detectivecarisi-1 · 1 year ago
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The Senator’s Daughter Chapter 4 (Bodyguard! Dave York x AFAB reader)
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AN: Good evening :) Can’t lie… seeing people reading this story, interacting with it, genuinely enjoying it??? Has me on cloud 9. It’s really the best knowing that people are enjoying this incredibly self-indulgent fanfiction I am writing. Last night, I saw that one of my favorite people on tumblr liked a chapter and I literally almost cried. Anyways, that’s life. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I am sure you can tell, but miss reader here definitely needs some therapy... but she’s gonna get dicked down instead
Rating: Explicity (18+ ONLY, Ageless blogs will be blocked!!!!) 
Word Count: 3.3k
Warnings: ANGST, slight fluff? mentions of smut, descriptions of wet dreams, reader has a panic attack, verbal abuse, slight SH behavior (the reader pinches her thigh to keep from crying), references to alcohol abuse, language, Age Gap relationship. This chapter is pretty tame, no smut, just lots of emotions. 
Prolouge Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3   
Dave is halfway downstairs, when he hears a high pitched, girlish scream followed by a thump coming from the living room. He instinctively starts to pick up the case, reaching for the knife he keeps in his pocket and speeding down the remainder of the steps, he’s about to turn the corner, when he hears loud, uncontrollable giggles.
He slows down, releasing a frustrated puff of air, and sees you laying on the floor, laughing, a real, genuine laugh, while… what looks like a snowball with a tail is doing everything in its power to lick your face. He smiles as he listens to you saying … absolute nonsense in a baby voice, before you pick the snowball up, kiss its head and cheerfully proclaim, “I can’t believe you’re back, baby!”
Dave watches for a moment, smiling softly as you grab a stuffed ice cream cone, throw it, and clap for the snowball when it chases it. Dave huffs in amusement as he watches the snowball lose traction on its own paws and slide to a stop.
“I swear, she loves that dog more than life itself,” Dave turns to see Senator Leland, smiling at his daughter on the ground, whispering so their presence continues to go unnoticed, “You may think the dogs been missing for a year or two, but she was just at the groomers this morning.”
Dave clenches his teeth to prevent his face from showing how adorable he thinks it really is. He watches you, so off in your own world, calling the snowball “the most precious little lady!” While rubbing its belly, the dog flopped onto her back. Finally, Senator Leland clears his throat, getting the attention of you and the dog.
Dave watches you turn, and your smile falls, your lips part slightly, eyes widening, you take a shaky breath in, but you don’t look away from him.
Why aren’t you looking away from him?
While you’re staring at Dave, like an animal caught in a trap, the snowball spots Dave, and sprints toward him, sliding to a step just at his dress shoes. He reaches down, offering his hand for a sniff, when the dog just immediately begins licking his fingers. Some guard dog you got…  
Mr. Leland’s phone begins ringing, he sighs, checks the caller ID, and he frowns, “Honey, you tell Dave about ‘love of your life’ yet? I’ve gotta take this, it’s an update on the polling numbers.” Mr. Leland answers the phone, swiftly leaving the room. You look down for a moment, clearing your throat, before smiling shyly at Dave, “that’s … that’s my best friend, my baby. Her name’s Peeve.”
At the sound of her name, Peeve looks toward you, and sprints back, hopping onto your lap. Dave furrows his brows, confused by the name, “Peeve?” You finally smile at Dave, still nervous, avoiding his eyes, “she’s my pet. My pet Peeve.”
You look up at Dave, a goofy, nervous smile on your face, just in time to see him returning your gaze, his face completely unamused. You feel like a fucking idiot, and your smile falls as you look away, going back to petting Peeve, before Dave lets out a breathless laugh.
He feels a pang in his chest at the way your face lights up at the sound.
Suddenly hopeful, you bite your lip and sit back against the fireplace, resting your arm across your knees, and he’s caught off guard by how… soft you look. You’re wearing an old William & Mary University hoodie, which looks a little bit too big on you, swallowing your body whole, paired with grey sweatpants, tied loosely around your waist. A pair of fuzzy socks with pink and purple dots on them covering your feet, and your hair loosely tied back from your face, with a rosy, pink scrunchie, a few stray pieces softly falling behind your ear, and laying messily across your forehead, perfectly framing the curve of your jaw and the plumpness of your cheeks. Your face is glowing, probably from the prior orgasm, but Dave also knows people well enough to see how exhausted you really look. Darkness and a little puffiness around your eyes, and your slightly lethargic way of moving.
