#but I just really can’t see them being with anyone ever or at the moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teddiee · 3 days ago

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Into Each Life: Chapter 17

Summary:

Because how? How does she move through the very same halls Tony does and never once seem to be drowning in it?

Because he still can’t step foot in a briefing room without someone questioning his competence, his fucking biology—like being an Omega automatically makes him a liability.

Carter watches him for a long moment, face giving away nothing. Then, in that same infuriatingly even voice, she says, “I don’t ask permission.”

Tony huffs out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, see, I also don’t ask permission, and yet, somehow, that’s never stopped anyone from trying to drag me around by the scruff of my neck.”

Carter’s lips twitch, just slightly. “I never said it was fair.”

Words: 13,381

Warnings: canon-typical violence/bad parenting/howard stark is the worst dad ever (what's new)

Tony swallows. The dryness in his mouth tastes like old pennies, something metallic and sour.

This part is always the worst—standing here, waiting for Howard to say the first word, never quite sure if it’ll be a yell or a whisper or something in between. The quiet is worse, somehow.

His father turns, gaze tracing over Tony with a kind of predatory calm. His shoulders stay perfectly level, not a single muscle twitching. It strikes Tony as unnatural, sometimes, the way a Beta’s rage can stay so contained.

Bucky could be a whole room away and Tony would still know the exact moment his temper started to fray, the second something in the Alpha’s demeanor twisted into irritation, or concern, or quiet, watchful protectiveness. Steve, for all his restraint, has never been much different—he leaks frustration and fierce, stubborn will like an open wound, his scent spiking whenever he’s gearing up for a fight.

Because Alphas, like Omegas, announce their emotions. Their grief. Their worry. Even when they think they’re hiding it. It rolls off of them in waves, unavoidable, like thunder before a storm.

Howard doesn’t.

His anger has never flared—it lurks. It doesn’t spill into the air the way Bucky’s does, thick with warning and heat and weight. It slithers under the surface, quiet, restrained in a way Tony has never been able to predict or prepare for.

It’s always kind of reminded him of a sealed pressure valve, waiting to blow.

Tony forces a breath. “So, um. Surprise?”

Howard doesn’t respond right away—only lets out a slow exhale, like he’s testing the weight of each molecule around them. Then, finally, he steps forward.

“I’ll keep this brief,” he says, tone clipped. “You’ve done quite enough posturing in front of the Reserve. I won’t have you do any more damage.”

Tony’s pulse batters inside his chest. “Wait a second. This isn’t about me—”

“It’s about your misplaced belief that you hold the upper hand,” Howard interrupts, smooth. Practiced. “You’re claiming to be indispensable. Demanding emancipation. Bargaining with Erskine like it’s your birthright.” He pauses. “But let me remind you who’s kept this entire operation running. Who has the resources, the factories, the staff to build it. If I pull out, you’re left with empty pockets.”

Tony’s stomach clenches at the threat. “You really think you can walk away from a war project like this? The potential PR alone—my God, you’d never risk it. The scandal would blow up in your face. Stark Industries refusing to support the war effort because you’re, what, offended by the presence of your son? The person who was once your heir?”

The words taste bitter, but he keeps going, forging each syllable like hammer strikes. “You’d lose everything you’ve been chasing—government contracts, endorsements. Public favor. They’d chew you up and spit you out.”

Howard’s lip twitches. Not exactly a smile, not a snarl. Something in between, a ghost at the corners of his mouth. “And you’re willing to bet your entire future on that, are you? Seems like a pretty steep gamble just to wriggle out of some bonding contract. You know what? You’re lucky that someone like Stone even agreed to mate you in the first place.”

Tony blinks, then lets out a ragged breath. It saws at his lungs, choppy and staggered. “Believe it or not, Dad, I wasn’t particularly thrilled at the prospect of legally and biologically hinging myself to the unhinged rapist who wants to usurp your company.”

“Stone is loyal,” Howard snaps.

“He’s playing you right under your nose.” Tony’s voice feels hoarse, but he doesn’t look away. “And you’re too arrogant or too drunk off his relentless, second-rate ass-kissing to pick up on the signs.”

For a moment they both just stand there, the overhead light buzzing like it might cut out any second. Tony tries to remember how to breathe in a regular pattern—inhale, exhale, keep the panic from flaring.

It doesn’t come naturally. It never has. Because years of gut instinct have him bracing to expect a slap across the face, a shove into the wall. An ancient reflex he can’t quite kill.

Howard’s jaw flexes. “Look, son, you have no leg to stand on. In the eyes of the law, you’re still my property. An Omega child under my guardianship who thinks a few fancy equations make him indispensable. I’ve seen your notes, heard the committee swoon over them. But let me tell you something: brilliance doesn’t give you power. Resources and connections do. And I’ll remind you, Tony, that only one man in this room has plenty of both.”

Every conversation with Howard has always felt like a boot pressing down hard on Tony’s windpipe. His body reacts before his mind can catch up—muscles locking, throat tightening, the instinct to yield rising in him like a tide.

His biology knows what to do. Knows what’s expected. Knows that when a person in a position of power stands over him like this—voice cold, unyielding, like a verdict—it’s supposed to bend.

For years, he had. Not because Howard was an Alpha—he wasn’t and never would be—but because power never had to be biological to be absolute. Because conditioning was stronger than instinct, and Howard had spent a lifetime training him to fold at the first sign of pressure.

Tony can feel it clawing at him now, the ingrained, gut-deep response to lower his gaze, bare his throat, submit. To show deference.

Deference to a man who has never deserved it, who would take his compliance and turn it into another steel link in the chain binding him down.

His muscles twitch with the urge to drop—to make himself smaller, to shrink the way he’s always been taught to when Howard gets like this.

Instead, he locks his knees and forces himself to stay standing. He clenches his fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. He keeps his tone even, though it feels like forcing shards of glass through his throat.

“You really think,” he says quietly, “that I don’t know how the world works by now?”

Howard’s gaze sharpens.

“You think I don’t know what power is?” Tony continues, jaw tight. “That I don’t know exactly how many strings you had to pull just to try and keep me under your thumb?” He lets out a short, humorless breath. “I know what leverage looks like, Dad. And I know how badly it burns when you realize you don’t have it anymore. Because sure. I mean, this is all interesting in theory, but the SSR sure looked a lot more fascinated in my meltdown fix than the depths of your pockets, or the capabilities of your entire second-rate engineering team.”

