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There is no more foul or relentless enemy of man in the occult world, than this dead-alive creature spewed up from the grave.
Mark of the Vampire (1935) dir. Tod Browning
emperor Geta x female servant reader || word count: 4.4k || smidge of caracalla x reader
summary: brought to Palatine Hill as a gift from your village to the new Emperorsā Caracalla claims you as his own, but Geta has his own plans for you when the moon crests into the sky.
tw: anal, p in v, rough inexperienced sex, oral m receiving, use of the word whore, caracalla is a whiny bitch, geta is fuckboy of the era. i googled a majority of the historical events, timelines, roman names for things, and latin translationā if itās wrong, oh well. bad at feelings! geta, insane! crybaby! caracalla. idk geta is an unhinged mother fucker but what if he wasnāt so bad?
It had been months and many cycles of the moon ago when you were sent as a token of goodwill, a gift to the new Emperors in exchange for peace for the small village you resided in.Ā
Other Virgines and yourself were taken in the dark ebony of twilight, shackled side by side into the wobbly wagon driven by the village's strongest oxen. You didnāt dare object, instead you held your chin high, awaiting fate as the cart swayed this way and that, heart racing and blood pulsing as your journey to the Palatine Hill began.Ā
Some nights were still spent awake, remembering the crippling fear in your chest as you watched women from your village being gifted to generals as their personal servants.Ā
Some were given to soldiers as a sense of ārelease.ā No better than a common whore being passed from soldier to soldier, fitting their needs.Ā The others were pillaged and picked like grapes from a clusterā and finally you had stood alone, defiance pooling in your eyes, pushing back traitorous tears.
Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat on ruby and gold twin thrones, identical in size and power. The tension between them was palpableā so thick you could reach out and stroke its ugly head. Where Caracallaās grin was full of mischief, Geta had a snarl curled on his upper lip.Ā
You should have known then. The difference between them.
From where you stood, Getaās dark eyes looked empty. Every so often they twitched as he spun the rings adorned on his left hand. His eyes rolled when his older brother giggled as the gifts from whatever poor village gave away their ripe, untouched women.Ā
Bare toes standing on the marble floorā unable to even grab shoes before you were heaved into the cartā you felt a heat from dark eyes that you were certain would drive someone mad if they dared look back. Like the boiling flames from hell itself were simmering in the coal of his irises.Ā
Caracalla jumped up, stepping forward from his throne, a wicked sense of evilness piercing from the iciness of his stare. His golden tooth caught the sunās rays and you nearly vomited as he strode forward, eyeing you like a meal.Ā
A feminine laugh bubbled from his throat,Ā he clasped his hands together, bangles clanking in a sick harmony, a childlike grin spread on his pale face, āsheāll do.āĀ
You remember the first night in his chambers. Caracalla himself was bathed in ivory, same as the stone walls that were covered with flowing draperies. Although it was meant to be beautiful, the air felt choked, tight in your chest as you tried like hell to calm your frazzled nerves.Ā
The same giggle you heard in the throne room all morning now reverberated off the walls. He sat on a chaise lounge in only his dressing robes, sweat dampening his temples, that same damning stare as he slid his tongue over that disgusting gold tooth. Was he nervous? Drunk?
You had thought an emperor of his caliber would be used to this sort of thing. Maybe not.Ā
You had been cleaned by the palace servants, hair untangled and dirt scrubbed from under your nails. Hints of jasmine and honey perfumed from your gown as you tiptoed toward him. You watched as beads of sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped at them hastily.Ā
āSit.āĀ
The singular word seemed to give him trouble, as if he had never been in the presence of a woman before.Ā
He was clumsy, unthreading your gown with clammy hands, dragging across your skin like a damp sponge. Your skin crawled under his touch.Ā
His lips were stained with wine, thin and shriveled as he pecked at your skin. When you reached for him, hurrying this task along, he recoiled from your hand, shaking his head, a pained expression on his face as he held your wrist in a death grip.Ā
His eyes squinted shut and he screamed for you to leave. āOut!ā āGet out!ā Chalices and gold cutlery were tossed in your direction as you sprang for the door.Ā
Throwing open the heavy wood and running smack into the bare chest of the other Emperor. Emperor Geta.Ā
Although younger, he was taller than Caracalla. His chest was more broad, shoulders stretched tight with muscles. The same death-like stare on his face as he shoved you from him, having you stumble onto the stones into a wall. The cords of his neck strained as he took in your appearance.