After a while, Dave finally says “that’s the worst goddamn name for a dog I’ve ever heard” reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose to make a feeble attempt at hiding the laugh he can’t hold back anymore. You gasp dramatically, feigning offense, “I’ll have you know Peeve fits her name perfectly. Just you wait until you get perfectly comfortable in bed she just HAS to lay directly on top of your legs, and you’re forced to remain, perfectly still, in that same spot for the rest of the night!”
He blinks, chuckling under his breath, he turns to look away from the passionate argument for why Peeve is a pet peeve, to try to regain his composure. “Move her?” he responds, voice breathless with exasperation, examining the ornate detailing in the marbling of the fireplace.
“When Peeve is so comfortable? Blasphemy, Mr. York, how dare you suggest such a thing!” You lean forward, resting your head on your knees, eyes twinkling.
He turns around at processes the scene in front of you, Peeve jumping to rest on your tummy, you’re smiling so brightly at Dave that he swears he can feel his heart start to pound in his chest, like a boy crushing on the girl next to him in class.
The feeling startles him. He looks at you, pretty little smile on your face. So different from what he expected. But then… he processes how young you look. How soft, and innocent your smiling face is. As if all at once, he then remembers why he’s here. You’re just a spoilt little rich girl, taking advantage of the privilege granted to you. You could have it all, but you choose to throw it away for a few drinks and a bag of Percocet. His job is to make sure you don’t end up in jail, or worse, dead. He remembers your temper tantrum; he remembers the photos of you on TMZ.
He remembers how turned on he was hearing the soft moans you let out in your sleep… He remembers how in his fantasy of you, you listened so perfectly as you fell to your knees in front of him… he remembers how pretty you sound, begging for his cum.
As he gazes at you, he starts to process how your eyes look the exact same way they did in his fantasy. Big, round, innocent… so fucking pretty.
He can’t feel like this.
He looks away, steeling himself, clearing his throat, “Well… a dog’s a dog, Miss Leland. You can move her.” and he swiftly walks to the dining room, not bothering to look at you again. ——————————————————————— You sit there, defeated for a second, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in Dave’s demeanor. You frown … did you maybe take it too far? Well, you definitely did. You just met the man that morning, and you’re already waving a vibrator in his face. But to be fair, you never had a solid understanding of boundaries, and he was fucking with you just as much.
Sure, there’s this weird, undeniable sexual tension between the two of you, like a rubber band about to snap… but you can’t help but wonder if you’ve created this. if you imagined the look in his eyes when you whispered in his ear. like he wanted to devour you where you stood. or maybe you imagined the smile he immediately hid when you woke up from your (very fucking filthy) wet dream you had about him. but, you know you didn’t imagine the hard outline of his cock, straining against his black dress pants. you can’t deny the feeling of it under your fingertips as you lightly brushed across it. You know, he must’ve been just as turned on as you were.
then again… the human body is weird. it gets turned on to things the brain wishes it wouldn’t. and Dave clearly fucking hates you, that much is for sure. after basically stealing his life away and then having a literal fucking temper tantrum about it, honestly, you can’t even blame him. Not to mention, he’s probably more than twice your age, so why would he even bother looking at you in that way?
but then again….
you’re thinking yourself in circles. nothing makes sense, and you resign yourself to a feeling of hopeless confusion. flopping back onto the floor dramatically, you stare at the ceiling trying the deep breathing techniques you learned when your father finally agreed to let you go to a therapist. It’s all you really remember from your time in therapy. her name was Monica… and you loved her. but after a reporter followed you into the office and photographed you crying as you exited, the headline on the next day’s Virginian Pilot “Leland’s Daughter Breaks Down!,” your dad pulled you out and never let you go back.
later, you found out the reporter was the father of one of your acquaintances in high school… great. that did wonders for your trust in other people (obviously.)
you’re laying on the floor, four second inhale. four second pause. four second exhale. pause. rinse and repeat. Peeve lays down next to you, stuffed ice cream cone still in her mouth, as she offers it to you as a consultation prize.
God you wished that fucking worked.
before your head can clear and your heart rate can return to normal, you’re called into the dining room for dinner. ——————-————————————————
When you enter the dining room, your dad is still furiously talking on the phone. Dave sits awkwardly at the end of the table, looking frustrated, staring at the cabinet behind your father. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before he clenches his jaw and looks away.