He can hear the dryness in his own voice, feel the words drag. God, he’s tired. Tired of pretending he isn’t scared. Tired of dealing with paternal sabotage like it’s some unavoidable law of physics. “You want to bail? Fine. Go ahead. But I’ll make sure everyone here knows it’s because you couldn’t handle your Omega son outqualifying you.”

A flicker of pure, seething anger flashes in Howard’s eyes. But he doesn’t lash out, just inhales slowly, as though forcing composure into every breath. “You’re gambling with forces you can’t control,” he snaps, each syllable methodical. “You’re used to scribbling out solutions in your notebooks, manipulating data from textbooks you steal from my library. You think I don’t know about that, by the way? The War Department won’t coddle you once they’ve got what they need. And once they’re done, I’ll make damned sure Tiberius reclaims every right he has to you.”

Tony’s gut twists, a sickening churn that he forces down like it’s nothing. His face slips into the familiar blankness, the mask he’s spent years perfecting.

“I’m with you… If that means we take the risk—look into the bond, or… or figure out another way, I’m in.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sure.”

Tony’s mouth tastes like acid, each word scraping against the dryness in his throat. But he holds Howard’s gaze. “Tiberius can go fuck himself. And you can take that bullshit contract and shove it—hell, set it on fire while you’re at it, see if I care. If I’m already bonded, it’s void. You won’t have a legal claim. Not you, not Stone, not whatever leech comes sniffing around next, hoping to sweet-talk you into selling off what’s left of your company.”

The words land with the force of a detonation.

Howard’s eyes narrow, surprise sparking for just a second before that frozen anger sets in again.

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

Something shifts in his father’s expression, then—doubt, or maybe shock. For a moment, he just stares, as though Tony’s grown a second head. The moment drags, tension pressing in from all sides.

Then Howard exhales, a slow, controlled breath through his nose.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Howard says at last, voice low and cold. “You have no one. You have nothing. You might think Erskine’s your protector, but once you’re no longer useful—”

“Maybe I don’t have to rely on the SSR,” Tony cuts in, pulse thudding so hard it almost hurts. His voice is frantic, thready. His panic feels like a tangible, visceral thing, and despite his best efforts, it spikes the air. “Maybe there’s… someone else. Another Alpha. So don’t bother trying to lock me to Tiberius. I’ll—”

He doesn’t see the blow coming. One second, he’s talking—spitting out the words in a rush, hardly even aware he’s doing it. The next, Howard’s hand lashes out in a violent, uncoiled arc, the sharp crack of his knuckles slicing through the air before Tony even registers the movement.

The backhand lands hard, jarring, a brutal collision of bone against flesh.

Pain detonates across Tony’s cheekbone like an explosive, snapping his head sideways with the force of it. A blinding burst of white floods his vision, and for a second, everything inside him lurches—his breath, his balance, his ability to even comprehend what just happened. His ears ring, sharp and shrill, drowning out everything but the high-pitched whine of his own nervous system scrambling to catch up.

The sting spreads in a violent bloom, radiating from the point of impact like fire licking under his skin. His jaw throbs, a deep, aching pulse that crawls up into his temple, down the hinge of his neck. His lip stings, swelling fast—maybe split, maybe not. His mouth fills with the thick, bitter taste of copper.

For a moment, Tony just stands there, stunned, his body locked in the kind of rigid stillness that only comes from shock. The whole room blurs at the edges, nausea creeping in at the base of his throat.

Howard, still rigid with fury, breathes hard through his nose. His hand is frozen midair, fingers curled slightly, like even he hadn’t expected to do it. Like the sheer force of his own anger had startled him.

Then his fingers flex, and the tension in his arm unwinds with a slow, deliberate shake. He exhales, the sound barely more than a tremor, but whatever moment of hesitation lingers is gone as quickly as it came.

Tony staggers back a step, one hand flying to his cheek, pressing against the bruising heat searing under his skin. The world tilts slightly—just a fraction, but enough to make him feel unsteady, his balance thrown.

His breath comes short and tight, lungs seizing around the phantom imprint of Howard’s hand. His pulse hammers against his ribs, sharp and erratic, but he forces himself to breathe through it, to tamp down the instinctive nausea curling in his stomach.

For a single, suspended moment, neither of them speak.

Then Howard’s arm falls stiffly to his side, and he inhales again—slow, controlled.

Any trace of regret vanishes beneath the steel of his fury.

His father drags in a breath, glare slicing through Tony like a scalpel. When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Deadly. “Who?”

Tony feels his pulse trip over itself. A quiet voice in Tony’s head warns him to stay calm, to say nothing. So he doesn’t move, pressing his lips together to keep the details locked tight.

Howard’s gaze flicks over Tony’s reddening cheek, then dips down Tony’s tense form as if scanning for weakness. His own face is eerily composed, but behind it, Tony can smell the rage seething, held only by a thread. “Don’t even think about lying to me. I want a name, Tony. What kind of Alpha do you think is going to mate you?" he sneers. "Some gutter-feeding, low-class knothead looking for a warm body to leash up now that his first bond’s already rotted out?”

Tony’s stomach twists. He clenches his fists at his sides, nails biting hard into his palms. He suppresses his whimper.

“Well?” he sneers when Tony doesn’t answer. “You cry about Stone being a ‘rapist’ and a ‘monster,’ but tell me, how exactly are you any different? You’re just another desperate little Omega spreading your legs for the first Alpha who sniffs in your direction. You have no pedigree, no discipline, and certainly no purity worth bartering for,” he continues, his disgust coiling between them like a living thing. “I had at least hoped you’d have the decency to keep your legs shut until the contract was finalized. But, well—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Guess I gave you too much credit.”

A tremor runs through Tony’s body. He’s so close to snapping back— to spitting in Howard’s face, telling him exactly what he thinks. But the sting of the blow, radiating down his jaw in a sharp, pulsing heat, makes him hesitate. He steels himself instead, shutting down every flicker of emotion that tries to claw its way out.

