Summary: Willow somehow wakes up in Ancient Rome. Caracalla likes what he sees…
Tags/Warnings: 18+ Smut, explicit, Time travel, dirty talk, mental health issues, Caracalla doesn't have an STD but he is schizophrenic and has severe PTSD and memory issues, references to concubines, manipulation, possessiveness, period-typical attitudes, angst and hurt/comfort, murder, treason, canon-typical violence, romance, fluff, implied/referenced smut, forced marriage, falling in love, pregnancy, canon divergence, pre-gladiator 2, Implied Consent, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Nipple Play, Mommy Issues, Cock Warming, Cock Rings, Light Dom/sub, but Caracalla is too much a switch fr, Panic Attacks, Mental Breakdown, Body Worship, Praise Kink, Possessive Behaviour, Possessive Sex, Caracalla eats pussy like it’s his job, Cunnilingus, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Predator/Prey Roleplay, Pubephilia, Caracalla has a thing for women with an outie labia, okay? Thanks for coming to my ted talk.
A/N: This is part 2 of my fanfic 'Emperor of Time'! You don't have to read that first but it is recommended even though it is unfinished. Basically, these two fics coincide with each other. Bold = in Latin. Miiiight be getting ahead of myself with the smutty tags bc I’ve attempted to write smut before but failed BUT I WILL try because this is CARACALLA😭😍
Waking up to the sound of snoring is not a common occurrence for her, so she jumps up on her feet and frantically details her unfamiliar surroundings even through the pounding throbbing in her head.
The room is ornate and simply breathtaking. Beautiful paintings line the walls, and the floor has a large, intricate, square mosaic pattern in the middle. Against the back wall is a bed raised high on golden legs. However, it is different from any kind of bed she is used to. It looks more like a sofa.
Upon closer inspection, she realises the snoring is coming from over there. She peers and sees a male figure dozing away, wrapped in the silky covers. He has bright orange hair and rosy cheeks, and his brows are slightly creased but not enough to indicate a bad dream.
That’s more than she can say when a booming voice rips her from her trance. Bounding footsteps mixed with shouting are moving closer and closer to the door. She internally panics. She needs to hide—but where?! Her body is rigid. Her hands are clenched in anticipation. Her head whips from the door—where the handle rattles, it being opened—to the bed several times. Finally, she decides the best thing she can do is hop into bed and hide under the covers as best as she can. Her legs leap across the room to the bed. Peeling the covers back, she climbs into bed. The man stirs in his sleep a little and then resumes snoring. She notices a bit of dribble down his chin and finds it strangely endearing.
Just when she’s about to hide her face under the covers, the door bursts open, revealing another young man with the same fiery hair. “Caracalla, you must make haste! The senates are waiting, and you are already biting into my private leisure time!” He exclaims something in a language she does not recognise, waking the other man up by shaking his shoulders. He then glares at her and rolls his eyes. “Hm. Whatever. I will go to the meeting on my own and leave you with your...concubine,” He grumbles and turns to leave, slamming the door shut behind him.
To which the man in the bed grumpily responds with an audibly confused “huh?”. He rolls over to eye the woman in his bed. He does not recognise her face at all, though he can recognise a beauty when he sees one. “I do not remember bedding such a beauty last night…That must be corrected at once,”
Before she knows it, his lips are on hers. Wow, now this dream is talking! His lips are surprisingly soft but firm with desire. His hands grab at her waist, and she moans into the kiss. She can feel his smirk on her mouth. She feels his hand travel up to her breasts, rubbing at her nipple through her clothing. Moaning again, almost sounding annoyed, she rips her lips from his, immediately tearing her upper clothing off. She will not be needing that.
He giggles ardently. His lustful, bright blue eyes stir something deep within her as they’re now fixed on her exposed breasts. His mouth immediately attaches to one of her nipples, and the bud quickly responds to his licking and sucking, growing into a hardened peak. She moans as his mouth deliciously toys at her nipple while the added sensation of his fingers trailing up to flick her other nipple sends tingles straight down to her wet core. She squirms, her hips involuntarily rolling upwards, rubbing against his, desperately seeking that sweet, sweet relief.
