You were Emperor Geta's favorite. In the dark reaches of the night, when you were curled up in his bed, your soft breathing ghosting over his chest, he might just admit he loved you. He always called on you, and you always gave him everything he asked. In the midst of pleasure, his presence filling you to the brim, you might just admit you loved him.
tw. smut! mndni!!
Emperor Geta sat on his throne, an imposing figure in his gold robe, a crown of laurels shining amongst his fiery curls. The senators milled about in front of him, arguing amongst one another. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. It had been this way for hours.
He stood suddenly, causing everyone to stop and look up at him. He sighed, offering a tight-lipped smile to the men in the room.
“Senators,” He said, “I can sense you are all weary. Please, rest and think on your conversations. We shall meet again tomorrow, and we shall make a decision.”
With that, he strode out of the room, his robe swishing behind him as he went. He let out a groaning sigh, glad to be rid of those twittering assholes. He found a praetorian monitoring the halls, and bade him to find a concubine and send them to his rooms.
“Find my favorite,” He commanded, and the praetorian nodded, walking off on his mission. Geta strode through the halls, taking his time to relax before returning to his quarters. He wanted you to be ready and waiting by the time he got there.
And ready you were. His cock twitched at the sight of you, spread naked on his bed. You flushed as you saw him, meeting his eyes and swiping your tongue across your lip.
“Caesar,” you whispered, rising to your knees on his bed. Geta made his way over to you, cupping your face in his hands. He gazed down at you, his intense brown eyes stripping you bare.
“Submit to your emperor,” Geta ordered, letting you go. He pressed down on your chest, forcing you onto your back. He removed his sandals slowly, watching you. Your eyes never once left him as he climbed atop you, jewels glinting in the sunlight. You felt very exposed, naked before him while he was still fully clothed, his crown of laurels shining in the late-afternoon sun.
His head dipped down to the crevice made by your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent. One hand was clamped firmly at your hip, while the other thumbed your nipple teasingly. You ran your hand through the hair at the base of his skull, giving a soft tug as he pinched your nipple.
He left soft, warm kisses along your neck and collarbone, devouring you slowly, his lips leaving a teasing trail. Finally, his lips met yours in a starving kiss, your mind reeling from the intensity of his kiss.
“Please,” You breathed as he pulled away, your cunt throbbing. You pleaded with your eyes, looking up at him from your position trapped beneath his body. “Please, Geta.”
He groaned at the use of his name, tilting his head back. You could feel his length pressed against your thigh, hot and heavy and desperate. You ran your hands over his thighs, feeling the muscles beneath his robes.
“Would you ever defy your emperor?” Geta asked, sitting back and slowly disrobing. Expensive jewels were dropped carelessly to the floor, fine fabrics discarded. His hairless chest glimmered with soft beads of sweat.
“Never,” you whispered, your hands returning to his thighs.
He manhandled your legs apart, gazing at your wetness. He licked his lips, his pupils blown. He slotted himself between your legs, his cock brushing against you teasingly.
“And do you love your emperor?” He asked, lining himself up with your hole.
“Yes,” you breathed, holding his neck and gazing into his eyes as he slid into you with comfortable ease. You knew one another's bodies so well it was like returning home to have him inside you, flooding all your senses and consuming you.
His lips crashed against yours as he began to fuck you in earnest, his rage and frustration breaking through and driving his thrusts with a flaming intensity. Your broken moans and whines could be heard above the slapping of skin, and you could feel Geta's hot breath on you as he panted.
“Who do you belong to?” He asked, moving his hand between your bodies to rub tight circles against your clit.
“You!” You cried, back arching in pleasure. “Always you,” Your nails raked down his back, arms wrapping around him to bring him closer to you. You wanted to feel him everywhere.
“Say it,” He commanded, his words coming out desperate and strained.
“I'm yours!” You moaned, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your thighs shook around Geta's hips, and he let out a desperate groan as he came inside you. Slowly, he pulled out and wrapped himself around you, holding you close to him.
You did not speak as you caught your breath, basking in the afterglow. Your limbs felt soft, and you were warm and sleepy in Geta's embrace.
He idly played with your hair, watching you softly. You were held securely in his arms, his favorite concubine. His.
Caracalla was obsessed with you. Your smell, your taste, your feel. You consumed his every thought, and he wanted to be with you always. He needed you. He adored you. He might even say he loved you. You needed him, his all-consuming adoration drawing you in and trapping you like the sweetest honey. Every moment you spent with him was perfect, and you could almost pretend he was all yours to love and to hold.
tw smut! mndni!