He lifts his chin, slowly, refusing to break eye contact. “I’m not telling you anything,” Tony manages. His voice wobbles on the last syllable, but he keeps it as steady as he can. His lip throbs where it split, the coppery tang of blood thick on his tongue. “And you can’t make me.”

Howard’s fury crackles, radiating off him in waves. For an instant, Tony’s sure he’s about to be struck again—he can see the shift in Howard’s weight, the tension coiling in his shoulders, the way his gaze snaps up as if calculating an angle. Tony braces, breath locked in his chest. If Howard swings again, he’ll taste blood and dust and everything he’s choked on for years.

The blow never lands.

The door to the conference room creaks open, its hinges protesting under the weight of the silence between them. Tony doesn’t move—his body too locked in the expectation of pain. But Howard startles, his head snapping toward the doorway, his arm still half-raised in the air.

And standing there, poised in the threshold like she’s been here all along, is Agent Carter.

She doesn’t say anything, not at first. Just steps inside, her expression perfectly composed, betraying nothing. Cool eyes scan the room in a single sweep—Howard’s tense posture, the angle of his body turned toward Tony, the way Tony has instinctively curled inward, one hand still cupped over the blooming red mark on his cheek.

Tony barely knows her. They’ve never really spoken—just exchanged the occasional glance in the dining room of his family’s estate, a few passing nods of recognition. She’s an anomaly to him, another Omega, yet not like any he’s ever met before.

She’s striking in a way that most people aren’t—sharp, deliberate. Not beautiful in the delicate, wilting way Omegas are often expected to be, but in the way of something carefully, powerfully composed. Dark, polished curls frame her face, pinned just-so at the nape of her neck, not a strand out of place despite the long hours she must work. The deep navy of her uniform contrasts against her fair skin, the crisp lines of her pressed blouse immaculate. She’s poised, unruffled, the very picture of confidence.

But it’s not just the way she looks that unsettles Tony—it’s the way she scents.

Even as harried and exhausted as he is, Tony can pick up on it. Her scent isn’t soft or cloying, not the delicate, faint florals of bonded Omegas who are carefully tempered to suit their Alphas.

No, Carter’s scent is cool, clean, with a sharper undercurrent—something that reminds Tony of fresh linen pressed crisp, of the faintest trace of bergamot, of something precise and disciplined. It’s controlled, carefully restrained, not the sweet, inviting pull of an Omega softened for an Alpha’s comfort, but something steadier, more deliberate. It doesn’t cling or spill into the room like an unspoken plea—it stays close, honed and measured, a quiet warning rather than an invitation.

A scent wielded not as a lure, but as a boundary.

She’s the only other Omega he’s ever seen on SSR premises, moving through its halls like she belongs, like she’s never once questioned her place.

Like no one else does, either.

And she sure as hell isn’t flinching at Howard Stark.

"Mr. Stark," she says smoothly. "Colonel Phillips is looking for you. Something about a last-minute adjustment to the energy displacement model.”

A pause. Not long, but long enough.

"You’ll want to be quick about it," she adds, voice even. "He seemed rather… impatient.”

Howard hesitates. Just for a fraction of a second, but Tony sees it—sees the flicker of uncertainty in the way his fingers twitch, sees the slight hitch in his breath as he recalculates. A man used to dominance, to control, to rooms that move around him, not the other way around.

But Agent Carter doesn’t yield.

She stands there, waiting. Watching.

Howard exhales sharply, lowering his arm. "Of course he does," he mutters. His voice is clipped, but there’s an edge of something else there. A barely veiled frustration that he’s been interrupted. That he can’t finish what he started.

He doesn’t look at Tony again. Just straightens his cuffs with sharp, practiced efficiency, rolling his shoulders back like shaking off an unpleasant conversation. Then he brushes past her, striding out into the hall without another word.

Agent Carter doesn’t move until the door hisses shut behind him.

And then—only then—does she turn her gaze back to Tony.

For a long moment, she doesn’t speak. She just looks at him, eyes unreadable, cool and assessing. Tony shifts, suddenly aware of the way his body is still half-curled inward, how his fingers are trembling slightly where they press against his cheek.

He swallows. Forces his hand to drop.

Carter doesn’t acknowledge it. Doesn’t acknowledge the mark at all, doesn’t acknowledge the overpowering scent of his distress. But she doesn’t ignore it, either. She simply steps into the room fully, the door clicking shut behind her with an air of finality.

“Are you all right?” She asks.

Tony doesn’t answer. Not because he can’t, but mostly because he doesn’t trust himself to speak.

She reaches into the pocket of her pressed blazer, retrieves a neatly folded handkerchief, and holds it out between two fingers.

Tony stares at it for a second, brain sluggish, like he’s forgotten how social interaction works. Then it clicks.

Ah. For the blood.

He swipes the back of his hand over his mouth first, just to be stubborn, but the coppery taste lingers, thick and unpleasant. Eventually, he takes the handkerchief from her, begrudgingly, dabbing at his split lip with slow, careful pressure.

"Swell," he mumbles around the sting. “Thanks.”

Carter doesn’t respond, doesn’t move to sit, just watches him, composed and unreadable. He’s not sure what she expects. An explanation? An argument? An embarrassing display of Omega vulnerability?

She’ll be waiting a long time.

The silence stretches, filled only by the distant hum of the overhead fluorescents. Tony keeps his head tilted down, dabbing carefully, but he can still feel her gaze on him, steady and unflinching.

He resists the urge to fidget under it.

"You don’t like me very much, do you?" he says eventually, voice dry, muffled slightly by the fabric pressed to his mouth.

That earns him a faint arch of her brow, but little else. "I don’t know you well enough to have an opinion," she replies, voice as measured as ever.

Tony lets out a short, humorless breath. "Yeah, well. That hasn’t ever stopped anyone else.”

She doesn’t acknowledge the bitter lilt in his tone. Just tips her head slightly, eyes flicking toward the door Howard had stormed out of. “He’s never going to let you go through with this willingly," she says.

It’s not a question. Not even a warning. Just a fact.

Tony presses the handkerchief harder against his lip, wincing slightly at the sting. "Yeah," he mutters. “Figured that one out on my own, thanks.”

