way, it’s wrong...and yet his hand clicked on one of the better pictures, the full photo filling the screen. Your hot, naked, beautiful body filled the screen.

His cock was now so painfully hard, he had to take care of it, and he had already seen your naked body now. His free hand snuck under the covers, slid into his shorts and boxers. He let out a groan when his hand wrapped around his length. 

Shit- this was so fucked up, but he was not going to let this opportunity slide. His boxers were too tight for his hand to move freely, he put down your phone and removed his hard on from his underwear. With a quick glance around the beach, he resumed his movements.

Phone back in hand, other hand wrapped around his cock again, he let out soft grunts as he jerked himself off to your picture. And fuck did it feel good, your naked body completely on display for him so he could pleasure himself to it. 

Quinn tugged harder at his cock, letting his thumb occasionally glide over the precum that was now collecting in beads on his tip. Using it as a lube, it let his hand glide more comfortably over his length. “Oh fuck- yes-” He whispered to himself.

God he wished you did this on purpose, and right now, in his mind- you did. The thought spurred him on as his entire body burned with need. A sheen layer of sweat had spread over his skin. His eyes rolled back and lips parted in bliss. 

He pumped his cock faster, eyes locked on the picture before him, he felt like he was going to cum already- much faster than normal. He was so fucking close.

YOUR POV:

Your feet got swallowed by the sand, making your footsteps soundless as you made your way down the beach. Eyes flicking over the horizon, you noticed a familiar mop of hair laying on a lounge bed. Quinn.

Feet carrying you faster, you almost reached him before you heard the quiet groans and heavy breaths coming from him. Was he- jerking off? Everything in you screamed to leave right now but when you got a bit closer, you noticed our own phone in his hand. 

Oh. My. God. 

Your own naked body filled the screen- the nudes Olivia took as a joke when you were high. You completely forgot about them, and now you saw how Quinn's hand was moving frantically under his sheet, sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. 

Weirdly enough, anger didn’t bloom in you, but something else entirely. Your heart sped up at the sight of him, that familiar feeling starting to throb between your thighs. Was it even more wrong of you to get off on this? Clearly he was into you as well.

Before you could regret it, you walked to the side of his lounge bed. His movements immediately stilled as he scrambled to turn your phone off. “Holy sh- I’m so sorry! No- no- no- no, I- I’m sorry!” Quinn fully freaked out now, both his hands above the duvet. 

He didn’t notice the smile on your face. “I’m so sorry! Please!” His eyes started to tear up, still he refused to look at you. “Quinn- Quinn!” You interrupted him. “I’m- I’m not mad at you. It’s okay-” He looked at you finally, shock plastered on his face. 

“What?” He couldn’t believe what was happening, did you leave these for him? “Olivia and I got high and we did truth or dare, she dared me to take nudes, I forgot about them in the morning.” You explained, now taking a seat by his covered feet. He did not say anything.

“Do- do you like me?” You decided to ask instead. His entire face was red at this point, and he was embarrassed to admit to himself that he was still hard. Quinn nodded shamefully, he didn’t dare say anything, he was too ashamed of himself. 

“Maybe I like you too.” As those words left your lips, Quinn’s eyes blew wide. Did you really mean that, or was his sister around too and were you playing a prank on him? “And...maybe, I find it kind of hot, you found those photos.” He still couldn’t believe it. 

“What?” It was the only thing that he could say at the moment. Your laugh broke the silence. “You never noticed huh? Why do you think I’ve been trying to make an effort lately? I like you Quinn.” His lips parted once more, eyes still wide, was this a joke?

“I didn’t- notice, are you serious?” He looked at you, still in disbelief as you sat in front of him. You nodded. He looked around the beach, no one else was here. “Can I uhm- touch you?” Now it was him who nodded. 

So you leaned forward, closing in as you scooted closer to him. His eyes were hooded, a pink flush across his cheeks. Quinn’s gaze was now on your lips. Your hand rose to meet the soft skin of his cheek, he closed his eyes upon feeling you. 