Everyone enjoyed the parties thrown by the emperors. They were lavish, extravagant, and only the finest of food was served. The emperors usually enjoyed them, too, but today emperor Caracalla seemed distracted. His favorite concubine had accompanied him to the party, dressed in sheer, almost-transparent silk in his favorite shade of red.
You sat in Caracalla's lap, pulled close to his chest. One jeweled hand rested on your chest, the other on your thigh. There was a pair of gladiators fighting in the hall, and guests milled about the party. You didn't bother to pay attention, all your focus stolen by the young emperor.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Caesar?” You asked, softly stroking his cheek with your knuckles. His skin was warm and flushed under your fingers.
“Very much,” he replied, smiling. His gaze moved from you to the fight before you, a wicked grin on his face. You felt his dick twitch against your lower back as he watched, the pungent smell of blood filling the hall. He licked his lips, his gold tooth glinting.
You shifted in his lap, moving to drape your arms around his shoulders, resting your head against his. You ran your other hand up and down his front, dipping beneath his robes every now and then to feel his fuzzy chest.
Caracalla wrapped his arm around you, grabbing your thigh to pull you closer to him. His other hand came to cup your face, pulling you into a bruising kiss. His teeth nipped your lower lip, pulling the tender skin. The hand on your thigh dipped between your legs, squeezing your cunt. You gasped at the contact, grinding against his hand.
Geta cleared his throat, reminding you where you were. Caracalla shot him a glare, letting you return to your position stroking his hair and chest, grumbling about being interrupted. He seemed to grow more and more impatient, finally storming out of the hall, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you with him.
He slammed the door to his room, pressing you against it and kissing you feverishly, tugging your thigh to wrap your leg around him. You pulled him close to you, tugging on his fiery curls. His hands groped your thighs and chest, flesh squishing in his hands.
“Caracalla,” you whined, your eyes meeting his piercing blue ones. He liked his lips, his pupils blown. He looked at you like you were his prey and he wanted to devour you.
“Bed,” he ordered, breathing heavily. His cheeks were pink, his pupils blown, and his hair was messy from your tugging. He was gorgeous.
You fell on your back and he tumbled on top of you, wrapping his arms around you and straddling your hips. His lips found the junction of your neck and shoulder, planting desperate kisses and biting your neck hard enough to draw blood.
You could feel where his robes had ridden up, his length pressing against your leg. His hips moved in jerky thrusts, grinding desperately against you. You grabbed one of his hands and guided it to your soaked pussy, hearing him groan at the feel of you. He ran his fingers through your folds, exploring your wetness. You whined at his teasing touches, hips thrusting involuntarily into his hand.
“Please, emperor,” you whined, “let me take care of you,” You held his face softly, tilting his head so you could look him in the eyes. His blue eyes sparkled intensely. He nodded, nuzzling into your palm.
Slowly, you got him to sit up and took his robes off. The expensive fabric fell to the floor beneath your fingers, soft silk revealing even softer skin. He held his hands out and you removed his rings, one by one. He watched you, his gaze unwavering.
He slowly slipped off your silks as well, his hands heavy on your stomach and breasts as he slid the fabric up and off your body. He pushed you back once you were both disrobed, his arousal obvious on his face. You spread your legs, baring yourself for him, surrendering completely.
Slowly, he sunk into you, moaning as he settled to the hilt. Your nails scratched his back, your legs wrapping around his hips as you adjusted to his size. You kissed him softly, soaking up the feeling of him consuming all your senses.
He began to thrust into you, soft whines coming out of him in time with his thrusts. Every roll of his hips was divine, filling you to the brim, making you ache deliciously in a deep place within you. Your limbs were wrapped completely around him, holding him desperately and impossibly close.
You rolled your hips in time with his, feeling your orgasm drawing nearer. Your thighs began to shake as you drew closer, tilting your head back as your breath came in desperate pants. Caracalla's thrusts were growing sloppy and desperate, hips stuttering as he got close.
His teeth sunk into your neck as he came, biting into the wound he left earlier, causing you to cry out. That coupled with the desperate sounds he made caused you to cum, your back arching and your nails leaving red marks in his back.
Slowly you came down from your high, your breath steadying and your limbs pleasantly relaxing. Caracalla was still on top of you, no longer holding himself up but still inside you. You pushed him off gently, grabbing a cloth and a basin of water to clean yourself up.