Another pause. Then, finally, Carter moves, stepping forward with a slow, deliberate purpose. She doesn’t sit, but she does place her hands flat against the edge of the table, leaning just slightly into Tony’s space.

“What he wants is irrelevant,” she says, voice quiet but firm. “Not if you want something else more.”

Tony lifts his gaze to her, studying the way she says it. The surety in her posture, the way there’s not a single flicker of doubt in her expression. She says it like she believes it, completely, and Tony wonders what it must be like to move through the world like that. To be an Omega and still hold your own like it’s your right, like it’s not something you have to fight for tooth and nail every damn day.

He swallows, looking away first.

“It’s not that simple,” he says.

Carter exhales through her nose. “It never is.”

For a moment, Tony just stares at the table between them. He’s exhausted, every nerve in his body still frayed from the confrontation, from the unrelenting pressure that’s been closing in from all sides.

Tony exhales sharply, tilting his head back against the chair with an edge of frustration that’s been simmering beneath his skin for weeks now. Maybe longer.

Maybe his entire life.

He can feel Agent Carter’s eyes on him still, steady and unblinking, and it makes him prickle with something akin to—bitterness, maybe. Unfair, really; she’s done nothing but help. But he can’t shake the notion that somehow she’s managed to bend this whole damn organization to her will, while he has to fight just to be allowed in a briefing room.

“It must be nice,” Tony says at last, voice coming out sharper than he intends. “Having half the U.S. Army and every high-ranking Alpha government bigwig hanging on your every word. Meanwhile, I can’t walk down the hallway without people staring at my throat or my… whatever. I can’t walk into a single meeting without someone questioning my emotional stability or my competence because, oh dear, I’m an Omega, and might cry if the big, scary men in ugly polyester uniforms raise their voices.”

He regrets it the instant it leaves his mouth.

He pinches his eyes shut and sighs. “Sorry. God, ignore me. I’m an asshole. I’m just—” His lip throbs, stinging each time he speaks. “I’m not in the greatest mood.”

Carter doesn’t even blink. “Apology accepted,” she says mildly.

“I just… I have to ask. How the hell do you do it?”

Carter doesn’t so much as blink. “Do what?”

Tony gestures vaguely in her direction. “This. All of this.” His hand sweeps toward her, toward the closed door, toward the space where Howard had stood just minutes ago, seconds away from putting another mark on Tony’s face. “The whole walking-around-the-secret-government-bunker-like-you-own-the-place thing. And the commanding-the-attention-of-a-bunch-of-insecure-Alphas-without-them-making-vague-threats-about-trying-to-bite-you thing. The part where you’re—clearly—the most intelligent person in the room, by the way, and somehow, no one’s questioning it.”

Because how? How does she move through the very same halls Tony does and never once seem to be drowning in it?

Because he still can’t step foot in a briefing room without someone questioning his competence, his fucking biology—like being an Omega automatically makes him a liability.

Carter watches him for a long moment, face giving away nothing. Then, in that same infuriatingly even voice, she says, “I don’t ask permission.”

Tony huffs out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, see, I also don’t ask permission, and yet, somehow, that’s never stopped anyone from trying to drag me around by the scruff of my neck.”

Carter’s lips twitch, just slightly. “I never said it was fair.”

“No kidding,” Tony mutters, dabbing at his lip again. The damn thing won’t stop bleeding. He sighs, mostly to himself, shifting the cloth away and grimacing at the fresh smear of red. “This is great. Can’t wait to go home with another unexplainable injury; my Alpha’s gonna commit manslaughter.”

He’s not even thinking when he says it, the words slipping out on exasperated autopilot. Just another offhand complaint, another small grievance on an ever-growing list. It takes a second for him to realize what he’s just admitted, but by then, Carter’s already arching an eyebrow.

“I thought you were trying to get out of your bonding contract with your Alpha,” she says mildly.

For a heartbeat, Tony just stares, the question rattling around in his head. Then he snorts a humorless laugh, pressing the handkerchief back to his mouth to staunch the new trickle of blood.

“Right. Not… ugh. Not that Alpha.” He drops his gaze, exhaustion weighing on every word. “I meant my Alpha. I have one. A… different one. Not the Count Zaroff-wannabe my father’s trying to legally bind me to.”

Carter's expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a shift—something in the way her focus sharpens, like the fine-tuning of a radio dial. She takes in the words, dissects them, files them away into whatever neat, orderly categories she keeps in her head. And for the first time in this entire conversation, Tony gets the distinct impression that she’s actually interested.

"Hm," is all she says.

Tony lets out a short, incredulous laugh, wiping at the corner of his mouth again. “Can’t say I don’t appreciate your nonchalance. That grand reveal just got me smacked in the mouth, by the way.”

Carter tilts her head, still watching him like she’s figuring something out. “I was under the impression that every action you’ve taken in the last few months was about securing your freedom.”

“Yeah, and?” Tony shrugs, huffing out a breath. “That doesn’t change anything.”

"Doesn’t it?" she muses. "Because I was under the impression that you were fighting to be free. But you’re not, are you?"

Tony stiffens, bristling. “I’m fighting not to be sold off like a damn prize horse, which, call me crazy, seems like a pretty reasonable goal.”

Carter makes another contemplative noise, and it’s just the slightest bit infuriating. Like she knows exactly what he’s not saying but is waiting for him to figure it out on his own.

Tony groans, tilting his head back, pressing his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Okay, fine. Enlighten me, your majesty.”

She doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t so much as crack a smirk at his sarcasm. “You’re not trying to be free,” she says plainly. “You’re trying to be with someone else.”

Tony freezes.

“Technically,” he says breezily, “I am fighting to be free so that I can choose to be with someone else. Which, by the way, is completely different.” God forbid one more person in this damn facility tries to strip him of his autonomy.

Carter doesn’t look convinced.

“That’s a very delicate distinction,” she says mildly. “But at the end of the day, it amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? You’re not looking for freedom in the broad sense. You’re looking for a way out of one legally-binding prison and into a completely distinct, emotional obligation.”

Tony scoffs, crossing his arms, then immediately uncrosses them because his ribs still hold a phantom ache from the last time he mouthed off at the wrong moment. “Okay, let’s all just pick apart my brain today, huh? First my dad, now you. You wanna call in a psychiatrist? Maybe get me on a couch, talk about my ‘deep-seated abandonment issues’? Maybe draw some ink blots and ask me what I see?”