Leaning in, you closed your own eyes, before your lips carefully met his. They slotted together perfectly and after a gentle sweet peck, you backed up. “How was that?” You whispered. “G-good.” He replied, his eyes opening, begging for more.

“Have you ever, you know, been with a girl?” His red cheeks deepend at your question, shame filled him once more when he shook his head. “That’s okay, would you like to?” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he nodded. “Tell me Quinn.” 

“I want to, really really badly, especially with you.” He whispered, too afraid to speak up. You smiled and leaned in again. This time he met you halfway and you could taste the lemon soda he had earlier. But he didn’t back up, he placed his hand carefully on your thigh, while your hand rested on his cheek again.

It was him who deepened the kiss, growing more hungry by the second. Quinn couldn’t help himself when you placed your other hand on his neck and softly traced your tongue along his bottom lip, he whimpered. 

You could feel how you were throbbing at this point, it had been a while since a guy had you this worked up. When he allowed you to fully tease him with your tongue, you too let out a muffled moan. Quinn was still hard beneath the sheet, and the kiss only made it worse.

He became more and more desperate, his tongue now met yours and it set your entire body on fire. You really hoped Olivia wouldn’t come out here, because if she did, she would be faced with her brother's tongue down her best friend's throat. 

Your hand that rested on his neck gently went down his body, feeling his warm chest still covered by his blue t-shirt. So you sat there under the cover of the stars, sloppily making out with your best friend's brother.

After a couple of minutes, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to touch him, for him to touch you. So you separated yourself from him. “Would you like to take this further?” He nodded at your words, before his face fell. “I don’t really know what to do though.”

“That’s okay, I do, don’t worry. If you want to stop we’ll stop.” He chuckled at your words, “Trust me I don’t want to stop.” It earned a smile from you before you kissed him again. “Mh- I’m still hard.” He confessed, muffled against your lips. Did he want to spur you on more?

“I would absolutely love to suck you off, but I need you inside me right now.” You whispered once you parted from him again. His eyes followed your movements as you removed your pyjamas, your bare tits met his eyes and he couldn’t look away. 

You removed your underwear as well, before climbing in his lap. “Don’t we need a condom?” He stammered out. “I’m on the pill, we’re good.” You said before pecking his lips. Then you helped him remove his shirt, finally you could gawk at him without it being weird. 

“You’re so fucking hot Quinn.” You almost moaned, it drove him to quickly remove his shorts and boxers beneath the sheets. When you pulled back the sheets, you looked down to see his erection leaking pre-cum. 

“Fuck- a good dick too.” You bit your lip, Quinn’s ragged breathing filled the salty air. “Please- It hurts-” Quinn begged, his hand wrapping around his cock to squeeze himself. You positioned yourself right over his groin and placed your hand on his to drag his tip through your soaked folds. 

You both moaned in unison, it felt way too good. Already you were addicted. Quinn removed his hand to let you take the lead, allowing you to guide his tip to your entrance. You were so wet at this point, the head of his cock easily slipped in. 

Quinn choked on his breath- it was the best thing he had ever felt. Finally he would know what it was like. He begged for you to continue, so you sank lower on his hard length, moans leaving your own lips as he stretched you out. “Fuck Quinn- you’re thick-” You gasped.

When you had fully taken him, you allowed yourself a moment to adjust. Leaning your forehead on his, both your breaths mixed. Quinn then set his feet on the lounge bed, preparing for your movements. 

Stabilising your knees, and hands on Quinn’s chest, you started with gentle grinds on his cock. “Fuck!” Quinn strangled out, the way your walls clenched around him made him see stars. You too started to moan when you fully fuck yourself on his dick. 

Switching between rocking and bouncing, you set a delicious pace as you both chased your highs. “Please- feels so good-” Quinn babbled as his hand now shot to your hips, holding you steady as you fucked him faster. 

If anyone wanted to enjoy a nice night walk now, you were screwed. “Quinn! Fuck baby!” You lost your own mind, but you needed more. You couldn’t cum from just his cock inside you and you noticed he was already getting close.

“Put- put your thumb on my clit-” You breathed out. Quinn started to lightly panic, he had no idea what to do. After a while, you grabbed his hand and guided it between your thighs, halting your movements. 

