Attracted to unstable dark haired men

I see you all are thirsty for our Emperor Commodus lately so I made a masterlist just for you ! (if you are interested by other characters here's the link of my full masterlist! )

SFW:

Let’s just stay here a little while,  You are feeling down lately, thankfully, your husband Commodus is there for you.

Pampering Commodus, after a hard day the Emperor needs to relax and be pampered. Fluff

Queen or thief of my heart?,  The reader is poor and is mistaken for stealing from a street vendor, and she is brought before Emperor Commodus to be killed but upon seeing her, he recognizes her as a childhood friend of his…will he save her life as a token of the past?

Periods, you have your periods for the first time with your husband Commodus, you are ashamed but he comforts you in that tough time of the month.

Your attitude may hurt me, but mine can kill you, quote challenge, Commodus is having another paranoia episode. 

You should kneel to your Empress,  Commodus’ Empress is mixed race and she overhears people at the palace making remarks about her and her family even though without her, they wouldn’t have trade or peaceful relations with a prominent tribe in Africa. Commodus hears it and defends her.

The virtues of an Emperor,  this follows the moment when Commodus learns he won’t be Emperor, but it takes a slightly different turn, he is not alone this time.

Elysium, Commodus comforts you after one of your friends died

The light in my darkness, Commodus has always been afraid of the dark. 

Sleepless Slumber, Commodus suffers insomnia

I will feed on your hate, Commodus hears people criticizing and it hurts more than expected

My never ending loyalty, male reader, preatorian’s guard love story with his emperor on the Eve of the fight against Maximus.Part 2;  chapter 3 , chapter 4 , final chapter

Everything will be okay, you lost someone dear to you, Commodus is by your side to help you through grief

No one will oppose us,  commodus x healer!reader, they became friends, she has been the only one caring for him, and she gets to him before he manages to kill marcus aurelius and comforts him

Tell me you are mine, Commodus x healer!reader grow together, read as they build that unique bond, and that Commodus becomes the tortured soul we know

Wait for me, you are a healer and became friends with Commodus. You have a bond and influence on the prince that none other has. When Commodus feels the urge to kill, you get to him before it is too late and comforts him

As long as you stay, Commodus saved you during the war in Germania. He named you Pax, raised you as a sister, and made you his peace in a world of fire. chapt 2

The black dog of the Palatine, what if you brought a stray dog to Commodus?

When the fever breaks, Commodus takes care of you when you are sick

The Emperor falls (on purpose), Imagine Commodus playing pretend fight with you, his wife and letting you win because he good like that

Commodus happy family moment, just a sunny day Commodus happily spends with his family (slightly implied Commodus x sibling!reader romance)

The little intruder in the Emperor’s life, Commodus meet a fan of him, a kid of the subburbs meeting their hero.

MIX OF SFW AND NSFW

The world will be ours, part 1, part 2, part 3,  part 4, part 5, You are the heir of a kindgom  conquered by Rome. To strenghen its bound to the Empire, the Emperor has made an offer your family can’t refuse… you will marry his son Commodus, but you are scared of him and he doesn’t want to marry you, but Rome is hostile to Commodus reign, what will be your role in this, will you learn to love each other?

The world will be ours Sequel,  this fic follows the life of Commodus with you, you had two beautiful, children, he is finally happy and loved but then something terrible happens… Part 1, Part 2 

No one will oppose us, Commodus ends up crying during sex that leads to an early end, you comfort him and take care of whatever emotions bubbled over.

Fanaticus, Imagine if Commodus became a fanboy of a gladiator in the Colosseum , he becomes obssessed until he realizes it is love. Chapter 2

Forbidden, In the shadow of an empire, love dares what Rome forbids. You are the younger daughter of Marcus Aurelius, clever, dutiful. Commodus is the future emperor, restless, adored, unraveling. As children, you were inseparable. As you grew up, you became something far more dangerous. This isn’t just a tragedy. It’s a choice.chapter 2

The laurel of madness, you are Commodus’ mad wife supporting him in his delirium, sharing passion, and violence.