Carter remains unmoved. “I don’t need ink blots to see the obvious.”

Tony throws his hands up. “Fantastic! Feel free to share with the class.”

She meets his gaze head-on. “You are not a man who is trying to exist in the world on your own. You’ve already made your choice, Stark. Whether or not you want to admit it.”

The words land like a punch to the gut, though Carter delivers them with all the precision of a scalpel. No unnecessary force, no gloating, just cold, clinical accuracy.

Tony feels a pit open in his stomach.

Because she’s right. Of course, she’s right. He’s already made his choice. He made it the moment he whispered “Yours” into the telephone, the moment he let himself believe there was another way out of this hell that didn’t involve sacrificing himself to it.

He rubs a hand down his face. “God, you’re annoying perceptive.”

Carter’s lips twitch just slightly. “So I’ve been told.”

Tony exhales sharply, his breath shaky, his ribs aching from the tension coiled tight in his body. He can’t decide if he’s angry or just tired. Probably both. Maybe mostly at himself.

Because it doesn’t matter how she says it or how carefully she avoids outright accusing him—Carter is right. He’s not fighting for some grand, noble idea of freedom. He’s fighting for one person.

And that person isn’t himself.

Tony swallows around the knot in his throat. His voice comes out rougher than he means when he says, “You must think I’m pretty pathetic, huh?”

Carter blinks at him, the barest flicker of surprise crossing her features before she smooths it away. “I don’t recall saying anything of the sort.”

“You didn’t have to.” Tony lets out a short, humorless laugh, tilting his head back towards the ceiling. “You’re a real modern woman, Carter. Progressive. Independent. You don’t take shit from anyone, and you sure as hell don’t let anyone claim you. And then here I am, fighting tooth and nail to get out of one contract, just to try and throw myself headfirst into another bond.” He lets his eyes slide toward her, jaw tight. “Bet y’think that’s pretty pitiful.”

Carter doesn’t look away, doesn’t shift, doesn’t so much as blink. “I think you’re misunderstanding me entirely.”

Tony huffs, shaking his head. He’s so tired. Sore. “Right. Sure. Whatever you say.”

Carter exhales through her nose, slow and measured, like she’s deciding whether or not this conversation is worth having. But in the end, she doesn’t let it go. “I don’t think you’re weak for choosing someone,” she says plainly. “I think you’re human.”

Tony glances at her sharply, caught off guard by the sheer lack of judgment in her voice.

She continues, steady and unfazed. “I think it’s easy for people like us to pretend we have no attachments. That we can carve our way through the world on our own. That we don’t need anyone.” A pause, brief but weighted. “It’s easy to believe that. But it’s not true.”

Tony stares at her, waiting for the inevitable ‘but.’ Waiting for the part where she tells him he’s being foolish, reckless, naive.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, she just gives him a long, searching look, like she’s weighing something in her mind. Then, finally, she says, “And I think you’ve risked far too much to be accused of cowardice now.”

Tony’s throat tightens. He looks away first.

The handkerchief in his grip is stained red now, streaked with the evidence of his father’s temper, of his own failure to hold his tongue. He folds it over in his fingers, covering the worst of it.

“I didn’t do this for the war,” he says suddenly. The words leave him before he can stop them. He stares down at the cloth in his hands, watching the way his fingers curl into the fabric, gripping it too tight. “I mean—” He swallows, forcing himself to breathe past the lump forming in his throat. “I never thought twice about winning this thing until him. Until… my Alpha. I don’t give a damn about the cause, Agent. I just want to keep him out of it. I want to keep him alive.”

He lets out a bitter, humorless laugh. “I mean, God, can you imagine? I threw myself into designing the SSR’s golden goose because I figured if I made the war end faster, maybe he wouldn’t die in it. If I put my brain to good use, maybe he wouldn’t be one of the bodies they ship home in a nondescript coffin.” His breath shudders. “Maybe he’d actually make it back to me.”

Tony exhales sharply, shaking his head at himself. “I should want to help for the right reasons. I should be doing this for the people out there getting slaughtered. For the soldiers who don’t have a choice. Like… I’ve got this friend, right? He’s not even over there. They won’t take him. Too small, too sick, too everything. But he keeps trying, keeps enlisting under fake names—don’t tell anyone I said that—because he believes in it. In the cause. In what’s right.”

He swallows, throat tight. "I don’t." The confession comes quiet, barely more than a breath. “I never have. I just—” He shakes his head. "I want this war over before it can take him away from me."

There. He’s said it. He waits for the judgment.

Carter doesn’t give it to him.

Instead, she tilts her head just slightly, eyes locked onto his, sharp and unreadable. “And what, exactly, is wrong with fighting for the people you love?”

Tony blinks. “What?”

She exhales through her nose, slow and deliberate. “Do you think war is won by selflessness, Stark? That everyone out there, every soldier, every scientist, every strategist fighting to end this war is doing it out of some moral obligation?” She shakes her head. “People don’t fight for causes. They fight for their families. Their lovers. Their friends. They fight to protect the people they care about.”

Tony swallows.

Carter’s expression is unreadable, but her voice is firm. “You think your friend fights to enlist because he believes in war? In violence?” she asks. “Or do you think he fights because he believes in something worth protecting?”

Tony stares at her, lips parted, but no words come out.

Carter straightens, smoothing a hand down her sleeve. “You’re not selfish, Stark. You’re human. And if your work ends this war faster, if it saves lives—even if the only life you’re thinking about is his—then that’s more than enough.”

Tony’s throat feels tight, his breath shallow as he presses his lips together and stares down at his hands. The handkerchief between his fingers is stiff with drying blood, its fabric crumpled where he’s been gripping it too hard. He swallows against the knot in his throat, lets Carter’s words settle in the spaces between the bruises, the ache of his ribs, the raw sting of his split lip.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Look,” he starts, voice hoarse. He doesn’t lift his gaze to her, not yet. “I’m not running from one contract just to jump into another because I’m incapable of standing on my own two feet. That’s not—” He hesitates, frustrated by the way the words tangle, by how impossible it is to explain something so visceral. “It’s not that I need an Alpha. I don’t. I know how to be on my own. Lord knows I’ve had plenty of practice.”