You try to forget how bad it hurts.
“Listen… I know it’s gonna be hard to cover up. But do whatever you have to do. I don’t care if you have to … well pay the fucking sheriff off if you have to! I don’t care!” your father hangs up the phone in an instant… it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s talking about you, and it definitely doesn’t take a genius to see how pissed off he is. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long, frustrated exhale. Before turning to you and giving you a tight-lipped smile.
You can’t find it in yourself to return it.
You begin to eat your dinner, chicken piccata with artichokes, served on a bed of simple, creamy spaghetti, topped with a heaping serving of Parmigiano Reggiano a side of a Caesar salad. You let the bright flavors of capers and lemon distract you from how much you’re feeling. How you’re somehow feeling so much, you feel nothing at all. All the intensity somehow just morphed into a feeling of acceptance, completely numb to everything happening around you.
You let your eyes flicker to Dave, who is staring at his plate, and he must’ve sensed you looking because he looks up at you briefly, before immediately glancing away, like you’re fucking see through.
Jesus Christ. Your foot starts to tap nervously, as suddenly the taste of parmesan cheese and creamy spaghetti noodles suddenly makes you feel nauseous. God… fuck this.
“Dad…” you blurt out, before you can even think about what you’re about to ask, and how bad it’ll make you look, “am I still able to go out? Or am I like… permanently banished to my room?”
Your father freezes for a moment, and you swear you hear Mr. York let out a sigh of annoyance. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, clench his jaw, and the soft eyes he gave you in the living room are long gone. He straightens up and looks to your father, waiting for a reaction.
“Sweetheart…” your dad starts, he’s choosing his words carefully, slowly and methodically speaking, trying his best to make this blow over as smoothly as he can, “are you sure that’s the best idea?”
No, actually. You’re not sure. In fact, you know this is a bad idea. You know this is probably one of your worst ideas. Less than 24 hours ago you were sitting in a Virginia Beach jail cell and got off solely because of your father’s reputation. But with how you feel like, at any moment you’re going to lose your fucking shit. How you’re seriously contemplating bursting out of this house and running into the cold Atlantic Ocean just outside your doorstep, just to get the fuck out of here… drinking sounds fucking incredible right now.
You can’t say that to your father, for … obvious reasons. So, you sit up a little straighter, clearing your throat, and pitching your voice up higher, just like you used to do as a kid when you would beg him to take you to 7/11 for a Slurpee after school, “Dad… I know what I did was bad. And I’ve learned my lesson. But, with Dave here, he can take care of me. So, nothing bad will happen again.” You look to Dave again just in time to see him roll his eyes at your performance. Okay, confirmed, he does see right fucking through you.
Your dad on the other hand… this always worked. He frowns… looks at you, thinks for a moment… “You can go out again. On two conditions.”
Fuck. Yes.
“One, you listen to Dave. Everything he says. If he cuts you off, he cuts you off. If he says it’s time to leave, it’s time to leave. You stay right next to him, the whole time. You do not leave his sight.”
You smile. Easy enough. You glance at Dave who is tapping his fingers on the table, his jaw tightly clenched, mouth pulled to one side, biting the inside of his lip.
Oh, he’s pissed.
But… like he said himself, the only two people Dave takes orders from is his boss, and Till Leland.
God bless Till Leland.
“Second, you have to promise me you’ll go back to school. You’re doing nothing with your life, and I’m sick of it. You need to start something. You can’t just make a career out of partying.”
Okay… that’s a little more difficult. You frown… “can I go to William & Mary?” Your voice is still in that pathetic, high pitched, whiny tone you pick up when you want something, and you’re vaguely aware of the way Dave turns to look at you, eyebrows pinched together in confusion.
Your dad sighs. Leaning down to rest his elbows on the table, resting his forehead on the heels of his hands “We’ve had this talk before, honey, you know, damn well, that if you end up going to anywhere other than Virginia Tech the President of the University will stop donating to my campaign. You know this.,”
Yes, you know this. But that still doesn’t stop you from trying to change this.
“I know, dad it’s just…”
He cuts you off, slamming his hand on the table, “See, you say you know this. You say you understand. But here you are still asking.”