“Here, put your thumb- like that yes- and just press and move it- fuck like that!” Quinn quickly got the hang of it and you resumed your movements. Your mind was in the clouds and Quinn’s moans and whines only spurred you on more.

Sure his movements on your clit were sloppy as he was very focused on the way you bounced on him but it still did the job. His other hand couldn’t resist grabbing at your left breast, massaging it in his hand. He knew he was not going to last much longer, he wanted you to finish as fast as possible.

“I’m close Quinn- don’t stop-” You moaned, your mind going hazy and movements sloppy as you felt your orgasm near. With particularly fast movements from Quinn on your clit, your breath hitched and you clenched hard around his length as you came.

It was impossible to hold in your cries as your climax consumed you, you held on to Quinn for dear life, who tried to warn you before his own orgasm hit him. It was too late, with a cry of your name he filled you with his cum. The two of you holding on to each other tightly.

“Fuck yes baby fill me- fill me-” You gasped, his spent warm inside you. “Such a good boy-” He moaned at your words, he was sure he had never come this hard in his life. Wrapped around each other, you stayed like that for a while.

“Was it good? Your first time?” You asked, leaning back a bit to kiss his cheek. His dick had softened inside you, but neither of you dared to move. “It was amazing, thank you.” He breathed out, still on a high. 

“Good.” You chuckled. It felt good to be wrapped up in his arms, to hold him. His spent still inside you, leaking out already. What you did not realise was a person standing far, far away at the entrance of the beach. Your eyes flicked over as you noticed them.

Shit- Olivia.

Dividers by: @v6que

[gloomskulls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ IMPERIUM & CHAINS [caracalla & geta x reader]

pairing(s): gladiatorii!caracalla x gladiatorii!geta x pregnant!empress!reader

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ On her return in her homeland, with her children and another one growing in her womb, the Empress expects a moment of peace, a time to remember who she was before Rome. But there were never two husbands like Empress Caracalla and Geta anywhere else in the world. As her old memory resurfaces and the return into her old kingdom begins, she starts asking herself…is this freedom? Or is she just a bird in a golden cage?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ polygamy, extreme possessiveness, captivity, psychological manipulation, implied noncon/dubcon, violence, threats, power imbalance, misogyny, forced pregnancy, gaslighting, emotional abuse, toxic relationship, lemme know if I missed any!

If you don't wanna see my dark stories, please block the tag #madi: dark content

i just watched gladiator ii, and all of the sudden my eddie munson era is back, (so is my obsession with fred hechinger ever since he appeared in fear street 1994)

The imperial carriage rumbled over the bad dirt path, ostentatiously gilded to shine in the noonday sun. Rows of Roman soldiers flanking the route guarded by deep crimson banners. But the Empress felt anything but powerful inside her carriage

Inside the imperial carriage, the air had become still. The rich smell of expensive perfumes, warm wine, and her husbands unmistakable musk conspired to seal her in.

Across from her lay the twin Emperors of Rome, sprawled upon the cushioned seats like lazy gods.

Caracalla, in crimson toga with gold embroidery, rested his feet upon the floor. Sullen, crazed eyes would sometimes flick her way as if watching and expecting something from her—thankfulness or maybe subjection.

In contrast, Geta reclined with easiness, tunic with a looser drape. There was a slow swishing motion to his goblet of wine, and he gazed at the bloody liquid swirling around with keen interest.

The Empress, sitting stiffly in between the two, rested one hand protectively on her bulging belly while the other gripped the silk folds of her dress. Warmth from her children's laughter flowed back into her mind; they were riding ahead of her with heavy guard, separated. One would have thought her comforted by their warmth, but instead, her heart sank deep with the burden of her predicament.

She was going home. And yet, she was never free.

The castle gates swung open, revealing the King waited at the top of the stone steps. Once feared in battle, now an old lion, awaiting the cub's return, flanked by two wolves.

The imperial carriage rolled to a slow, deliberate halt.