He didnāt soften his features as you peered up at him with a fear stricken expression. He snarled, flaring his nostrils at the pathetic look of you, practically in rags.Ā
āAh, and what do we have here? My brotherās whore in tears outside his chamber door. Canāt say I'm the least bit surprised.ā He leaned into you, his eyes burning into your skin as he ripped the last of your gown to the floor, leaving you naked before him.Ā
āTasteful thing, aren't you?ā he gloated, pinching your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger, laughing when you yelped in surprise and tried to cover your decency.Ā
He crowded into you, pushing your further down the hall way until you reached a dead end, his groin pressed into your middle.Ā
āPathetic.ā he sneered, enunciating every syllable the word held.Ā āEvery single one of you.ā His voice slithered like a snake against your ear, his breathing was forced, almost erratic and strained like he was holding himself back from bashing your skull into the wall.Ā
āBrought in here like some glorious stuffed hog on a spicket, trying to impress the Emperors so your village would be overlooked..ā he clicked his tongue and grabbed the nape of your neck, his mouth only an inch from your own, āI donāt miss anything. Even though my sniffling brother may, I do not.āĀ
āEmperor, please.āĀ
āDo not speak!ā he shouted loud enough to wake the entire palace, the veins in his neck stood at attention, throbbing,Ā āa whore will never open her mouth to me unless asked, or you are given something to fill itā understood?āĀ
You nodded feebly, a single tear trickling down your cheek. Geta placed the tip of his tongue to your skin catching the salty wetness, āif you can not please my brother, you will please me⦠otherwise what good are you here?āĀ
He shoved you to your knees, bits of sand biting into your skin as you hit the ground with a thud. His eyes were ablaze as he pulled out his cock. Veiny and impossibly thick, youād never imagined one to be so large.Ā Ā
Geta stroked himself, already hard and velvet beneath his palm, āopen for your Emperor,ā he demanded, the same snarl on his lip you noticed earlier today.Ā
You did as you were told, tongue out mouth agape waiting for him to slide against your mouth. Forcing himself inside, he filled it full until the pink head slithered into your throat, his groans vibrating through your bones.Ā
He rocked his hips into your face, panting and groaning some more as you gagged on his lengthā spit dripping down your bare chest and down his sack.Ā
He spoke nonsense to himself as you tried to breathe, squinting out tears from your eyes as you peered up at him. āThe virgin mouth is fuck, yes, too good⦠impossibly sweet, untouched by another man, fuck, never get enough.āĀ
His large fist gripped your hair, pulling at the root as he bludgeoned himself further into you, fucking your head into the wall surely to leave a bruise or knock you unconscious, he wouldnāt care either way.Ā
āStupid sniffling Caracalla,ā he choked out between thrusts, āincompetent bastard wouldnāt know what to do with a whore if one fell on his cock,ā he laughed and scrubbed at his face, reaching with his free hand to press the column of your throat, feeling himself deep beneath his thumb, ālucky for you, I do.āĀ
He came then, loud and shaky, holding you to him until your nose was tickled by his patch of dark pubic hair. He pulled out, leaving a pearl against his slit to rub against your mouth.Ā
āYou might belong to Caracalla, but you will bow to me, and you⦠my sweet rosa, I have plans for you.āĀ
And that was how it started, how every night you would meet with Caracalla only to be summoned by Geta in the corridor upon your dismissal. Spilling secrets of his brother before pleasuring him with your mouth.Ā
In the light of day, you were ignored by him as you catered to Caracallaās beck and call, and you often wondered if Geta had another servant he preferred during the sunlight hours.Ā
You were a midnight affair, a servant to one Emperor, a secret to the other. Caracalla was a strange man. Your time with him mostly was spent with him whining about the day's woes.Ā
How hard it was to be an emperor, the many expectations he had, the palace wasnāt large enough, his brother was too mean. Night by night his paranoia spread like wildfire, and he became gaunt, refusing to eat thinking Geta poisoned his food, his cheeks began to hallow.Ā
During all those nights he never once gave in to his own sexual temptations, he laid his head in your lap like an infant, whimpering and sniveling. One particular warm night you were sitting on his bed as you did every night before, listening to him sob about his mother and how he felt her attention was elsewhere.Ā
It took a single second of you being unresponsive for his switch to flip. Caracalla raged, flipping over furniture, ripping his draperies from the walls and pulling at his own hair. You were terrified, scared of him for the first time since the night you came to the palace.Ā
Caracalla bound your wrists above your head, and took force between your legs as you silently let him, disassociating from the entire situation, as he kissed a bruise to your collarbone, and scratched your thighs with his bitten fingernails. His inexperience was evident in his approach, in the way his hips held no rhythm, in the way he screeched like a midnight owl when he was close to release.Ā
He repeated the same thing over and over until he spilled against your stomach, a plea to either himself or to the Gods above, I am worthy.Ā
You shook violently, not with pleasure but with fear. You had thought of spitting in his face, but realized death would be your only future if you were to humiliate him during this catastrophic performance of what he would assume to be lust.Ā
Caracalla finished with a sweaty brow, laying down to fall asleep like a babe, an arm wrapped around your middle. A gaudy rouge colored his pale cheeks as drool slipped from his lips.Ā
You felt sick, defiled and disgusting.Ā
Youād rather be fucked by thirty men at once than have to endure that pathetic, cry baby fit from Caracalla. Gently placing his arm on the pillow, you fled.Ā
Missing your village, your family, the man who you were supposed to marry someday, your tears clouded your vision down the winding corridors of the palace. You would have fought to stay behind, should have pleaded to the men that you could be useful to them. This whoreās life isnāt what you had bargained for, death would be swifterā easier than this.Ā
The sweet scent of the balneum made you take a detour to the right, and you sobbed upon seeing the moonlight glint across the soft bathing water.Ā
Desperate to scrub his filth from your skin, the water was barely warm but you couldnāt care less as you sunk deep into the marble stone basin. Scrubbing your skin with anything your fingers could get ahold of. The jasmine soaps the servants washed you with the first time was tucked into its cradle and you slathered until your skin shined like an apparition.Ā
Tears dropped from the apples of your cheeks hitting the massive pool like a rainstorm over the ocean. Caracalla was a coward, a nuisance to Rome, to the Gods themselves. You damned his name as you scrubbed and lathered, repeating feverishly.Ā
For how long Geta stood in the doorway, you werenāt sure. You werenāt where you should have been, and he was irate upon your absolute disrespect of his time. He wanted to shout, plunge his way into the water and drag you out by your hair, bring you to the coliseum and make everyone watch your death against whatever animal he saw fit.Ā
You broke his rules, his laws, his heart raced with anger at the sight of you casually washing yourself. Nobody in the palace bathed in the moonlight, and when he heard commotion from the tepidarium room, he stomped towards it to find whoever the culprit was idiotic enough to disobey. He was alarmed to find you in there. Frantic, shooken up, no doubt from the hands of his flaccid brother.