The property of the Emperor, you are sent as a slave to Commodus, you didn't expect to become an obssession. part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, final chapter

Anything for Caesar NSFW, rough sex smut one shot

Commodus the whore of the Empress NSFW, Imagine a parallel universe where Commodus falls from grace, you become Empress and he becomes your bitch (part 2 on my friend’s blog   Part 3 , Part 4, part 5, final chapter

The One rule, you have disobeyed Commodus and he punishes you in the best and yet worst way. NSFW

If only Rome knew how much you sacrificed for them,  after the final fight against Maximus in the Colosseum, you find Commodus’ body among the corpses of those dead in the arena, he had been carelessly tossed there as if he was no one. He is alive, barely, you decide to save him. But what will happen if he survives? Will he claim back the throne? Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3, Chapter 4,  Epilogue

You are my Empire, one shot about Commodus being a sub in your relationship, smut and fluff.

The disappointing son, Commodus falls for a slave, prisonner of war. He doesn't care about social status, all he wants his drink and perhpas more, just llike you do.

The morning after, Commodus receives a visit from you, a very dear friend. You decide to celebrate your reunion after years, alcohol is flowing, leading to unexpected events.

At your feet, always, submissive Commodus

Taming the Lion, during the day, Commodus is the untouchable Emperor, smirking and venomous as he spars with you, his sharpest adversary in the Senate Hall. But when the doors close, the roles shift. Enemies in the Senate but lovers behind closed doors...

Ashes of the Golden Son, Rome strips away the boy you once knew, leaving only a prince drowning in his father’s contempt and his own hunger. In a world that fears his temper and feeds his vices, you stay, touching him like he’s still worth saving, even as he sinks deeper into the monster Rome made him to be. chapt 2; chapt 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

Barbarus, You’re a student archaeologist on an internship in Turkey, drawn to a forgotten trail that might lead to a lost temple of Commodus. What you didn’t expect was that you landed in 182 A.D in a Roman military camp. Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3

A mutually beneficial study, you are a young senator, loyal to Commodus but with still a few things to learn. So, Commodus helps you study (or not ;))

The echo of your name, you are in a forbidden relationship with your brother Commodus. As you head to the battlefield of Germania to celebrate victory, his jealousy will be tested.

To find power in pleasure, sub!Commodus x sister!reader

HEADCANONS:

Vanity 

Quizzes

The melancholia of Commodus and your comfort

Celebrating Saturnalia/Christmas with Commodus

Hey! here is your request! I hope you will enjoy it^^ I was a bit mean to his concubine, I kinda felt bad but well it is what it is XD

To be your refuge- Commodus x reader

The Imperial Palace had become your home six months ago. You had been selected as the wife of Emperor Commodus, a fine political alliance of two pure-blooded lines to ensure an eternal rule for the dynasty and regional peace. It had been a matter of pure practicality; you knew of him, he had heard of you, but you had never met. Not until a month before the wedding, when a portrait of your betrothed was delivered. You had been terrified as you uncovered it, fearing to see the monster history whispered of. Instead, a blush crept up your neck. He was handsome, at least by your own tastes. Jet-black curly hair, icy blue eyes, and lips that could kill or love. Darkness wrapped an obvious sensitiveness. A handsome boy who probably had been forced to become a man too soon. 

You had sincerely hoped the young emperor might take a liking to you. But when you finally met him at the wedding, his gaze was anything but inviting. He spared you only a few stilted words. As for the wedding night... it was a memory you preferred to bury. It had been embarrassing, awkward, and procedural. 

Six months later, Commodus still avoided you. It was a fact as undeniable as the marble beneath your feet. He would grace you with a stiff, formal nod in public, his gaze lingering for a moment too long before flickering away, as if burned. In private, he was a ghost. Your shared chambers were vast and cold, his side of the bed perpetually untouched, or he would wait until you were asleep to slip in beside you. He had, unfortunately, found his solace, his warmth, his company elsewhere. 

With Marcia. 

Her name was a constant whisper on the tongues of courtiers, a venomous serpent coiling in your gut. Marcia, his concubine. A woman who had served several men of royal blood, she knew the intricate workings of the Palatine. Of course, she was not a wife of political standing, but a woman of considerable wit and formidable beauty who held the Emperor's ear, and more importantly, his time. You had seen them once, from the shaded seclusion of a balcony overlooking the gardens. He was laughing, a genuine, unguarded sound you had never heard directed at you. His hand rested on the small of her back, a gesture of casual intimacy that felt like a physical blow. What did she have that you did not? 

You tried to tolerate it, to accept this Roman way of life. But the truth was you were suffocating, bottling up emotions that demanded to be spoken. Your self-confidence had eroded; you felt useless, disregarded, perhaps even threatened. That night, the jealousy you had been nursing curdled into something hard and dangerous. You were not a woman to be made a fool of. You were an Empress, and you would not be humiliated by a bed-slave, no matter how clever or beautiful she was. 