The moment she stepped out, her father’s face softened. She barely drew breath before she clambered up the steps, disregarding the indifferent stares of the Roman guards, taking her father’s hands into her own and squeezing him with might.

“Father.”

“My child,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He cupped her face, his eyes flicked down to her belly, then past her to the gilded carriage. The warmth in his expression chilled instantly.

The twins had arrived.

Geta was first out, having in his own right created a suffocating silence in the courtyard, dark eyes sizing everything and everyone present.

Caracalla followed slowly, stretching his limbs as if awakening from a sweet dream, releasing a slight sigh and then glancing toward the King with a grin.

"My lords," began the King, voice firm, with fingers twitching ever so slightly against her hands. "Welcome to my home. Again"

"We are honored," Caracalla purred, ever smooth. He cast a cursory glance around. "Although, I must say, it seems awfully… smaller than I remember."

Geta remained quiet. He stared at the King, the muscles of his jaw taut, as if this entire rendezvous was beneath him. Then he walked past them without a nod and up the steps and into the castle, like a man who owned it.

The grand hall burst into flames under the torches, amid feasting sounds. The servants dashed between the tables pouring goblets of wine and laying platters of food in front of their guests. But the food was warm; everything else was cold with tension.

The Empress sat at the long banquet table between Caracalla and Geta; her children were further down, having an animated conversation with their grandfather. If not for their innocent laughter, she would have completely fallen apart.

"You must let them see the mountains tomorrow," the King said. "The ones beyond the valley, they must know where their mother used to play as a child."

"No," Caracalla responded instantly.

Silence.

The King frowned. "I can assure you they will be quite safe."

"It is not your assurances I am concerned with," said Caracalla. He did not even bother looking up from his plate.

"Forgive my brother," Geta said, putting on a charming smile. "He forgets his manners." He sipped leisurely at this wine. "We simply have too many enemies. Our children—her children—are too precious to us to be taken on an aimless stroll through the wilderness."

The King lowered his goblet slowly. "Precious? They are not commodities."

"Oh, but they are," Caracalla finally raised his head, his gaze fixing on the King. "They are the blood of Rome. And Rome does not share."

The Empress clenched her hands beneath the table. She had known this conversation would eventually happen, but to hear it now, to see their expressions so filled with ownership over not just her but her very own children, made her stomach turn.

Her father exhaled through his nose, wrestling to maintain his composure. But she could see it; the fingers that were twitching against the wood, the way his shoulders stiffened.

"You have stolen my daughter," he said lowly.

A silence that throttled.

Caracalla reclined back in his chair without removing his fingers from the dagger. "No, old man. You gave her to us as a way to soothe your losing war with Persia. We own her."

Geta chuckled. "You should be proud. Your little girl is the Empress of Rome."

Her father turned to her then, his eyes searching. Pleading. "Are you happy?"

She opened her mouth. No sound came out.

Caracalla leaned in close, breath warm against her ear. "Be careful," he whispered just low enough for her to hear. "We wouldn't want father getting any ideas, would we?"

She swallowed hard. "I am… honored to serve Rome."

A lie. And everyone at the table knew it.

High above the castle gardens, the moon cast streaming silver light on the stone pavements and bloomed flowers. The air smelled of damp earth and roses, a scent she had not smelled in a long time. It was completely different from the Rome, where the air was forever heavy with sweat and the metallic pungent tang from bloodshed in the Colosseum.

She walked along the trimmed hedges slowly, her fingers trailing along them. Something unnamable throbbed in her heart; perhaps longing or grief. The familiar feeling of this place, the shelter it once represented, was a cruel illusion now.

She was no longer just a princess of this land.

An Empress of Rome.

And Rome never loosed its hold.

A rustle behind her made her pause, but she did not turn.

"I thought I could find you here."

Deep voice, familiar. Father.

She exhaled, allowing her shoulders to relax slightly. "I needed air."

Footfalls approached, slow but heavy. Then a rough-hewn warm palm settled on her shoulder, and she allowed her moment of sojourn.

Father sighed, grip gentle but firm. "You look tired."

She released a soft, humorless chuckle. "I am always tired."