Dave doesn’t show it, but he’s really fucking confused by the sudden turn in events. He’s never seen your father like this. This morning he was so kind and worried about you. Even when he yelled at he wouldn’t let you drink yourself to death, that came from a place of worry. Now, Till Leland is just furious. Dave watches as you recoil, as if you had just been slapped, and you look down at your plate, staring into it like you’re trying to completely remove yourself from being mentally present in this moment.
Till continues, “I caved when you just kept begging to study English Lit. Even though you know as well as I do that there’s barely any jobs. But I’m not caving in this. It’s Virginia Tech or you get out. You’ve ruined my campaign enough for one night. Honestly, you getting out would be doing me a favor, at this point.” After saying it he closes his eyes, breathing heavily, rubbing his temples.
Holy shit.
Even Dave can recognize that that was a little excessive. He looks to you, where you stay, staring into your plate of pasta, blinking away tears, breathing heavily. The silence in the room is defeating. No one moves, no one makes a sound, until he hears you, in a small soft voice “I’ll register for classes tomorrow…” Dave watches as you bite your lip, and bring a hand up to your thigh as you pinch the skin above your knee for a moment, you take a deep breath and look up at your father, “May I be excused?”
You get out of there before your dad can respond.
Dave takes a deep breath, standing to follow you out of the room, grabbing his plate, Mr. Leland holds a hand up, before sighing and resting his forehead in his hands.
“Dave… just…” He looks up at Dave, face sad and eyes slightly reddened, shakes his head, and goes back to eating his dinner, like nothing happened, “make sure she’s alright.” ——————-———————————————— The second the door to your bedroom shuts behind you, you let out a choked sob, stumbling until you collapse on the floor. Bringing your knees to your chest, you’re just trying to breathe. Four seconds in. Four second pause… and you can’t hold your breath for four seconds. Your heart rate is too high, your mind running too quick, your heart just fucking hurting too bad. You feel like your father reached into your chest cavity and is currently crushing your heart between his fists. The emotional pain you feel right now is so crushing, you feel it physically. You feel a heaviness on your chest you've unfortunately grown familiar with, but not used to it. You’re not able to breathe. Everything that has happened in the last 24 hours is pinning you to the ground, warranting you unable to even move. You just sit on the ground, crying in your hands, feeling your warm tears sliding down your palms, darkening the sleeves of your hoodie, the fabric cooling and chilling your wrists. But you don’t even care.
Your brain feels like mush, so much to think about leaving you completely thoughtless. All you know is you’re hurting and there’s nothing you can do in your house to stop it.
Laying back and staring at the ceiling, tears running across your cheeks, cool tears pooling into your ears.
You let them run.
You don’t bother to move when your head your doorknob turn, and the undeniable click of your door opening. You just stare up at the ceiling, memorizing the faint textured details on the ceiling. You don’t bother moving, even when Dave kneels beside you, his knees popping as he lowers. You miss the way his face winces at the feeling.
He examines you for a moment. Face swollen and glassy with tears, your eyes blankly staring into the ceiling. Your breathing, rhythmic, he hears you inhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, exhale four seconds, hold for four seconds. You repeat this, over and over, not stopping, even he moves to bring you a tissue from the box on your bedside table.
He doesn’t say a word.
Neither do you.
Taglist: @fatimaisabelpascal @hayley1623 @marysucks-blog @pedro-pedrito-pascalito​
If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters lmk! 
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ho-for-joequinn-fics · 24 days ago
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Display of Death
A/N: Just another Emperor Geta fic, this time inspired by a dream I had. The beginning part and smut wasn’t part of the dream, but I wanted to add some sort of backstory for the reader and extra context for this. Either way, enjoy my fellow Emperor Geta whores. This one is a dark one 😘
Emperor Geta x senator’s daughter!Reader (the reader’s age isn’t specified in this fic, but she can be in her 20s or 30s depending on your personal preference.)
warnings: 18+ only! This fic is not for minors, so DNI! mentions of a character being drugged into a state of incapacitation, psychotic!reader, possessive!reader, descriptions of murder, dismemberment and public display of a human corpse, horny!Geta (he’s into that savage murder shit 😏), unprotected p in v smut, profanity, etc
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At first it wasn’t easy for Emperor Geta to choose the woman he wanted to make his future Empress. He had met several candidates over the course of a week and not a single one met the high standards he held, neither of them had the bravery, bold confidence, vulgar display of power, or even the beauty that he was looking for.