He was sitting up in the bed when you returned, his hair a mess and still fully naked.
“I thought you left,” He said, sounding almost sad. You smiled softly.
“I would never,” you replied, sitting on the bed and cleaning the cum from both your bodies.
You settled back into bed, Caracalla coming to lay on your chest, wrapping his limbs around you. You kissed his cheeks softly, basking in his presence beside you.
“You would never leave?” He asked, looking at you intently.
“Never.”
an: if you liked this, please reblog and comment!!
You and Simon go to see Scream in 1996, and the movie makes Simon more...interested than he expected.
requested by @broccolisoupy!
Tw smut, mndni.
an: reader is written as a trans man but it barely comes up so if you're not ftm, feel free to read!
You and Simon stood in line for the midnight showing of Scream in 1996. Two years after the brutal events of the ‘Sarah Fier incident’ which you and your friends called it, you were surprised you and Simon still loved horror movies as much as you did. In spite of your shared trauma, horror movie dates were some of your favorite things to do together.
The air was frigid, snow falling softly into your hair and landing on your eyelashes. Simon bounced excitedly beside you, his hands jammed into the pockets of his red hoodie.
“Man, I can't wait!” He exclaimed, locks of blond hair falling in his face.
“Me either,” You grinned, loving Simon's infectious energy. You had both waited months since seeing the trailer to watch this movie, and you were the first in line. You brought your hand up to your mouth to stifle a yawn, and Simon offered you the redbull he had been drinking.
“No wonder you're so hyper,” You chuckled as he paid for the tickets. The man behind the ticket counter cleared his throat, eyeing the drink in your hands. You chuckled sheepishly and tossed it in the recycling.
Simon paid for some popcorn and handed it to you, grinning. The hand that wasn't holding the bucket latched onto his wrist, and you led him to the best seats, right in the back of the theater. The small room was packed, almost every seat full of excited horror movie lovers.
The movie played, full of funny moments that had you giggling and jumpscares that had you latching onto Simon's wrist in fear. By the end of the movie, you were on the edge of your seat, Simon's fingers laced between yours.
Simon had seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable as the movie went on, but you weren't really paying attention. As you shifted forward to get a better view, he shifted from side to side trying to get comfortable. You asked him once if he was okay, and he nodded. You squeezed his hand reassuringly before turning back to the movie.
As the credits rolled and the lights came back on, you stood and stretched. Your shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of skin to the cold air of the theater. Simon's face turned as red as his hoodie, and his eyes were glued to your stomach.
“Dude, are you ok?” You asked, waving a hand in front of his face. He looked up at you and gave you a sheepish smile.
“Yeah, just thinking,” Simon replied. When you gave him a skeptical look, he added, “It's late.”
You and Simon chatted about the movie on the ride home. When you got home, the two of you snuck into your bedroom, careful not to wake up your dad, giggling and shushing one another. When you made it to your room, Simon pressed you against your bedroom door and kissed you, a smile on his lips.
You two fell into your bed, a sloppy, turned on mess, all giggly late-night adrenaline kisses and desperate touches. You grabbed Simon's dick through his sweatpants, and he whined, his pupils blown wide. He got a hand into your boxers, rubbing circles into your tdick.
You jacked each other off, moaning and whining softly as you came, kisses full of desperation and love. Simon stripped off his cum soaked sweats and boxers, flopping down next to you on your bed. You peeled your binder and pants off, stretching out beside your boyfriend in just your boxers.
Simon cuddled up against you and you fell asleep, tucked in his arms.
The next day, Simon all but dragged you to the mall. You were confused, asking what he was doing. He made a beeline for a specific store advertising all sorts of movie merch, and a new line of Scream stuff. Simon's grin grew wider when he spotted a rack of ghostface masks, and he immediately slipped it on. The black fabric covered the back of his head, and when you looked into the eyes you couldn't see his face. It scared you a little bit, but you still smiled at your boyfriend's antics.
He picks out the rest of the ghostface costume, and a plastic knife painted with fake blood. As he checked out, you pestered him with questions, curious as to why he had bought the mask.
“Is it for halloween?” You asked, even though it was December Simon was such a halloween fanatic it wasn't too weird for him to be buying costumes already.
“Nope,” Simon said, grinning mischievously.
“Is it for a movie marathon?” You asked, thinking of how he would dress up as the killers from your previous movie nights.