You hadn't slept at all, tossing and turning through the small hours, trying to decide how to act. Finally, you resolved to simply face her. As soon as the first light of morning touched the marble, you left your rooms with a determined pace. You found her in a small, sun-drenched garden, overseeing the arrangement of flowers. She was every bit as lovely as the rumors suggested, with dark, intelligent eyes and a serene confidence that only fueled your rage. 

"You!" Your voice cut through the tranquil air like a blade. 

Marcia looked up, her expression untroubled. She didn't rise, merely tilted her head in acknowledgment.  

"Augusta. To what do I owe the honor?" she asked, a polite smile fixed on her face. 

"I will not be circumspect." you began, stepping closer, your silk skirts whispering over the stone tiles. "You enjoy the Emperor's favor. I am his wife. I trust you understand the inherent conflict in this situation." You forced the words through a throat tight with rage. You knew she was aware of her position; some wives accepted it. You did not. 

"I serve where I am called, Empress. As do we all." A flicker of something, amusement, perhaps crossed her face. 

"Do not play the innocent with me." you hissed, your voice dropping low. "I see how he looks at you. I hear the whispers. You are a bed-slave who has forgotten her place. Let me remind you: my place is at his side. Yours is… disposable. It would be a tragedy for a pretty trifle to be swept away because she was foolish." The threat was unmistakable. You expected her to pale, to falter. Instead, the amusement in her eyes melted into a profound sadness. 

"You see a rival." she murmured. "But just like you, I wasn't given a choice. We are both trying to survive by filling the role that has been attributed to us." 

"How dare you compare yourself to me! I am not a whore!" You exclaimed, the words tearing from your throat before you could stop them, feeling as if she were deliberately trying to humiliate you. 

"No." she said, finally rising. She was taller than you expected, her posture regal, making you feel like a little girl having a tantrum. "You see a woman trying to steal your place. You mistake the Emperor's refuge for his home. He does not come to my chambers for the reasons you think. But you, Augusta… you have managed to scare the Emperor of Rome. That is quite a prowess." 

You stared, speechless. The insult was so absurd, so contrary to the reality of his neglect, it was almost laughable. 

"Scare?" you repeated, your voice dripping with scorn. "The Emperor of Rome? Scared of his wife? You are an idiot if you expect me to believe such a convenient lie." 

"It is not a lie." Marcia insisted, her voice earnest. "He confided in me. I know exactly how he feels about you." Though she did not smile, you could hear the smug satisfaction in her voice, a small revenge for the way you had named her. You clenched your jaw, hating this small power she held over you. 

"Then tell me." 

"I apologize, but no." She arched a single, perfect eyebrow, savoring this moment of control. 

"Speak! That is an order!" 

"Instead of questioning his concubine, you should seek your husband's company and ask him yourself! You might be surprised at what you find!" 

"You-...!" Your hand flew up, poised to strike her across the cheek for her insolence. 

"Enough!" The voice was a thunderclap that shattered the fragile tension. You both froze, turning toward the arched entrance. Commodus stood there, his face a mask of fury and anguish. He had heard. He had heard everything. He strode into the peristylium, his imperial presence sucking the air from the space. His eyes, blazing with a fire you'd never seen, were fixed on you.  

"How dare you..." he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "How dare you threaten her?" 

You were momentarily stunned by his raw defense of his concubine, but Marcia's words echoed in your mind. He is scared of you. You straightened your spine, refusing to be cowed.  

"I am her Empress. She defied me, and I will not be humiliated by a—" 

"And I will not have you raise your hand to her for speaking the truth!" He roared. 

"The truth?" You exclaimed, your eyes stinging with furious, unshed tears as you faced him. "Then please, enlighten me on this truth your dear Marcia knows better than I do!" 

At the mention of her name, a wave of anguish washed over his face. He flinched as if struck. He looked away for a moment as if thinking of what to say, where to start. 

"Marcia is only a concubine." He spoke then, his voice losing its defensive edge and becoming something colder, more pragmatic. He finally looked at you, his gaze steady and unreadable. "She is a comfort, like the one only a friend can bring. With her, there are no expectations. There is no weight of an empire resting on a single conversation. She is a moment of peace in a life that offers none." 