He exhales sharply, staring at his hands. “But I’ve spent my whole life being told what to do. Where to go, who to speak to, what I’m allowed to study—did they have Omega boarding schools in England? God, I hope not. Absolutely useless. Worst experience of my life. Anyway, as if that wasn’t enough, then Dad decides my bond for me, ties my future to his skeevy business associate who’s useless to do anything except make vague threats pertaining to fantasies he pictures with my mouth.”

Carter doesn’t interrupt. She just waits, silent and watchful.

Tony swallows again, voice dropping lower. “But B—my Alpha… He’s different. He’s the first thing I’ve ever really chosen for myself. The first decision I made that wasn’t dictated by someone else’s plan.” A flicker of a smile ghosts across his face, there and gone in a breath. “He gave me a choice, you know? Didn’t look at me like some prize, or a burden, or a little tool to be bartered for political favors. He just… he sees me as me.”

The silence in the room feels heavier somehow, charged with the quiet hum of overhead lights and all the unspoken words hovering in the space between them.

Tony forces a small laugh that comes out more like a wheeze. “And for some insane reason, he chose me back. Don’t ask me why—haven’t figured that out for myself. Maybe he’s got terrible taste. Hell, maybe he doesn’t know any better yet.”

Carter’s gaze never wavers, but Tony can’t bring himself to meet it. “And I don’t know if it’ll last,” he admits. “If I get out of… all this, if I’m not bound to Stone or forced into another sham contract, I don’t even know if he’ll still—” He trails off, swallowing. “Sometimes I think I’m just waiting to wake up and find out he’s realized how much of a mess I am. That I’m not worth it.”

He finally dares to glance up. Carter’s expression remains unreadable, but there’s a sharpness in her gaze—assessing, measured, like she’s weighing his words rather than offering him comfort.

“And yet you’re fighting anyway,” she says, tone calm, matter-of-fact. “Because that possibility—that choice you made—is worth it to you.”

Tony exhales, shoulders sagging. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “He’s… worth it.”

A beat passes. Carter inclines her head slowly, the faintest hint of an approving tilt to her mouth. “Then I’d say you’re braver than you give yourself credit for,” she says. “Bond or no bond.”

Tony can’t help the tiny laugh that pushes past his lips. “Brave. Right,” he says, voice edged with lingering self-deprecation. “I feel real brave with my father’s fingerprints swelling into my face.”

Carter regards him levelly. “Bravery isn’t about never getting hurt, Stark. It’s about refusing to stay hurt.” She lets those words hang for a moment, then smooths a hand over her sleeve, as though tidying some invisible wrinkle. “Remember that.”

Tony nods, quiet, not sure what else to say. There’s a warmth curling in his chest—a hesitant spark that might be hope. Or gratitude. Or both.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Carter straightens, gaze shifting toward the door. “We’ve been gone long enough. Colonel Phillips will start asking questions if we linger.” A small, wry smile tugs at her lips. “Let’s keep your secrets your own, shall we?”

Tony nods, pushing himself up from the chair. He’s sore, exhausted, and his face feels like it’s been dragged over sandpaper, but at least this conversation is over—he’s never been any good at these soul-searching, feelings-laden exchanges.

“Agent Carter,” he says quietly, just before she can open the door.

She turns, one brow arched in inquiry.

He wets his cracked lips, doesn’t know quite how to phrase it, so he just says, “Thanks.”

And then he waves his bloodied handkerchief for emphasis.

Carter’s expression doesn’t change much, but there’s the barest hint of something softer in her eyes. A flicker of acknowledgment, maybe. She tilts her head, regarding him for a moment.

Then, with the kind of effortless poise that Tony envies, she says, “Call me Peggy.”

Something about that catches him off guard—knocks him off balance just a little, but in a way that isn’t unpleasant. He exhales a small, surprised huff of laughter. “Call me Tony,” he returns, his lips quirking in what might actually be a semblance of a genuine smile.

Peggy Carter holds his gaze for a beat longer, then, without another word, turns and opens the door, stepping smoothly into the corridor.

Tony follows.

***

A week crawls by.

Tony loses himself in the hum of the labs, in half-finished sketches, in the sterile glow of overhead fluorescents. It’s easier to bury his anxiety in the Rebirth Chamber’s schematics than to stare at the gray walls of his makeshift quarters, counting the minutes he’s been cut off from everyone who matters. He’s sleeping worse—nights of fitful dozing on the rickety cot, jerking awake from fragmented dreams of Bucky’s voice calling for him through a haze of radio static.

He’s halfway through re-checking the newest coil alignment calculations when the same guard from before—Bentley? Ballentine?—clears his throat at the lab door.

“Mr. Stark,” the guard says with an odd note in his voice, “communications desk asked me to bring this to you.”

He holds out a single envelope. Plain, unadorned. Tony’s name is scrawled in familiar handwriting across the front.

Time drops out from under him.

The lab noise around him fades: the low whir of machines, the clatter of engineering tools, Reynolds’s distant conversation with a technician. Tony can only stare at the envelope in the guard’s hand.

It takes a moment before his fingers remember how to move. He grabs it, trying to pretend his pulse isn’t hammering in his throat. “Th—thank you,” he manages, voice rasping.

The guard nods curtly. “I’ll, uh, give you a moment.”

Tony nods, not really paying attention as the man steps away. The envelope feels impossibly heavy in his grip, like it weighs more than the entire Rebirth Chamber. Like it might sink him through the polished linoleum if he doesn’t open it soon.

He wants to tear it open here and now, but his nerves flutter, chest constricting with a sudden spike of fear. What if Bucky’s furious? What if he’s written Tony off, if he’s decided he can’t be bothered with an Omega too mired in secrets and chaos?

Tony swallows hard. Carefully, he tucks the letter into the folder of half-sketched design notes, ignoring the curious glance from a passing engineer. “I’m going to—uh—take a short break,” he mumbles to no one in particular. Then, before Reynolds or any other engineer can question him, Tony slips out of the lab and down the corridor, making for the nearest empty storeroom.

The SSR complex is a maze, but he’s memorized enough of it to find a sliver of privacy.