āThe lamb strayed away from the flock, I see.ā his voice was like a snake, cool and calm but dripping with acidity that could kill at any given time. Jumping at his voice you nearly shrieked at his sudden appearance.Ā
āThe moon has passed the mountains, yet you do not seek me out? Instead I find you here, helping yourself to the royal bathing quarters, as if you deserve such luxuries.ā
Your voice trembled, as you climbed from the water, āI wanted⦠I needed to be clean.āĀ
His eyebrows twisted inward, confusion riddling his features until he stepped further into the room and noticed the marks across your skin. Caracallaās mark. The marks of an hungry, untrained runt, trying to prove himself to the litter.Ā
Getaās face boiled with sadistic rage as his eyes scanned down your body, the scratches of an novice beast unable to pleasure a whore. Bruises from a limp man who deserved a knife to his throat.
āCome.ā he demanded, not waiting for you to follow as his stalked from the room, tossing a long cloth behind him to your awaiting hands.Ā
ā
Water trickled behind you and down the length of your body as you padded on bare feet to catch up with Geta.Ā
This part of the palace was foreign to you, a set of stairs leading to a dark tower that you didnāt know existed, and then you realized why. He was leading you up to his chambers.
Geta and Caracalla lived on opposite ends of the palace, their hatred splitting them apart as far as it could allow.Ā
He thrust open a concealed door and stomped down a few stone stairs leading into his chamber.Ā
It was decorated in hues of deep ruby and scarlets, black linens flanked his walls. His bed was massive, alluring in the dark majesty of its presence. A single candle flickered beside his bed, casting shadows in the deep night.Ā
His hooded eyes seemed to strike with a ripple of psychotic light when he came back to the doorway to pull you inside by your wrist.Ā
Sitting on a lavish wooden chair he leans back, spreading his legs wide, reaching for a wine filled chalice downing it in one gulp, his eyes never leaving you.Ā
āLet me make myself clear,ā he stated, āI do not care what Caracalla does in his chambers I never have nor will I now.āĀ
Geta wiped at his chin and set down the glass, his finger rounding the rim, āYou came here knowing what your life would hold as an Emperorās servant or a soldierās fuck sack. The little amount of freedom you were once born with has vanished, and what a pity that must beā¦but quite honestly,ā he gleamed leaning forward his face warmed by the light, casting shadows of evil on his brows, āI am not a savior to the fucked raw whores of this palace who weep after fulfilling their masterās needs.ā
Your eyes casted downward at the patterned marble floor. āI told you the night we met that if you arenāt pleasing my brother or myself, you have no purpose here, did I not?āĀ
Your head shook up and down, knowing every word he said was true.Ā
āI will grant you gratitude where it is due by saying that you have done everything I have asked of you, sharing my brotherās secrets, using your mouth to fill my needsā it is all very pleasingā¦ā
For the first time you look into Getaās eyes, the shadows inside flicker with the candle light, and you are drawn to them like a moth.Ā
ā⦠however, I find myself enraged thinking of that shriveled weasel dick not taking you to bed in a proper manner. It is not my style to fuck like a lover wouldāI use women to my needs and thatās it.āĀ
He rubs his jaw, as if the stubble was itching him, suddenly stopping to look at you dead in the eyes as his narrowed to slits, ābut you, are a gnat. An annoyance I can not seem to get rid of, and I canāt decide if you are a woman version of the plague or something elseā¦ā His eyes glimmer for a second before he shakes his head to clear his mind, āGet on the bed.āĀ
āEmperor?āĀ
His voice boomed as he slammed down his cup, ādo not make me say it twice, I find myself to be quite angry when I have to repeat my words.ā His throat pulsed in wrath, and his knuckles turned white from his fists being clenched.Ā
You do as you're told, gingerly making your way to the enormous frame and mattress, sitting rigidly. Geta undresses himself, standing bare before you, that glorious length springing freely.Ā
āThe difference between Caracalla and myself, is I know how to use my God bless-ed cock to pleasure a woman, and Iām damn good at it.āĀ
Heās on you in a flash, his breath sweet from the wine he had consumed. His body was solid on top of yours, pale skin never exposed to the sun. Enormous shoulders dressed in muscles that were hidden with robes daily. He sniffs loud, taking in your scent you feel his body shiver above you.Ā
His teeth nip at your earlobe, piercing through the flesh releasing a trail of hot blood onto your neck. Itās swiftly lapped away by his tongue, a low groan following as he tastes you.Ā
āIf your blood is this sweet I would hate to know how you taste between your legs.āĀ
You squirm beneath him as he bites your lip the same way, his canines piercing your plushy flesh and he moves his mouth over the bites, enjoying the iron-like taste. A flood of wetness rushes to your core and you suddenly feel hot everywhere⦠something Geta doesnāt miss.Ā
āMy brotherās whore is quick to becoming wet.ā he says with a chuckle, sweeping his fingers between your folds, his rings collecting your arousal on his knuckles before he pulls them into his mouth,Ā āmmmm leave it to Caracalla to fuck a bitch when sheās drier than a well.āĀ
His mouth assaults your neck. Sweeping circling as he groans into you, his cock rutting against your sex as you pull him further into you, a hand coiled in his golden hair, yanking slightly, a traitorous moan escaping his lips.Ā
Your hips widen to try to sneak the tip of him into your cunt but he only laughs at your attempt.