Roughly, he pushes her hips down, grunting something. His fingers grab at the waistband of the fabric covering her legs. He does not think twice about why she wears such foreign clothing, yanking them down. Her legs wiggle, hurriedly attempting to ease the removal. Once they're gone and chucked on the floor somewhere, along with her other garment, he palms her thighs, spreading them slightly. His eyes tentatively travel down to the patch of curled hair on her perfectly plump and round mons Venus. He would never say it out loud, fearing mockery in Roman beauty standards, but he loves that bush of hair on a woman. It is simply concupiscent…a glimpse of natural womanhood. An erotic, animalistic drive would take over him every time he saw his pubes rub up against another’s pubes with each thrust. He smirks at the thought of that happening with this captivating lady he woke to find in his bed as if she were an angel—a goddess sent down from the gods just for him. Soley for Caracalla to indulge in. Not Geta, his brother. Only Caracalla.
Feather-light strokes brush up and down her thighs, sending shivers all over her. His cock twitches in his sleep toga at the sound of her whimper and the glistening wetness of her folds. He cannot look away. His cock twitches again, leaking pre-cum. Her folds are exquisite, peeking out and forming the most intricate large petals. He licks his lips again, looking her in the eye—an unspoken agreement. She responds by biting her bottom lip and shoves his head towards her, connecting their lips heatedly.
His pelvis jerks up against her, and she groans as the fabric of his toga pleasantly rubs against her clit. His tongue slips into her mouth, swirling saliva around messily and hungrily. Their hands palm at each other's bodies, hers running up and down his back and resting around his neck and his tickling along her thighs and up the side of her body. Giggles bubble up her throat and into the kiss, and he decides now is the best time to quit kissing and get down to dirty business.
A line of saliva is the only thing that connects their lips as they part, and it should be gross, but it is far from it. Feeling relieved since he finally rids himself of his toga, he leaves light pecks and bites at the crook of her neck, down the valley of her breasts, and along her stomach, stopping at her mound. She feels his hot breath on her folds, and she revels in the goosebumps it leaves her in. His thumbs press on either side of her cunt, slowly running along the slick skin, spreading it open gently. It squelches as a string of wetness across her hole comes into view and plays with his desire, almost beckoning him to come closer. His warm wet tongue obliges, broadly licking up her cunt, and his mouth sucks at her folds while she moans, tilting her head back. After a few more licks and sucks, he suddenly stops, and she whines at the missing contact. She's about to protest and beg for more when his hand roughly grasps the back of her head, gripping her black, wavy hair. He harshly yanks her head forward, so she's forced to look down at him. Before she can say a word, he spits. A fat wad of warm saliva lands directly on her clit, and she whines in the shockwave it sends to her nerves, taking pleasure in the tingling. He watches her wet cunt clench around nothing, and that tips him over the edge.
Diving straight in, his tongue scoops up her juices and flicks up her cunt, swirling hers with his saliva. Her hands move to grip his hair, pushing his face even closer to her core. Throbbing, her clit reacts to his tongue faultlessly toying at it, sucking and kissing like it is the sweetest treat. He lays his tongue flat on the swollen bundle of nerves, moaning at its pulsing sensation detonating up his tongue. Her hips roll, wanting more.
Groaning, he equally wants more. Resuming darting his tongue around in patterns, he pays close attention to her clit, and occasionally pushes his tongue in her wet hole, collecting more of her sweet juices. She notes his beautifully hooked nose teases her clit pleasantly when he does this, moaning louder for him to let him know. He slips his fingers inside, feeling the soaked walls of her tight cunt, curling and pumping in and out. Her moans and cries almost drive him to orgasm, but he refrains. He must feel her sopping cunt around his cock first. There's no way he will miss out on that. Speaking of orgasm, he feels she is growing close. He sucks at her clit again and pumps his knuckle-deep fingers faster, and she lets out a precious cry, spasming around his fingers, arching her back, and convulsing at the inconceivable pleasure, climaxing hard. His tongue darts down, lapping up her juices, and he pulls out his fingers, placing them in his mouth, sucking her essence off with an audible ‘pop’.
Her grip on his fiery hair loosens, and Caracalla moves his mouth to her thighs, kissing up her body until he reaches her plump lips—juicy and red from climaxing—snogging her so she can taste how delicious she is.
His thick hand pumps his cock a few times, preparing himself, and pulls the foreskin back to expose the head. Pre-cum squeezes out, dripping onto the bed below. Unexpectedly, her thumb grazes against his tip, collecting the rest of the pre-cum, and presses the salty essence on her tongue. She sucks it off, as he did with her juices, with a ‘pop’.