That was until you caught his attention.
You weren’t even one of the women that were chosen as a potential candidate, you were just the daughter of a senator who kept you out of the limelight of the Roman Empire your whole life. Of course that finally backfired on your father when you managed to drug him with the sedatives you asked your lifelong caretaker to smuggle in to you so you could sneak out for a night to finally have some sense of freedom.
You were wandering the grounds of Palatine Hill when you unfortunately ran into General Acacius, who also happened to be accompanied by Emperor Geta. You hadn’t met either of the Emperors prior to this, your father made sure to keep you as far away from them as possible, and with reason.
“Y/N? What are you doing out so late by yourself? Where is your father?” The General had a nervous frown on his face as he marched towards you, but you simply rolled your eyes in response. Your father had him wrapped around his finger when it came to making sure you were out of the public eye.
“Is it a crime to go for a late night walk?” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his question regarding the whereabouts of your father, you didn’t need him getting in the way of your plans. “Last I checked, I’m a grown woman who has every right to do what I want without my father’s selfish ass controlling my every move.”
“You know how he feels about you going out--”
“And I don’t give a damn how that piece of shit feels!” You snapped, a fire in your eyes as you stepped towards General Acacius and jabbed your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who the fuck he or you are, if I want to choose my freedom over his ridiculous prison-like rules, then I’m going to! I’m done letting him keep me hidden away like I’m some sort of fucking embarrassment to him!”
“You know that’s not why he keeps you out of the public eye.”
“The other senators don’t keep their daughters hidden away like he does with me. Now why is that, huh? Tell me!” Your anger was rising and patience wearing thin, not paying any mind to the Emperor who was now completely enamored with you and the rage you exuded, you were the full center of his attention.
“I can’t say.”
You laid a harsh smack across the General’s face before forcefully grabbing him by the jaw so you could stare him in the eyes. “Tell me or I’ll fucking kill you, Marcus.” Your cold, dark eyes held truth to your words, which had him swallowing thickly. He knew you weren’t fibbing, he could feel the blade of the dagger you were now pressing against his jugular.
Where the hell was she hiding that dagger?
“He keeps you hidden from them.” His eyes flicked towards the right in the direction of where Emperor Geta was standing watching the whole ordeal play out, but his voice was barely above a whisper so Geta couldn’t hear his answer to your question.
You laughed bitterly at that, sheathing your dagger back into its place before stepping away from General Acacius. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Keeping me prisoner all these years because he’s afraid they’d corrupt me? Well the joke’s on him because he’s the reason I turned into a full blown psychopath!”
You clenched your fists by your sides as you turned away from him, now staring back towards the direction of your luxurious home where your incapacitated father currently resided. “He’s lucky I only drugged him into a coma, I very well could have slit his throat like I wanted to. I have some restraint, you know.”
The General zoomed past you towards your house to make sure your dad was still alive and breathing and you only scoffed before turning to finally face Emperor Geta, taking in the sight of his extremely handsome features for the first time since he became Emperor. The way he was staring at you with a carnal desire made your heart pound away in your chest, but it’s what he said next that filled you with an excitement you’d never felt before.
“I’ve finally found my future Empress.”
~
Thanks to Emperor Geta, you finally earned the freedom you’d been craving for the majority of your teenaged and adult life. He ordered for your father to be arrested for wrongful imprisonment and had him stripped of his senatorial title. Your father begged for leniency, but Geta wasn’t having it. He told your father his punishment was lenient enough because he could have had him killed instead. You wouldn’t have minded that, if you were being honest.
Word spread quite quickly that Emperor Geta had chosen you to be his Empress-to-be and to say that most of the girls who were actual candidates were displeased about that decision is an understatement. They discussed amongst themselves how it was unfair that he chose you instead of one of them and came up with a plan to try and get Emperor Geta to change his mind and pick one of them instead. Little did they know, that plan was going to backfire.
Those girls had zero clue of how psychotic you were, how when something was rightfully yours, you would fight for it to the death, and of course that something in this case was Emperor Geta. The night you two first met, he took you back to his chambers at the palace where you spent the whole night into the morning talking and getting to know each other. By morning it was as though you’d known each other your whole lives, you were officially inseparable.