Eventually, he locates a supply closet, partially open, housing shelves of metal parts and rolled blueprints. Tony ducks inside, flicks on the single overhead bulb, and slides the door shut behind him.

Breathing hard, he fishes the envelope from his folder. The handwriting on the front—it’s definitely Bucky’s. Tony’s eyes burn at the sight of each looped letter, the smudge of ink where Bucky’s pen likely paused.

He’s both starved for this and viscerally terrified.

God, just open it.

His throat is dry. With trembling fingers, he slides one nail under the flap, breaking the seal. Inside is a single sheet of paper, folded into thirds. He takes a shaky breath and unfolds it.

He almost can’t read at first, eyes blurring with panic. Then the words come into focus—short, sparse, too few:

T—

I got your letter. I’m glad you’re okay.

Steve’s fine. (Even if I did have to bail him out of another fight—next time, I’m charging interest.)

I don’t know what’s happening over there. I don’t know if it’s Tiberius. But if you think for one second that I’m just going to sit tight and wait for news while you’re tangled up in some goddamn contract you don’t want, you’re out of your mind.

Whatever mess you’re dealing with, you’re not dealing with it alone. I don’t care what it takes, or how long—I’ll find a way.

Just come home to me.

—B

That last line sears into Tony like a hot brand.

His eyes sting. Slowly, he sinks onto a nearby crate, letter clutched tight in his hands, heart pounding so hard it hurts.

He grips the letter like a lifeline, his pulse roaring in his ears. Come home to me. He reads the words over and over, tracing the ink with his eyes until they blur, until he has to blink rapidly to keep from breaking.

His fingers clench tighter. He bites his lip so hard it splits anew. He wants to go home. God, he wants to go home.

But he can’t—not yet. He doesn’t even know how much longer he’ll be here. Two weeks? A month? As long as it takes for Phillips and Brandt to sign off on his legal emancipation, for Erskine to declare the chamber temporarily viable, for them to finally unchain him from this cold, fluorescent prison.

But Bucky’s waiting for him. Bucky’s looking for him.

Bucky doesn’t know he’s safe.

A low sound escapes Tony’s throat, barely more than a breath. He presses the letter against his chest, curling over it like it might somehow anchor him.

He re-reads it over and over, letting each sentence burrow into the hollow ache in his chest. Bucky’s words are sparse, but the fierce protectiveness bleeds through. Bucky’s no poet either, but that final line—

Just come home to me.

But he can’t. Not yet.

Quietly, Tony folds Bucky’s letter, fingers lingering on the words. He can’t answer—he already used up his one precious missive. The idea of Bucky pacing the apartment, waiting for a response that won’t come, makes Tony’s stomach twist. I’m sorry, Tony thinks, cramming the letter into his pocket like a lifeline. Just a little longer.

Swallowing thickly, Tony forces himself upright. He can’t break down here. Not now. There’s still too much to do—calculations, design checks, binding legalities—and no one else is going to secure his freedom for him.

He straightens his shoulders, tucks the letter securely into his pocket, and heads back into the corridor. Another day, another test, another step toward the life he wants.

Because eventually, he’ll be able to slip out of this place for good. And when he does, he’ll go straight to Bucky, slip his arms around that stubborn, reckless Alpha, and maybe this time, he’ll even say the words he’s never said out loud.

Tony’s halfway to the lab when he spots Dr. Erskine, emerging from a side office with a stack of notes clutched in one hand. The older man looks tired—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders drooping under the weight of too many secrets. But at the sight of Tony, he manages a small, weary smile.

“Ah, Tony,” Erskine says softly, adjusting his glasses. “I was hoping to find you. I have a question about the latest meltdown logs—”

“Doc,” Tony interrupts, voice rough. He doesn’t mean to be abrupt, but the turmoil inside him is threatening to boil over. He glances around, making sure no one’s loitering within earshot. The corridor is mostly empty, the overhead fluorescents buzzing faintly. “Can we… talk somewhere? Privately?”

Erskine’s brow wrinkles in mild concern. “Of course.” He gestures toward a nearby alcove—a small storage nook they sometimes use for impromptu meetings when the rest of the lab is too crowded. “Shall we?”

Tony nods, following him in. It’s not the grandest space—just a cramped corner with a battered metal table and a couple of stools—but it’s private enough. Erskine sets his notes down, then perches on one of the stools, folding his hands in his lap and looking at Tony with kind patience.

Tony stands for a moment, arms folded tight across his chest. He takes a steadying breath, heart thudding. The question that’s been gnawing at him for days is right on the tip of his tongue, but saying it feels like a risk he can’t afford. What if Erskine says no?

But… he has to ask. Because if there’s one man in the SSR who might have the leverage—and the empathy—to help, it’s the quirky German in front of him.

“Doc,” Tony begins, voice hoarse. “I know you�� you’ve pulled off a lotta strings already. The legal manipulations, the hush-hush contract amendments, my bonding contract being sidelined…” He trails off, mouth dry.

Erskine watches him with a gentle curiosity. “Yes?”

Tony presses his lips together. “This war,” he says heavily. “It’s… it’s going to keep going. Right? Even if we’re somehow successful in creating a magical team of biologically enhanced soldiers, or whatever, it’s not like all this just ends tomorrow.”

Erskine sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sadly, no. Even with this chamber—assuming we are successful—it will not end the war overnight. There are many battles yet to come.”

Tony nods, looking down, knuckles white as he grips the back of the spare stool. “Right. And… and that means more drafts, more call-ups, more men shipped off to fight. My—” His voice catches; he swallows. “My Alpha might… get caught up in that. He will. He’s eligible. He’s not the type to run, either.”

Erskine’s expression shifts into one of understanding. "Ah, I see.”

Tony rubs the heel of his palm against his temple, feeling a headache lurking. “You’ve got so many connections. You made the War Department jump through hoops to get me emancipated—thank you, for that, by the way, seriously—you’re basically bending entire military protocols to give me a shot at finishing this meltdown fix.” He bites his lip, summoning the courage to ask. “So, maybe… maybe you could help me with this, too? Could you keep him from being drafted?”