His breathing hitches in his throat. Letting out a shaky breath laced with incredible desire, he roughly seizes her thighs, making sure they're spread as wide as they can—as if they haven't been this whole time. He lines his hard length to her cunt, and plunges in. They moan at the same time, his girth stretching her soaked hole so defiantly. He sets an unrelenting tempo, it is almost painful at first, but pain turns to pleasure, and she soon finds herself driving against his thrusts. The lewd sound of smacking flesh and sticky skin fills the room, along with their moans. She covers her mouth to silence her loud noises but he rips her hand away. “No, mea vita. I want to hear you,” he commands, his voice low, almost sounding cruel.
He starts to move his body forward, pushing downward into the mattress instead of deeply into her. His cock is now in greater contact with the back wall of her cunt. Instinctively, she wraps her legs tighter around his waist, wailing at the new pleasurable angle his cock is in, feeling that coiling tension and fire in her abdomen. “Yes, that’s it. Let me hear your slutty wailing,” Holding a hand under her waist for an even better angle, his pubis rubs against her clit, the prickly hairs stimulating the bundle of nerves, building up her arousing more. Her legs tremble, and her throat burns at the constant erotic noises that spew out. That coiling tension becomes stronger, her cunt tighter as it spasms. With a loud cry from her lips, and a sharpness from her nails digging into his back, her hips snap and she comes undone.
“F-fuck!” Hips stuttering with one final powerful thrust, he, too, orgasms and empties himself inside of her. She feels his warm release coat her walls as his body slumps on her shoulder. He pulls her in an embrace, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck while their frantic pants and the heady smell of sex refill the room, completely and utterly blissed out. She hums in delight. After a few moments, he rolls onto his side, leaning on his elbow, his slicked cock still inside of her. His clammy hand grabs hold of her waist, pulling her onto her side like he is.
Placing a finger on the side of her face, he caresses her flushed cheek and moves a strand of her hair that is stuck to her forehead away. His voice is much lighter, sounding in love. “What is your name, my beauty?” Usually, after sex, he falls asleep or pushes the concubine away. But there's something different about this woman.
She gapes at him unreadably.
"You are teasing me, aren't you? You let me hear those pretty moans of yours, but now the cat has got your tongue?” he cracks a smile, flashing his gold tooth before his brows furrow and his head tilts to the side. “Oh, don't tell me you cannot speak Latin,” he sighs hard but cackles…Either she does not know Latin, or he truly fucked her brains out.
“Emperor Caracalla,” he points to himself, smug as he refers to himself as Emperor. He then points at her, motioning her to give him her name. He recalls doing the same when he got his monkey Dondas, though she didn’t respond because she is a monkey, after all.
“Willow,” her soft voice says, a bit croaky from crying out during sex.
“Will-ow,” the name is foreign on his tongue, and his mouth moves unfamiliarly. He shakes his head and grimaces slightly. “No, no, no. I ought to think of another name for you, my beauty,” he runs his thick fingers along her forearm, intently watching the hair on her arms raise at the touch.
"Tell me. What does your odd name mean?" Willow blinks at him. Her wide, brown, doe-like eyes oddly tug at his heartstrings. “I bet it means sweet like honey,” he smirks, placing the two fingers he touched her with on his lips. His red tongue darts out quickly to lick the remnants of her essence. He hums in pleasure at the taste. Even though she does not know what he is saying, Willow can tell it’s something erotic. She gasps softly at his action, and if she is not already as wet as the Nile River, she’d be as wet as the ocean.
“Your new name must not be any old name but something truly special. I’ll get back to you on that,” At that, his cock slips out and he hops out of bed. Caracalla seems to have entered a completely different realm. He doesn't look back at her—a sharp contrast to the intimacy they shared mere seconds ago. Instead, he wraps himself in a silky red and gold robe, tied dangerously loosely around his pelvis. He might as well be wearing nothing still. Willow tries to avert her gaze, but heck. This is her sex dream—a mighty one at that—and if she wants to ogle at this hot emperor her brain mustered up, then so be it!
Willow looks at him again, slightly sad, feeling his cum dribble out of her used cunt. This is her dream. Surely, she can direct it. She sits up in bed, her perky breasts slipping out from the silky covers, now on show. She hopes she looks as seductive as she felt moments ago.
Caracalla turns around, casually holding onto the robe’s cord that’s knotted loosely around his pelvis. The weight of his hand lowers the knot, revealing more skin, and making his pose more provocatively risky. She eyes the patch of red hair trailing up from his pubes and up his stomach, crossing her legs together to wear off the returned throbbing of her core.