The girls enacted their plan as soon as possible, deciding they would one by one flirt and be extra friendly with Emperor Geta until he caved and chose one of them to be his Empress instead. Except only one of them was able to attempt their plan before you got your hands on her and showed the rest of them you were not to be trifled with. When you realized what they were up to, it had your blood boiling and thinking about how they had the audacity to try and steal him from you when it was you that he clearly wanted, not them.
After stealing borrowing some weaponry from The Colosseum armory, you stalked the first girl who attempted to flirt with Geta and steal his attention and heart from you, waiting until dusk and when she was completely vulnerable before striking her down. When your time to shine arrived, the first thing you did was repeatedly force your dagger into her spinal cord to render her paralyzed. The maniacal laugh you let out as she collapsed with pained gasps sent haunting shivers right through her.
Your pupils were blackened with a murderous rage as you stood above her, staring down at her with a twisted grin as you unsheathed the sword you had taken from the armory. “You see, this all could have been avoided had you not schemed behind my back to steal what’s rightfully mine. I don’t take lightly to jealous little girls thinking they can convince my husband-to-be into picking one of them over me. There’s a reason he didn’t choose any of you. If only you could have gotten that through your thick skulls so none of you had to die.”
“Please...” She gasped, trying to reach out to grab you but unable to do so due to the traumatic injury to her spinal cord. “You don’t have to do this.” She really thought begging and pleading was going to help her case. How cute.
“Too late. I’m already committed.” You gave her a wicked grin this time before severing one of her arms clean off with the newly sharpened sword, watching with a sadistic sense of pride as blood spewed out of her wound. Her anguished scream had you inhaling deeply through your nose with closed eyes as you relished in the delightful sound, your grin only growing more wicked. “Aaahh I love the sound of suffering in the evening.”
Not another word was spoken from her before you were quite literally hacking her into pieces, your final blow cutting her head clean off her torso. But you weren’t done with her yet, oh no, you had to show all of the other girls the consequence of trying to take what’s yours. The first thing you did was impale her head on a stake and publicly displayed it for all of Rome to see come tomorrow. Then you scattered the rest of her remains around the spot where you placed the stake and used her blood to write a warning on the adjacent wall.
After arriving at the palace not long after finishing your deadly duties, you quickly cleaned yourself up before slipping into bed in Geta’s chambers, finding comfort in his bed rather than your own. He wasn’t there at the moment, he was still unfortunately dealing with some important matters regarding the next gladiatorial contest at The Colosseum, but you were quite content either way. Your adrenaline was still rampant after what you’d just done out of full blown possessive love. You couldn’t wait to tell Geta all about it.
~
Screams of terror. That’s what woke you out of your peaceful slumber and it had you grinning deviously knowing exactly what the screams were about. Geta stirred beside you, opening his eyes with displeased grumbles about how it was too early to be woken by people screaming bloody murder.
You turned on your side to face him with a cheeky grin, reaching to gently brush your thumb against his cheekbone. “That would be my fault, my love. It seems someone’s discovered my lovely display of death that I put out last night.”
Geta gave his head a curious tilt to the side, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean by "display of death"?” He knew you couldn’t have killed your father and put him on public display as a way of getting back at him after all those years being imprisoned in your own home since he was now locked up for life himself, so who exactly did you kill?
“Why those girls who were chosen as candidates to be your potential future Empress were conspiring against me to steal you away from me, so I taught them a lesson by brutally murdering and dismembering the first girl who even dared to try stealing your attention and heart from me. Now she’s on public display for everyone to see and know that their future Empress is just as sadistic and unhinged as the Emperor she’s set to marry.”
Geta’s heart fluttered wildly in his chest at your confession, falling even more in love with you over the fact that you were so willing to kill over him. Grinning widely at you, he reached out to cup your cheek in his hand. “Oh, my beloved, you are so beautiful, violent, and vulgar. I just knew I made the right choice in choosing you to be my Empress.” Immediately his lips were on yours, his other hand cupping your other cheek as he rolled over until he was positioned on top of you, rolling his hips forward to let you feel how hard he’d become.
You moaned wantonly at the feeling of his hard cock grinding against your clothed center, rocking your hips in tandem with his own movements as you reached to start stripping him of his sleep robe. “Please, my liege, I need you.” You murmured into the kiss, your fingers gliding down the center of his bare chest towards his erection where your fingers wrapped firmly around the base.