āLook how desperate you are, pathetic thing⦠so eager to be filled by a man who knows how to fuck.ā He groans when your nails scratch down his back, and he licks his lip to not get too carried away.Ā
That pitiful excuse for a human couldnāt satisfy his own hand, let alone a whore who begs to be brutalized.ā You moan his name when he skims blunt nails around the peaks of your nipples, running his palms along your rib cage.Ā
āYou're teasing me, Emperor, te necessito.āĀ
The snarl that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face curls on his lip, ābegging is a good start, we both know how good you are on your knees, but I like the pity showing in your eyes, as if Iām your God.ā
With that final word and title, Geta thrust himself into you, shredding your walls with each delicious inch of his cock buried inside of you. All breath is expunged from your lungs as you stare into the devilās eyes, a chokehold to your own.
āOra pro me, Deus meus, pray for me God,ā he grunted as he pistoned back into your heat. Your screams filled his chambers, the tower shaking with seduction as he matched your shouts with grunts and moans of his own.Ā
He pawed at your tits, squeezing and claiming every inch of skin he could get his hands on. Your thighs were wrapped around his waist, your hips circling to meet his rhythms. A large hand wrapped tight around your throat, and you licked your lips letting a grin spread against them.Ā
Geta was leaned forward just enough for you to put a hand against his own throat, squeezing as tightly as you could. He wasnāt expecting this, wasnāt expecting someone to match his own sadistic fantasies.. let alone a commoner from a village he didnāt care to know the name of.Ā
His eyes embellished like a dark jewel in a burning hell before he snarled and backhanded your cheek. He had never been more turned on, practically fucking you stupid as the welts from his rings raised on your skin.Ā
āPuella pulchra, pretty girl,ā Geta whispered into your ear after flipping you over, his cock wedged between your ass cheeks. āMea es, mea es, youāre mine; Ā no one elseās.āĀ
His rings bit at your sides as he positioned your ass upwards, leaving his dental records in each cheek before slapping them hard in unison, mocking your yelp as he dribbled spit where he needed it to be.Ā
With no warning he entered your other hole at a bruising pace. You saw black when Geta bottomed out and you swore you were near passing out from the stretch of his giant cock stuffed tight inside of you.Ā
Your pussy throbbed to his commands as he pulled you by your neck with one hand, so your back was leaned against his chest. Thick fingers slotted themselves in the heat of your core until his rings were nestled against your clit. āHow dare you let Caracalla have at you first, this cunt is too sweet, too sinful to not be mine.āĀ
Babbling along to everything he said you simply screamed yes over and over, as your head lolled back on his shoulder. You came so hot and bound tight that it flooded his fingers and spread down your legs as he kept pounding inside of you.Ā
āOh fuck,ā Geta grunted, shoving your forward to gain leverage on your hips as he pistoned into you a final time. A great yell breached his throat as his seed flooded your ass, filling it full and spilling over both himself and you, down to the laundered sheets.Ā
You collapsed onto his bed, legs shaking and quaking struggling to catch your breath. Geta fell onto his back beside you, his skin glistening with sweat, his release coated thickly on his softening cock and pasted into the curly hair.Ā
āDulcis ut rosa,ā he murmured with his eyes closed, licking his lips to savor your taste once more.Ā
Tumbling on shaky knees, you lift yourself up just enough to eye his length, wrapping your mouth around his cock, sucking off his spend and yourself from him. Moaning as you devoured him.Ā Ā
He hissed at the contact, reaching out to stroke your cheek with his thumb āyouāve made a fool of me, you wicked thing, Iām nothing but a fool.āĀ
When you were finished, Geta laid in silence beside you. His thumb strumming along his torso his eyes wide staring into the ceiling, deep in thought.Ā
Noticing a decanter of wine you asked if heād like another glass. āNo,ā he said, still staring upward, unable to look at you. āIām tired, leave me now.āĀ
Removing yourself from the bed you find the dressing robe he was wearing when he found you in the bath and slipped it over your shoulders.Ā
Leaving his chambers left you feeling rotten.Ā
It was strange how he looked at you during and after, he was talented just as he said he was, and you knew youād never forget the night the other Emperor bed you in his sheets. For tomorrow was another day, back to Caracalla and his blubbering whines of the hardships of royalty.