His words were a dismissal of her, but they were also a dismissal of you. It was a wall, built of practicality and imperial privilege, and it stung more than any angry outburst would have. 

"You, on the other hand..." he continued, his tone sharpening, "are my wife. My Empress. The future of this dynasty. Every word, every glance between us is scrutinized, weighted with meaning I have no desire to dissect in public. Or with an audience." He turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on Marcia, who had remained silent and still. "Leave us." 

It was not a request. It was a command. Marcia offered a single, deferential bow to you both, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment. There was no triumph there, only a deep, lingering sadness before she turned and swept out of the peristylium, leaving you alone with the man you were beginning to realize you didn't know at all. 

"Then tell me." you challenged softly, your voice barely a whisper. "What is the truth, Commodus?" 

He finally looked at you then, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes stole your breath. It was the look of a man laid bare, his carefully constructed imperial facade crumbling to dust. Then, he turned away, pacing like a caged lion, then rounded on you again, his eyes wide as if his emotions had been unleashed. 

"You think this is about her? About politics?" He gestured wildly between the two of you. "I have not been able to sleep in our chambers for months because every time I look at you, my mind goes empty! Every word I have ever learned vanishes from my tongue!" His confession was a torrent of raw, unfiltered emotion, so powerful it made you take a step back. 

"I stand before you, and I am not an Emperor. I am a man who is desperately, utterly in love with his wife and has no idea what to do about it! I am terrified that you will see the disappointing, ignorant man beneath this purple and laugh. Or worse, look at me with pity just like my father did." He stopped directly in front of you, his breathing ragged. His eyes, now filled with a desperate pleading, searched yours. 

The confession was so honest, so painfully raw, it disarmed you completely. The jealousy, the anger, the humiliation, it all melted away, replaced by a profound and startling tenderness. This was not the arrogant Emperor. This was your husband. 

"Commodus." You breathed, his name feeling new and fragile on your tongue. 

"I have ruined everything." He said, his chin lifted, lips pinched, the muscles of his jaw tense as if he waited for the inevitable rejection. 

"No." You said, your voice firm. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you took his. His fingers were cold, clenched into a fist. You gently pried them open and laced your fingers with his. "You haven't ruined anything. You've just… finally started to explain. All I ever wanted was to understand." 

He stared at your joined hands, then slowly lifted his gaze to meet yours. The raw fear in his eyes was being replaced by a dawning, fragile hope. 

"You are a fool." you whispered, a genuine smile finally gracing your lips. "A magnificent, powerful fool." 

"I am?" 

"I became fond of you when I first saw your portrait." you admitted softly. "From that moment, I hoped you would love me and let me be your peace. Your refuge. Instead, you acted with distance and displays of power. It does not work like that." 

"Then how?" he asked, his voice thick with repressed emotions. 

"Like this..." you murmured, and you leaned in and kissed him. It was not a chaste, formal kiss. But neither was it passionate. It was a kiss of beginning. Soft, searching, and full of unspoken understanding. When you pulled back, his eyes were closed, a look of pure, unadulterated bliss on his face. 

"Stay with me tonight." you requested. "Not the Emperor. Not the Empress. Just us. Let's talk, play a game of Latrunculi, laugh, kiss... let's truly get to know each other." 

He opened his eyes, and the fear was gone, replaced by a warmth that promised to banish the chill from your shared chambers for good. 

"I will be all yours, tonight," he said, the words a hoarse vow. "I find myself eager to court you. If you will have me." He murmured, his gaze dropping with a sudden shyness. So this is what it had been from the start. A shy and insecure man not knowing how to win a heart that was already his. 

Can I request a fic about Agamemnon where reader is helping him to put on (or take off😉😉) his armour?

Heyyy thanks for the request ! I hope you will enjoy it, I'm not sure this is the direction you were hoping for but I found it was a nice opportunity to face a bit the character for who he is^^

The monster under the armor- Nolan!Agamemnon x reader

The summons came as the sun bled into the sea, casting long, distorted shadows across the Achaean tents. Agamemnon often called you before nightfall. It had become a ritual, a way for you to feel cared for, desired by the very man who took everything from you.

You found him standing by the open flap of his tent, staring out at the vast, darkening expanse of the ocean. He was still fully armed, a dark sentinel silhouetted against the dying light. A profound melancholia clung to him, a heaviness in the set of his shoulders that you had not seen before.