“Whatever my bride-to-be wants, my bride-to-be gets.” He mused as he brought his own hands down to start ridding you of your own garments, carelessly tossing them to the floor before bringing you into another kiss just as he glided his length through your arousal soaked folds. “Mmm... Already so wet for me?” He pushed into your sopping cunt then, earning a mewl mixed with pain and pleasure from you as your walls swallowed up each thick inch of him.
“Oh my gods, you’re so big.” You whimpered, your eyes rolling into the back of your head once he set a steady rhythm in thrusts, your legs wrapping firm around his waist while your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders. You could already feel the fire within your belly growing, knowing you probably weren’t going to last very long seeing how this was your first time and you had yet to build up your sexual stamina. Your eyes moved to look up at Geta as he fucked into you, your gazes meeting and further feeding the fires growing within both of you.
“You feel so divine, beloved. Buried inside you is my official favorite place to be. Not even the deadliest of gladiatorial contests beats being buried inside this perfect wet cunt of yours.” He moaned delightedly as he kept your gaze, resting each hand at either side of your head nestled against the pillows beneath it, grinning from ear to ear at your pleased moan in response to his words. He dipped his head down after a minute to start kissing and nipping along your throat, then up towards your jaw, working his way back towards your mouth where he kissed you with fervor.
Tongues collided as you returned his kiss with matching passion and energy, your fingers working their way into his hair where you gave harsh tugs as a way of showing how good he was fucking you, the nails of your other hand dragging down the length of his shoulder blade. “Just like that, my love. M’not gonna last very much longer.” You murmured with a particularly harsh squeeze around his length, earning a guttural moan from his throat that sent shivers of arousal right through you.
“I’m close too. You just feel so good, beloved.” He sighed contently, lowering one of his hands to find your clit so he could rub gentle but quick circles into it, pulling a pleased cry from your throat. “Let go for me. Want us to cum together, can you let go for me?” He hummed as he kept up his pace and force in thrusts, applying a little more pressure to his rubs on your clit until you were finally clenching tight around his cock and coming undone with a loud cry of his name, him right there with you as he filled you with a guttural moan of your name.
“Thank you.” You panted, finally breaking the silence after the two of you came down from your highs, Geta’s head lifting from where he had nuzzled it against your breasts with a satisfied smile. For your first time being intimate together, this was better than how either of you imagined it to be, but you knew the more sex you had, the more mindblowing it would become. Personally he couldn’t wait until you were ready for him to make you scream on his cock while he fucked his heir into you.
“Mmmm thank you.” He leaned in to press a softer kiss to your lips this time, pulling back after a few moments with a smile. “Shall we get dressed and check out that lovely display of death you created?”
“I would love nothing more.”
Thank you for reading! I know it’s kinda short and the smut isn’t the best I’ve written, but comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 🥺
Tagging: @userchai @myherometalhead
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hexjulia · 6 months ago
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you could easily name a daughter Small Cato (Catootje) in nl and people would just think it was normal. Maybe derrived from Catharina somehow. But Catootje derrived from Cato was also an existing option. Just something to think about.
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women-of-malevolent · 4 months ago
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Young Girl, Daughter Of A Senator, Who Went Missing
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Beef Heel of Round - Beef Meat Identification - University of Nebraska-Lincoln
Part 32
32.1
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32.2
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Part 34
34.1
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34.2
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cephalopodvictorious · 10 months ago
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longtime followers remember the story about my great grandmother teaching me Yiddish, but I'll recap - my great grandparents fled the Shoah and came to the US and busted their asses to buy passage for as many people as they could (you a fuckton of cash in your bank account for the US to allow it, and the Nazis had seized those assets)
so they wanted very, very badly to become American Enough™
this meant giving their kids sufficiently English names, not speaking Yiddish, and generally teaching their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren how best to hide in plain sight (among other things, like mutual aid, and "how to find and bully the shit out of local politicians", and community building)
so for years my mother insisted that we spoke German in the house, and no Yiddish. I internalized this, but like, when do you really speak German in the US? I had no way to really use these skills until I got to college and needed some language credit and went "yeah let's try German" because 1) I hadn't spoken it since my childhood, and 2) easy A, right?