Geta lie awake for hours. Eventually seeking refuge on his balcony staring into the pale ivory moon, silently asking the Gods for answers he himself didnāt know. He had bedded hundreds of women. Every shape, size and color. But you. The little gnat. You had been buzzing in his ears every night since you had gotten to Palatine Hill.Ā
Since the day he laid his eyes on you and scoffed to try to denounce his admiration, Geta silently wished death on Caracalla when he claimed you as his own. His original plan was to spoil the apple from the inside out, use you as a spy to gain information about his deranged brotherā but it became more to him, you became more. But why?Ā
The Godās didnāt have the answers tonight, just like they hadnāt the night before, or every dawn since the night you showed up here. Guilt struck him like a bolt from Jupiterās mighty hand and he pushed it down with the remaining wine he had stashed beside his bed.Ā
The facaded mask he wore these days almost slipped off tonight when you lay beside him. How he wanted to reach out and touch your skin while you laid in euphoric bliss. And he shut you out to avoid something he couldnāt risk. He didnāt know how to love a woman, his love was for war and power, blood and goldā still the gnat buzzed, unrelentless.Ā
Laying in the sex sodden sheets, he knew what his dream would be of tonight. It hadnāt changed in the months of you arriving here: Caracalla dead by his hand, and you, the gnat, sweet as a roseā¦his empress.
š„š„š„š„š„š„š„
tagging some moots: @joejoequinnquinnĀ @choke-me-eddie @etherealxwitch
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please š
summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)
pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader
contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+
Carmyās office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. Youāre not sure how heās keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, youāve never been able to completely understand his mind.
You know him better than anyone else, but heās still such a mystery to you sometimes ā like a language you can read perfectly but canāt speak all the way.Ā
You donāt know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.
āBear?ā you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. āYou ready?ā
Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. āNo. Notā Not yet, baby. Iām fuckināā Iām drowning in this paperwork right now.ā
He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch ā leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.
The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.
Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious.Ā
While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears ā it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice.Ā
His mouth falls agape to say words he canāt make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light ā which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.
āIt canāt wait?ā you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. āAll the restaurants are gonna close soon.āĀ
Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. Heās far too busy ā or, rather, he doesnāt allow himself to be anything other than busy because thereās a voice inside him that just wonāt be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadnāt bothered him so much until he met you.
āI gotta get this done, babe,ā he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.
Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip ā softly calloused against the satiny fabric.Ā
You smile softly down at him. āSo I got all pretty for nothinā?ā you tease with a scrunched nose.
āWell, you got all pretty for me, actually,ā Carmy corrects.
His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle.Ā
āYeah, I did,ā you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine ā a maddening concoction.
You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. Itās hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.
His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you canāt make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood.Ā
āYou know I donāt care actually about going out, right?ā you mumble there.
Carmy hums, half-distracted. āMhm.ā
āJust wanna spend time with you⦠Donāt care what weāre doingā¦ā
You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. āWell, Iāll make you the best damn PB&J Chicagoās ever seen when we get back home, alright?ā he muses with a quiet smile. āHowās that sound?ā
āIām holding you to that, Bear,ā you say, grinning into his curls.
āIām countinā on it.ā Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work.Ā
Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself ā of the space youāre filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.
āIām, uhā Iām gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe heāll let me bum a smoke or something.ā
Carmy mourns your warmth the second youāre gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. āWhat happened to us spending time together?ā
He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesnāt spare you a single thought. But really, heās so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.
You squint. āWatching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend Iām not here is not spending time together,ā you argue, laughing despite yourself.
āDonāt go. Cāmon,ā Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. āCome sit,ā he tells you.
āSit where?ā you scoff.
āIn my lap.ā
āIāll squish you,ā you insist, giggling.
āShut up and sit down,ā he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.
You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.
āNot like that,ā he murmurs.
Your brows furrow in response. āWhat do you mean?ā
āOn my thigh,ā Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. āCāmon. Sit right.ā
You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. āWhat are you playing at, Bear?ā you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.
Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap ā the proper way. āYouāre the one always sayinā Iām too busy for you, right?ā he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.
The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. Youāre forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until itās flush against your clothed cunt.Ā
Your breath catches, and he smirks.
āSo⦠Youāre gonna cum on my thigh,ā he continues casually. āā¦And after that, weāll go home, Iāll fuck you like you need, and then Iāll run you a bath⦠Howās that sound?ā
Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth ā which you can feel pooling in your panties now. āWhat about the PB&J?ā you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.
Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. āAfter the bath.ā
āWhat about in the bath?ā
āWhatever you want,ā he assures with a smile. āYou just gotta ride me first.ā
The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.
Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. Youāre obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.
You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans ā catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once.Ā
Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmyās neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.
There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmyās office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild.Ā
And there was something about Carmy, too. The way heās got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. Itās pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.
Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if youāve left a stain on the denim. He prays youāve left a stain on the denim ā wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.
āYou close?ā he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.
You bury a whine in his neck. āFuck, Bearāā
āHey,ā he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you.Ā
His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted ā already fucked-out, and he hasnāt even touched you yet.
āI asked if you were close,ā he repeats, unsmiling.
āYes,ā you manage through a whimper.
His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. āGood,ā he praises. āGood girl. Keep going.ā
You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.
āCarmy,ā you keen, voice wavering. āIām gonna cum.ā
You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear.Ā
āDo it, then. Cāmon,ā he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure ā not because heās a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. āBe a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.ā
You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.
āAtta girl,ā Carmy praises. āKeep cumming for me.ā
He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.
You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. āNo more,ā you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.
When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. āYou good?ā he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. Heās always serious about checking in on you.
You nod and swallow hard. āāM good,ā you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. āAre you good?ā you parrot.
Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. āIām almost done hereā go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? Iāll out in a second.āĀ
He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss thatās perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. āHowās that for spending time together, huh?ā he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.
my problem is if i enjoy something enough i will be nitpicking. i Will have things to say about where and how it failed. out of nothing but love straight from my heart. unfortunately this often makes me indistinguishable from a hater who has never experienced joy or kindness. such is the amateur critic's burden.
all of my favourite things are like beautiful racehorses that trip over their own feet a hundred times. but they get back up again. and goddamn, you should see them run.
gator tillman is bad fuckin' news, and you're the moron who keeps running back to him for a quick fuck. because when the sex is that good and his dick is that big, how could anybody say no?
tw: sexual content 18+ minors dni, piv sex, vaginal fingering, choking, car sex, dom!gator, size kink, just the tip (it's never just the tip), undernegotiated kink, unprotected sex.
this was the fifth time now. and every time, much to your fucking dismay, just got better and better. to outsiders, a group of gossiping girls, he came across as the stereotypical cocksure guy who thought he knew everything about how to please a woman. thought he was incredible in bed, when in reality he lasted ten seconds and couldn't find a woman's clit even with a diagram in front of him.
the unfortunate truth was he was the exact opposite. he took pathetic amounts of pride in the way that he was able to push all of your correct buttons, fuck you until you were begging and crying for him. you weren't dumb, either, you knew you weren't the only one (heaven knew skills like that didn't just befall him), but he had a way of making you feel like you truly were.
in the back of the cruiser, splayed out on the leather interior, he runs his damp mouth over your neck, biting and sucking at your sensitive skin as a wandering hand slides into the unbuttoned waistline of your jeans.
"shit, you want it, hon?" he groans, his eyes rolling back into his head when his fingertips meet lace, damp and hot. your thighs squeeze his wrist, clamp it in place, unsure of whether it's a desperate plea to get him to keep going or to move away.
and he's so quick, with how he makes you fall apart on his fingers. uses a rough hand to press down on the swell of your tummy to get you there quicker, knows how much you love the pressure when he's two fingers deep and swiping your clit over and over again.
he grins when you fall apart, this violent thing. like a predator that caught its prey and got exactly what it wanted, and you've never felt more wanted in your fucking life, than you are when gator tillman is looking at you.
he strips you both from the waist down, goes to loom over you with that fucking ugly white tank top on and you're practically ripping it off of his torso, needing to see what lay beneath.
he's smug about that, too.
but he's just so nice to look at. toned in a way only a runner could be, clearly spends little time in a gym but the muscle is there, thick hair on his chest and running down his torso.
gorgeous. despite the ugly personality.
he fucks the first inch into you and you're clinging onto the leather seats as if you'll be able to scramble for any sort of purchase on them. he's just so fucking big. difficult to take even still.
you're moaning despite yourself, wanton and lax, arching your back and silently begging for a bit more.
"jus' breathe a little, yeah?" gator's words land like bullets, he's smirking down at you like he finds it amusing, the way the breaths are being snatched from your lungs like this, "you can take me, hon. you've done it before, you're so good."
"good, i'm good." you gasp, head thrown back as he slides another inch or so into you, bullying his way in, and despite how wet you are, your body still jerks back from him slightly, not fully welcoming the intrusion. he's just so much.
"where'd ya think you're goin', huh?" he grabs at your hips, hoisting you back the inch that you jerked, his cock sliding back inside you and stealing the air from your lungs once more.
it feels so much better the second time.
and you can't help it, the moan you let out at the intrusion. he's so deep, sodeep, sosodeep.
it's all-consuming. his presence over you, the way he steals even the most basic of body functions from you, the way he buries himself inside of you and takes root like he fucking belongs there.
"gonna fuck you real good now, yeah? i'll take good care of you." his words are soft as he begins rolling his hips, hands roaming down your torso and slithering back up again to land on your tits.
and he's not even thrusting properly yet, good lord. he's pulling out a few inches just to rut back into you again, short, snappy thrusts to let you know he's still settling in to your tight heat.
it's so much. he's so much. it's embarrassing, the way you still act when he starts up, how long it takes you to begin accommodating him.