His hand fell away, and when she turned around, he was looking at her. Like really observing her. They had last met when she was younger, freer. Not a woman weighed down by the crown of Rome and the possessive grip of the twin Emperors.

His gaze fell to her belly. "Another child."

She nodded. "Another."

He inhaled sharply, shaking his head. "How many more, my daughter?"

She didn't reply.

Rather, she had her head turned to face the sky, feeling the cool air kiss the skin.

"You could stay," her father said after a long silence.

Lurching of the heart.

Her throat contracted and she forced herself to say the words. "You know that is not possible."

"Is it?" His voice was laced with frustration. "I am still a king. This is still your home. I could—"

"You could do nothing," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You think you could hide me? That they would simply let me go?"

He didn't speak, but the tension of his jaw told her all.

He knew. He knew that Caracalla and Geta would burn this kingdom to the ground before they let her slip through their fingers.

But still, he wouldn't let that go "You do not have to live like that."

She laughed bitterly but softly. "And how do I live, Father?"

"Like a woman in a gilded cage," he said.

She went still.

His voice softened. "You flinch when they touch you. You never look them in the eye for too long. And when you speak, you measure every word, as if your very breath belongs to them."

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Because it does."

Father's eyes darkened with wrath, but it was not against her. One step was taken closer to and around him, bearing down with great presence. "I could protect you. I could protect your children. You wouldn't have to go back."

Her lips trembled but quickly sealed them into a firm line.

The thought was dangerous.

So dangerous.

But then, for the first time in years, sparkled hope within her. The idea about staying was intoxicating, living beyond those cold, suffocating walls of Rome with her children, without the constant presence of them.

For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to think it could happen.

The empress didn't know what she was tensed about. She was just a servant girl, staring with wide eyes and nerves.

"The emperors request you," she said. "Immediately."

Now she was in their quarters, she could feel sweat forming in her palms as the tension in the room was rather tense. She could already sense in her gut that something was wrong.

Geta stood at the window, faced out into the darkness of the courtyard. He did not turn round when she entered, but the tension of his shoulders told her all.

Caracalla sat propped in a cushioned chair with one leg flung over the other, playing languidly with his goblet full of wine. Unlike his brother, he was looking at her directly, a faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips.

"It took you a while to get here," Geta murmured. "How rude of you."

Saying nothing, she just stood shivering at the door post.

"Tomorrow at dawn, we leave" is all Caracalla said.

Her breath caught.

"Why the sudden change?" she inquired, doctoring her voice to a level, impassive delivery.

Geta wheeled around at that instant, vision tearing through her like a knife. "There is nothing else for us here."

Caracalla sighed, arms crossed, as he tossed his empty goblet elsewhere. "it's too bad. I was just starting to get into the entertainment." He smiled at her, making little effort to hide the glint in his deep-set eyes. "Your father is such a gracious host. But I am left wondering… does he think he can keep you?"

Silence.

The Empress gulped.

Caracalla stepped closer, the air thickened by his presence. "I wonder," he said softly, "is it possible he thinks you want to stay?"

Another of his tests.

She covered her expression, lowered her eyes. "I am the Empress of Rome."

"Yes," Caracalla said darkly, "you are."

It was a quiet chuckle from Geta. "See, brother? No need to worry. Our little Empress knows where she belongs."

Caracalla looked anything but convinced.

His fingers just brushed her wrist, a light touch, but a warning, nonetheless.

"You should sleep," he murmured.

She nodded, turning to go, but before she could step away Caracalla caught her chin between his fingers, jerking her face back up towards him.

"You wouldn't mistake forgetting, would you?" he whispered.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

"No," she whispered.

He held her for just a moment more and then let her go.

Geta saw it all with lazy boredom. As if he was looking at a lecture.

"Good girl,"

And that was her dismissal.

But as she walked, her heart thundered away in her chest. Now they suspected her. Which meant that if she was to escape, it would have to be soon.

Because come morning, she would be on the road back to Rome.

And once she was back within those golden walls, under their ever-watching gaze, so suffocating and smothering, she's surprised she could even breath.

There would be no way out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to m