wrong
my professor took me aside really early on and told me very politely that about 80% of what I was saying was just Yiddish, and while I was learning quickly, it would be very obvious that I'm Jewish, and I should mind my accent (not because anything was wrong, but she also wanted me to know for my own safety)
when I told my mother, she bugged out on me and insisted that no, great grandpa never spoke Yiddish once he came to the US and we don't speak Yiddish. it took a lot of digging to realize that after he died, my great grandmother had set to teaching me Yiddish. see, she was the one who taught me all that about getting involved in your community, she was bone stubborn and determined to loose nothing. never again. and she wanted us to know
but my mother has insisted, and my grandmother insisted that we never spoke Yiddish. ok.
so I've been learning Yiddish on duolingo, and doing pretty well, and my mother was thinking of learning Hebrew on duolingo, so she asked me to show her some. she realized that she's illiterate in Hebrew, and decided that while she wants to do it, she wants to also brush up on her German, so I showed her German. I was forming a sentence and she stopped and went "no! it goes like this!" and I knew she was wrong but I put it in and sure enough! I was right! and she goes "ah well, my teachers always said my grammar was bad :-/"
and I said "well you're wrong in German, but you know why you did that? you're right in another language :) :) :)"
so today my mother learned that her grandmother had taught her Yiddish too, and simply never told her husband. now I just have to convince my grandmother :)
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girlrandomstuff · 2 years ago
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I could rant all day about this gesture between Bail and Breha.
Bail speaking to Breha to the ear, the way he puts his hand on her back, the little tiny small tilt of her head to reach closer to him and then her expression when she hears what he said. It's driving me i-n-s-a-n-e.
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The amount of (non-s*xual) intimacy is something that I just love to see between them, I mean I would have loved and would love to see like bigger affection gesture, yeah, OF COURSE, but I love to see the small details just like this two moments
This one too, if you look carefuly you can actually see Breha leaning all the way into Bail's side, they're in the middle of a party (?) talking with other gueses and they're are just there listening and talking to them and they're are also just snuggling (?) I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR.
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leehallfae · 5 months ago
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did i ever tell you guys i wrote a pilot teaser in teleplay format for my ideal post-santos-administration continuation of the west wing in which joey lucas is elected president . like it slaps really hard though idk if i would ever finish out writing the whole episode so i might just post it on ao3 as is, who knows
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locitapurplepink · 11 months ago
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"You are an Organa in every way."
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twistedthings · 1 month ago
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@liloulu liked THIS for a small spooky thing x
"Okay, so, what if we walked back?" Eliora suggested, trying her damn best not to lose her god damn cool in this situation. She was used to being the diva in most incidents but this one had gone from absurdly annoying to dire in such a short time she knew it was best not to be a hindrance. Surely, it wasn't that far back to the remote resort they were staying at but part of her felt this whole situation was deliberate and planned by someone.
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zvmz · 10 months ago
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Something I can’t get off my mind…. eah Jedi au
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detectivecarisi-1 · 1 year ago
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Senators Daughter Update!
I pinky promise i am going to finish this work. it just may take a little longer than expected.
as many of you know , i am a teacher in the real world. unfortunately , i am dealing with pressing charges on a parent who ✨threatened to kill me✨ because their kid failed a test.
this is taking a lot of my time and emotional capacity , so i haven’t had the energy to write. hopefully when this gets moving i’ll be able to write more. thank you so much for sticking around. it means more than you know.
dave york and the senators daughter will fuck. i assure you.
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lovesruined · 3 months ago
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" how are you not scared? " aurora cannot help but to ask, her own nerves had to be apparent with the way hands tremor and gaze keeps darting around the area. she was most certainly on edge. / @tapalslegacy.
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shadowscommand · 3 months ago
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syd teaching krueger gang signs
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women-of-malevolent · 4 months ago
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Mother Of Young Girl, Daughter Of A Senator, Who Went Missing
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Tip Steak - Beef Meat Identification - University of Nebraska-Lincoln
Part 32
32.1
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jaggedwolf · 7 months ago
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wanted to read some f/f romance novels set in college while I let the longfic draft rest. already fucked up with the first book I started on because one of them is in grad school (wrong type of college!) and the other is running for congress. there's also a fictional mayor of new york who does not have something deeply wrong with him, which is a requirement for the office imo.
and yet, all of that said, I cackled out loud at how the main two women meet in-person because I got one page of anticipation of how ridiculously it was going to go down. that was good.
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nulfaga · 7 months ago
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forget my previous remarks. expeditions rome is a terrible no good game. (it is so well written i feel personally affronted by the various misfortunes befalling my character)
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