“Wrong again!” Simon giggled, taking off in a jog to the food court.
“What's it for?!” You shouted, running after him. When you caught up to him, he wrapped you in a hug and whispered in your ear,
“You'll find out.”
The way he whispered it sent shivers down your spine, and he gave you a kiss that left you reeling.
Later that evening, you were sitting on your couch, Simon having gone home a couple hours ago. Your dad was still at work, and the house was quiet as you made popcorn and flicked through channels on the TV. Right as you settled on a rerun of Them, there was a knock on the door. You assumed it was your dad, who had forgotten his keys, so you opened it. The face that greeted you was not your father, however, and you rolled your eyes when you saw ghostface at your door.
“Not scary, Simon,” You teased, letting him in. As you turned your back, going back to your movie, ghostface shoved you against the couch. You gasped, trying to shout as he pinned you to the cushions, straddling your hips, but a gloved hand clamped down over your mouth.
The mask was inches from your face, and you felt the plastic of the knife trail down your neck. You shivered, more turned on than you would like to admit. Ghostface leaned down to whisper in your ear,
“I'm not really gonna hurt you,” Simon whispered softly. “If you want me to stop, just say so.” You smiled softly, Simon's obvious care for you warming your chest. His voice was distorted like ghostface in the movie, and it sent shivers down your spine. You pulled his hand off your mouth, and snarked.
“Oh no, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.” You batted your eyelashes teasingly.
You heard Simon groan, and he took that as a go-ahead, running the knife down your body. With one hand pressed possessively on your neck, he used his other hand to tease you.
“You gonna be good for me?” Simon asked, running the plastic tip of the knife blade down your chest. Even though you knew it was fake, you shuddered and nodded, eyes locked on the knife.
Simon used the knife to pull up the hem of your shirt, shuffling until it was tossed on the floor. You hadn't been binding, and your nipples hardened in the cool air of the room. Simon groaned again, grabbing one of your nipples and twisting it, making you gasp. He continued to play with your nipples, your chest turning pink and your breath coming out in short pants.
You shifted your leg and you could feel how hard he was, pressed down against you. You could hear him panting too, both of you desperate for it.
“Please,” you whined, looking up at him. One of his hands trailed down to your clothed crotch, palming your cunt through your sweatpants. You moaned at the contact, your hips thrusting up to meet him.
“Fuck…” ghostface breathed. “Someone likes being fucked by a serial killer,” He taunted. You shook your head, embarrassed. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, the plastic of the mask brushing your cheek.
“Don't lie to me,” He whispered. “You're fucking wet,” You moaned, the way he said it sending shivers down your spine.
He tossed the knife to the side and pulled off your pants and boxers, revealing your soaked pussy. He slid a finger into you, slick sounds coming from your hole. You whined, gripping Simon's shoulders. Simon watched your cunt intently, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.
He slid a second finger into you, slowly and gently opening you up, his motions still full of care even dressed as a serial killer.
“I need you to fuck me,” You whined, pressing your hips against his hand.
“Do you really think you're in charge?” Ghostface asked mockingly, his hand slowing down to an almost unbearable pace. You whined again, desperate for him to do more.
“Please, i've been so good,” You begged, writhing on the couch.
“You have been good,” Simon mused. “You want me to fuck you?”
You nodded desperately, and he pulled his fingers out of you. You were about to whine in protest when he lined his dick up with your entrance. You moaned loudly as he slid into you, almost crying with relief as he settled all the way inside you.
His thrusts were hard and uneven, his desperation palpable. Your moans mixed together, his pants and whines audible even through the mask. You wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him even closer to you, your moans rising in pitch.
He wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed, the pressure around your throat driving over the edge. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, and stars danced across your vision. Simon thrusted into you twice more before stilling, pulling out and falling down beside you.
Slowly, you lifted your hand up to pull the mask from his face, smiling at his sweaty, pink face. He grinned back at you, breathing heavily.
“You ok?” He asked, running a gloved hand over your cheek.
“Yeah, are you?” You breathed, still panting. Simon, nodded, and you kissed his forehead. “I think I’ve got some things to think about, though,”
“Hmm, yeah,” Simon agreed, pulling off his gloves and settling down into your arms. “Who would’ve guessed we’d be into this sort of thing,” He chuckled.
“Who indeed,” You said, running your hands through his hair.
an: if you liked this, feel free to comment and reblog!
#the amazing digital circus
#coquette
#love and deepspace
#photography