"My king." you saluted softly. He turned, and his eyes, shadowed by the helmet's rim, met yours.

"You came." He commented as he went to sit on his camp bed.

"You summoned me." You retorted. A humorless smile touched his lips.

"I did." He gestured vaguely toward the stool next to the bed.

You walked to him, your feet silent on the woven carpet. The air between you was thick with unspoken things. You had been here before, in the quiet of his tent, but never like this. Always, he had remained armored, a god-like figure who would only lift his tunic, granting a fleeting, impersonal access to his body while his face remained a mask of command. Tonight, something was different.

"Let me." you murmured,suggesting to take off his armor that seemed to weight tons that day. Your fingers found the first strap of his greave.

He let you. Usually he would refuse but not this time, showing how he felt tired that day. You worked in silence for a time, the only sounds the soft scrape of leather and the distant murmur of the camp. You set aside the greaves, then the vambraces, each piece a surrender. With the armor stripped from his limbs, he seemed less imposing, more… human. You tried not to stare.

"You are quiet tonight." you said, your hands moving to the complex lacing of his cuirass. He wasn’t very talkative anyway but here he seemed..absent. He didn’t reply for a long moment.

« The sea… it reminds me of home. Of the shores I may never see again…of the faces that have washed away with the tide." His voice was low, rough with an emotion he usually kept buried. It was the most he had ever offered you. As you lifted the heavy breastplate over his head, he flinched slightly when your fingers brushed the nape of his neck.

Now, only the helmet remained. It was the final wall between the King of Men and the man. You reached for it, your intention clear.

He recoiled, a sharp, sudden movement that took you by surprise. He took a step back, his hand rising to grip the edge of the helmet, a gesture of protection.

"Don't."

You stopped, your hand hovering in the space between you. You looked at the dark bronze, at the man hiding within it. The old fear, the awe of the commander, was gone, replaced by a surge of something sharper, more knowing.

"Does it truly matter?" you asked, your voice steady. "Whether I see your face or not?"

He said nothing, but his grip tightened.You took a step closer, closing the distance he had tried to create. You looked directly into the dark eye-slits of the helmet.

"With or without it…" you said, your voice dropping to a whisper, "it doesn't take away the fact that you are a monster."

Your words hung in the air, brutal and absolute. You saw his shoulders slump, a visible surrender. The fight went out of him. He slowly lowered his hand from the helmet.

You reached up again, your fingers found the edges of the helmet. You lifted it away, and for the first time, you saw his face completely. You tried not to stare. The weariness was etched deep around his eyes, his dark curly damp with sweat, his plump lips had become a tight line of pain, and in their dark depths, you saw the terrible, haunting knowledge of what he had done.

He looked at you, his expression raw, stripped bare. He was not seeking absolution, neither was he asking for pity. He was simply letting you see the monster's face. And you did not look away.

« You look so…normal. Just a man. One could almost believe this is not the face of the man who led thousands to death because if his hubri-

"Watch your mouth." He cut you off with a low growl, a flicker of the old king, but there was no heat in them. Only a desperate plea. You saw the muscle jump in his jaw, you saw the flicker of agony in his eyes. But you couldn't stop. You had to touch the wound, you wanted him to feel pain like you did. Rage like you did.

"Who sacrificed his daughter just for wind…"

"Shut up." His voice cracked on the last word, a raw, broken sound. He turned away from you, his hand rising to press against his eyes, a futile attempt to block out the images, to block out you. His entire frame shuddered, a single, violent tremor that wracked him from head to toe. He was not the King of Men anymore. He was a father standing on a windswept shore, and the ghosts were closing in.

Something inside you fractured. A dam of self-preservation, of hatred, of righteous fury, broke and washed away in a flood of something you couldn't name. It wasn't pity and it certainly wasn't forgiveness. It was a terrible, aching empathy. You saw the monster, yes, but you also saw the man trapped inside it, the one who had to live with what the monster had done.

You moved without thinking, closing the final distance between you. Your hand, which had unfastened his armor, now rested gently on his back, between his shoulder blades. You could feel the tension coiled there, the knots of his suffering, through the thin damp linen of his chiton.

He flinched at your touch but didn't pull away. He stood rigid, a statue of a man in agony, as your hand began to move in slow, soothing circles. You were not comforting a king. You were touching a man who was lost, whi jad lost his humanity and in that touch, you were irrevocably bound to his pain. And to him.