"god, can't, fuck. fuckfuck, can't do it, god-" you gasp, nails biting into gator's biceps, and you don't miss the way he hisses out a breath.
"yeah, you can." gator coos, all sweet as syrup as he runs a hand down your cheek, a gentle caress before his calloused fingers wrap around your throat instead, just lightly applying pressure.
he tilts his head at you, a quiet 'this okay?' spoken in the damp air, and you nod. because of course you do. so, he leaves his hand on your neck, so large it engulfs you, continuing to squeeze your flesh gently, avoiding compressing your airways.
"like this?" he asks quietly, the only time so far that he's sounded unsure, but his sharp thrusts in and out of you let you know that it's not affecting him negatively. "so wet, fuckin' easy for me."
you nod again, unsure of what it is you're nodding at, moaning when his cock drags along your front wall and begins sliding against your g-spot dead on with each snap of his hips.
you know you're making a mess. can feel the way your fluids drip down your ass and pool on the leather seats below you, leaving a puddle that is sure to be sizeable. you also know gator will want to take a picture of the aftermath to store on his phone, no doubt spreading his fingers over your cunt to show you off to the camera.
you clamp down involuntarily on his cock at the thought and he hisses, squeezing your neck ever so slightly, causing your eyes to roll all the way back into your skull.
"aw, you like that?" gator asks, smirking now with those pearly white teeth of his, vicious and almost sinister, "want more, hon?"
you nod, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes and dampening your temples. he applies a slightly tighter pressure to the sides of your neck, and you can feel every press of each finger to your skin, knowing already that you'll bruise in the shape of his fingertips.
"crying for me, baby?" he teases, thrusting into you with this reckless abandon now, like he's on a mission, "don't worry, not gonna stop 'til you let it all go, hon. keep cryin', fuck, keep cryin', know you're close."
you are. so, so close. body wound tight like a coiled spring as he uses you, spreading you impossibly wider. you can't keep your teary eyes off of his frame, unable to stop yourself admiring the constellation of moles and freckles that spatter over his neck and torso. he's so pretty, so pretty when he's fucking you rough.
the leather of the seats cling to your sweaty skin, every window in the cruiser fogged up with how much heat you're producing. he's fucking you so hard, there's no way that a passerby wouldn't know or see what was happening. if anything, that makes the burning in your gut worse.
"feels s'good," you moan, a little guhh noise escaping your dry mouth, "can't- can't-"
"i got ya, hon. just take it," gator grunts, and he - he fucking spits onto his fingers, rubbing his pointer and middle with his thumb to wet them, as if you even fucking needed it to get you there. then he's taking those spit-damp fingers down to your clit, circling it with precise movements.
"oh, fuck," you cry, spine going taut as your body basically tries to jerk fully away from him, toomuch toomuch, "gator, m'gonna. oh fuck, fuck, fuck."
you're hiccupping, crying big fat crybaby tears because it's just so, so good. too fucking good.
and it's too late, his calloused fingertip catches on your clit just right and the pressure building in your gut erupts violently. your legs dig into the base of gator's spine and force his cock further into you as you cum, mouth open in a high-pitched wail.
"that's it, feel so good baby, god that's it-" gator's grunting, fucking you in sharp thrusts through your peak, hips becoming sporadic as he hurtles towards the edge, "fuckin' tight, christ. m'fucking cumming, uhh-"
you feel it. every pulse of his cock in your swollen, used pussy. overstimulated and raw all over when he collapses on top of you unceremoniously, but you take the weight willingly, immediately burying both hands in his hair and soothing him.
it's a long while you lie like that for. or maybe it's really only a few minutes, you're not sure you can tell the difference with how out of it you are.
so out of it, in fact. that you ask him to come in, when he takes you home after.
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This month's reads make me miss writing like crazy! Some truly wonderful fics below~
fandoms sorted alphabetically | unless otherwise stated, i think all stories are fem!reader | [fic recs masterlist] | [intro + additional links]
THE BEAR
[untitled] by @lovebugism - Carmen Berzatto x Reader
ā³ Carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time.
DC
Just One More by @dearwalker - Clark Kent x Reader
ā³ When Clark gets poisoned with sex pollen, he tries everything in his power to stay away from you. Until he ends up crashing into your living room, and you have a god on his knees, with your name in his mouth and your body at his will.
Sex Pollen by @charnelhouse - Rick Flag x Reader
ā³ NO DESCRIPTION. sex pollen (dub-con) smut
FARGO
[untitled] by @usedtobecooler - Gator Tillman x Reader
ā³ Gator TillmanĀ isĀ bad fuckinā news, and youāre the moron who keeps running back to him for a quick fuck. Because when the sex is that good and his dick is that big, how could anybody say no?
FRANKENSTEIN
You Bring Me Home by pabbit (deact) - The Creature x Reader
ā³ NO DESCRIPTION. established relationship smut
GHOST
Awakened by @cenotaphghuleh - Retired!Terzo x GN!Reader
ā³ We find our lovers celebrating a recent milestone...