He’s looking at her indifferently before something changes in his eyes. He smirks and states, “You shall begin to learn Latin. I will have the finest tutor in all of Rome come here just for you, my sweet,” he steps closer, holding her gently by the chin, and then moves his thumb up to stroke her lips. “Just for you.” There's a daring twinkle in his eye, and though Willow cannot understand his Latin words, she cannot help but be swooned.
Seemingly saying goodbye, he leaves the room. Willow is left feeling butterflies in her stomach.
This wet dream has been the best she's had in a long time—maybe even the best she has ever had. She strangely felt everything. Willow was amazed at how well her brain conjured up every feeling and sensation, every tingle, every rush of lust in her lower belly she had not felt for a long, long time, revelling in how his hard cock pumped in and out of her wet cunt, making her walls clench and spasm so ridiculously much...
She needed this dream. She loves her job. She has made a career out of singing, mostly operatic, while her best friend, Diana, plays the harp or the violin with the orchestra—but it is hard work. And a sex dream once in a while is nothing to complain about. Especially one with a Roman emperor…
Now, she can relax and let her eyes close, and she'll wake up in the (stressful) real world again. Albeit slightly more relaxed than before. It is better than nothing, Willow supposes.
This is until she feels a light tap on her shoulder. She opens her eyes a tad grumpier than she would like to and sees a young woman in a cream tunic, with others standing in the room, waiting. She says something in Latin, but Willow has no idea what, staring at her blankly. The servant takes Willow’s hand and guides her to her feet before leading her elsewhere. The palace is incredible, with white stone pillars and marble floors.
Willow can get used to this, but it is only a dream, after all...
A/N: Mae vita = little honey.
Hawktuah on that thang (sorry).
Wow so this is really ambitious of me to post. I haven’t fully written smut in a long time, if ever, because I’ve never been able to write it properly and I always thought it turned out bad. So, let me know what you think… Eeek I’m nervous.
Also, I made Willow in the sims!! Well, technically I found her on the gallery by @ m1w4k000 but I did change her nose, body, and hair a bit. :)
hey you. indie creator. get rid of the corporate execs and the imaginary writers room in your brain. the cynical youtube reviewers and disney fans who want sanitized uwu gays probably are never even gonna be even slightly aware of your existence. write those unrelatable blorbos and those messy themes and that weirdly sexy violence. you have no one to answer to but yourself. give yourself what you want and maybe some day, some 3 random lesbians from the internet whose interests you have somehow exactly hit will look at your thing and think its pretty cool, and in the end thats all you ever needed
"if we get another (this weeks problematic media) because of this fucking post im gonna kill you" you saw a post like this thats meant to encourage people to work on their art and that was your first thought? sounds like someone hasnt killed the cynical youtube critic in their brain <3 also im blocking you
"contract grading" "only 4 absences or you drop to an F" "in this class we will be teaching about disabilities. attendance is mandatory and i do not accept late work" "please respond to at least two of your peers in this discussion post" "people with autism need time to decompress in a classroom environment. your class is four hours long with a 7 minute break." "we like to let students learn the way THEY want to learn. please buy our 150 dollar textbook."
hi if ur unaware georgia 🇬🇪 (where i live) has officially banned gay marriage, gay ‘propaganda’, gender reassignment surgery and anything ’promoting’ it. a trans model, kesaria abramidze, has been murdered as a direct consequence of this legislation. if you have a queer georgian in your life pls let them know they are loved and let this solidify why we Need pride and hope cause jesus fuck man
I think the first step towards the life you want is often to just say yes to more things. Accept that coffee invitation from your coworker even if it seems awkward. Sign up for that free class at the library that you're not sure you'll like. Join that club. Book that tour. Say yes to as many things as you can and kill the part of your brain that gut-reacts with a no.
friendly reminder that characters don't need to be saints to be entertaining. and telling a story does not mean endorsement. art does not need to be all about morally good people.
IDK if this was meant as hyperbole but it's literally true:
Adult literacy is low.
Child literacy is low.
Information literacy has shifted dramatically in the last decade, but reputable information sources like research journals and factual news reporting have been unable to keep pace.
We are genuinely in a crisis of media literacy, with ever fewer genuinely factual resources available in the style and language used by contemporary audiences.
It may sound condescending, but we genuinely need to remind people, or worse, explain to them for the first time that art is not evidence of real world behaviour.
So, thank you, for this reminder. Genuinely.
You're correct:
Art does not need to feature exclusively morally pure characters. Art is not proof of the creator's secret, violent desires.
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