It Feeds by @ghostchems - Vampire!Perpetua x Reader
ā³ Your night is ruined(?) by an intruder.
Ring Ring by @ramblingoak - Copia x Reader
ā³ Your work day is interrupted by a phone call from Copia.
MARVEL
Perverts by @poindextergirl - Benjamin Poindexter x Reader
ā³ Benjamin Poindexter had been sent to kill you, the reader, years ago, but Daredevil had saved you. During prison-enforced reflection for his crimes in relation to Wilson Fisk, you grew to haunt his obsessive thoughts. When he escapes Rikersā Island, he seeks you out first, his north star.
REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURES
[untitled] by @eyelessfaces - Cameron Cassmore x Reader
ā³ Cameron breaks you into the aquarium during his shift for a date.
RESIDENT EVIL
He's My Man by @konalis - Leon Kennedy x Reader
ā³ It was supposed to be just another night out celebrating, until you met Leon S. Kennedy at the bar. You both wanted different things ā you, to celebrate; him, to forget ā but ended up wanting the same: not to spend the night alone.
i felt like i needed a username that was a little less specific, so here we are! i was joequiinn for so long that i know iām gonna miss it, but it was time for some change. if anyone notices links that aren't working, pls let me know <3
Putting the term "male gaze" on top of the fridge until everyone remembers that it refers to a cinematographic trend and not the act of looking at things while being a man
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gn!reader. yeah, you already knew sanji was hot. but you didnāt realize he was packing, too.
18+. voyeurism. yāall are probably gonna get mad at me and say some shit but idc, i saw that video of taz and now weāre here :)
privacy was a privilege not readily available aboard a pirate ship. upon joining the straw hats, you quickly had to get over the frustration at luffy barging into your room unannounced, or the embarrassment of having seen nami wearing virtually nothing.
after a while, the lack of boundaries became so normal that some of them no longer crossed your mind. it had to become normal, if you were going to make it as a member of this crew.
even still, there were some things youād deem as pushing the envelope.Ā
and seeing all of sanji was one hundred percent, most definitely, without hesitation, irredeemably pushing the envelope.
really, it was his fault. itās not as if you knew heād be exercising up on the forecastle in nothing but a small pair of shorts. a small pair of shorts slung low, loose fitting enough that when he moved just so nothing was left to your imagination.
upon seeing the thick base of his cock, you fucking froze like some idiot. you were halfway up the short flight of stairs, the angle giving you the perfect (or, perhaps, imperfect) vantage point to see each and every part of sanji that you needed to, and then some.
god, you were a pervert. the way you stood there and stared over the edge of deck, mouth slightly ajar, heart drumming rapidly as heat rose in your cheeks. you really shouldnāt have lingered, shouldnāt have ogled sanjiās body; the definition in his arms and abs, the size of him each time heād press up off the floor.
the only thing saving sanji any modesty was the fact that he was partially hidden in shadow, meaning you couldnāt quite make out every detail of his skin and veins.
but, unfortunately, your mind filled in the blank, imagining exactly what heād look like up close. and in response, your entire body began to feel tight, so you quickly tried to retreat before you could become any more disgusted with yourself.
when the step creaked beneath your foot, you gasped sharply at the same time that sanjiās head swiveled around in your direction. oh god, you felt red-hot with shame, eyes wide as sanjiās gaze fell on you.
for a beat, you were both still, staring at one another, tension winding tight in your chest. shit, you couldnāt read sanjiās expression; a slight v formed between his brows as he relaxed from the push-up position heād been holding himself in. you began to brace yourself, though you werenāt sure what for.
then, of all things, he grinned in that impish, charming way that made you weak in the knees. somehow, that response was even more mortifying than anything you could have prepared yourself for. you didnāt realize your body could reach absolutely scorching temperatures, but at that moment you were utterly molten.
āenjoying the show, love?ā sanji taunted, yet again made you feel tight and anxious.
the curve of his mouth suggested he knew exactly what he was doing, especially when he arched into an upward dog position, giving another flash of his shaft. your eyes flicked down; you probably looked like some pathetic, hungry animal.
when your shameful gaze darted back up to sanjiās, the glee in his expression just made that coil inside you tighten further. evidently, he could see your embarrassment at being caught ogling, because a delighted little laugh escaped him.
sanji bit his lip sensually, gaze sparkling as he looked you over slowly before staring flirtatiously into your eyes. in that suggestive voice of his, he drawled, āi enjoy an audienceā¦āĀ
sanji gave you a smooth wink, shooting another anxious bolt of lightning through your body.
acting utterly unphased, he once again stretched, putting his long, cut body on display for you. allowing his shorts to ride lower and lower, giving you the perfect glimpse at his girthy shaft barely hidden by the fabric.
in all seriousness though a fandom doesn't die when there's no new episodes or games or "content" to play with and it doesn't die because people aren't as loud as the day it first came out either. if you're still creating then the fandom is alive. if your mutual who has since moved on still reblogs a post about it every four months then the fandom is alive. if there is even one person out there still engaging in, creating for, or just enjoying that show or that game or those characters, then the fandom is alive.
"fresh content" isn't the soul of a fandom. you are.