He doesn’t say Bucky’s name—he never has, not to Erskine, not to anyone here—but he can’t hide the desperation in his voice. “I mean, if the SSR can overrule state guardianship laws, can’t you do something about a local draft board? Delay his deployment, or… or relocate him, or give him some exemption? He’s not—I can’t—”

He breaks off, heart hammering in his chest. Don’t beg, some prideful part of him warns.

For a long moment, Erskine just looks at him, brow creased in sympathy.

“Tony,” he says at last, quietly. “I wish I could say yes. That I could move a few chess pieces around and keep your Alpha safe from this war.”

Tony’s stomach twists with dread. “But…?”

Erskine sighs. “But it’s not so simple. Project Rebirth— this is a research division, primarily, under the Strategic Scientific Reserve umbrella. We do not have broad authority over the general conscription process. We have some influence—enough to secure you an emancipation, because that was tied directly to our project’s secrecy and our immediate need for your specialized skill. It was a national security matter.” He taps his fingertips together, expression pensive. “Delaying or denying a draft notice for an Alpha soldier is… a far bigger matter. It would raise red flags at the War Department. People would ask questions we can’t answer.”

“But you can push the War Department around for me,” Tony insists, voice cracking. “Why not for— for him?”

Erskine shakes his head gently. “We only pushed them because losing you to your Alpha contract, in this case, would have meant losing our chamber progress. And that, in their eyes, was catastrophic enough to justify rewriting certain rules.” He gives Tony a sad, apologetic look. “I do not have unlimited power, my boy. Nor do I have the authority to reorder draft protocols for personal reasons—especially not without revealing certain SSR confidences that must remain secret.”

Tony stands there, reeling. His fingers clench the stool’s metal edge so hard it digs into his palms. His ribs feel like they’re closing in on his lungs. “But… we found those loopholes for me. We rewrote entire sections of federal guardianship code. You’re telling me that we can’t just—”

Erskine sets his notes down, folding his hands atop them. The small lines around his eyes deepen in sympathetic regret. “We did not rewrite the code for you, Tony—only for the project. The War Department didn’t care about you because they admired your independence.” He sighs, adjusting his glasses. “They only cared that losing you meant losing a vital piece of technological construction. That was sufficient leverage for me to plead your case. It was essential to national security, so they indulged my demands.”

Tony’s jaw works soundlessly for a moment, like a fish out of water. “Right,” he manages. “And… my Alpha wouldn’t matter to them.”

Erskine’s shoulders sag at Tony’s weary tone. “I’m truly sorry,” he says softly. “But in their eyes, I’ll remind you, your Alpha simply does not exist. Not legally. And even if he did, he would not be an asset to this project. Therefore, he’s just another potential draftee under the War Department’s purview.”

Tony presses the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, breathing through the dizzy tangle of frustration and despair. “What if—” He breaks off, licking his lips. “What if I… if we bonded, actually. Like, fully bonded.” The last words come out in a low rush, voice trembling with a desperation he can’t fully conceal. “I mean, there’s no worry of someone else claiming me if I’m already bonded, right? Couldn’t it be the same principle? The SSR wants me, needs me, so they—”

Erskine raises a calming hand. “Ah, Tony. I fear it doesn’t work like that. The special clauses we invoked to nullify your father’s arrangement hinged on your essential role, plus the unique vulnerability of an unbonded Omega engineer in a top-secret project. The War Department was… let’s say, uniquely motivated to ensure you remained unclaimed by a hostile contract. But your Alpha—whoever he is—would remain a separate entity under the standard military system. He’d have no immunity from the draft. Bond or no bond.”

The words strike Tony’s heart like a physical blow. He stares at the floor, knuckles going white where they grip the edge of a dingy metal shelf. “So… there’s nothing we can do?”

Erskine’s voice softens. “Nothing within the SSR’s scope. Not without drawing the exact kind of scrutiny we’ve fought to avoid. If I tried to keep an unknown Alpha off the front lines, the War Department would demand to know why. And unless you wish to reveal his name, or the nature of your arrangement, it would unravel everything.”

Tony forces down a wave of nausea.

It’s all so fucking unfair.

They’ve manipulated half a dozen obscure laws to free him from Tiberius’s claws, but they can’t—or won’t—save Bucky from the same war they’re all trying to end.

He inhales sharply, voice tight. “So that’s it.”

Erskine’s gaze flicks over Tony’s tense posture. “I wish I had better news, Tony,” he says sincerely. “But your Alpha is not part of this project. The SSR has no reason—or authority—to interfere with his deployment, short of enlisting him into our ranks. Which, from the sound of it, would be precisely the opposite of what you want.”

Tony huffs a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Fuck. Definitely not that.”

For a long moment, neither speaks. Tony’s throat bobs as he swallows, mind churning.

He’s going to go… he’ll be drafted, shipped overseas to God knows where…

Erskine clears his throat, softening his tone further. “There’s something else you should consider. If you and this Alpha were to… consummate a bond before he ships out, I’m afraid that would compound your difficulties, not lessen them.”

Tony frowns, looking up in confusion. “Compound how? I mean, Tiberius would be locked out, right? That’s… good?”

A shadow crosses Erskine’s face, something grave. “Yes, Stone could never claim you then. Legally or biologically. But, Tony, once you truly bond—once the physical and chemical link is established—your system will respond quite drastically if your Alpha is absent for long periods. Especially if he’s stationed overseas, with no prospect of returning during your heats.”

Tony opens his mouth, but no words come out.

At the Institute, he had heard whisperings of plenty of previous female classmates forced to endure separation from their Alphas who had been sent off to war, but they had specialized suppressants, courtesy of the government’s interest in preserving a stable breeding population.

Tony knows from gossip and rumor that female Omegas might still struggle, but the meds help dull the cycle, stave off the worst.

Except… those don’t exist for him.

Erskine seems to read his thoughts on his face. “Male Omegas,” he says gently, “are an unfortunately small demographic. The government invests in female suppressants for the sake of fertility control, but they’ve never bothered to develop a counterpart for your physiology in any widespread capacity. I’ve heard rumors of experimental formulas, but nothing… safe or accessible. And certainly not in time for your next heat.”

A hollow dread creeps into Tony’s chest, mixing with old shame. “So what… I just suffer every heat without him? And hope it doesn’t wreck me?”

Erskine meets Tony’s gaze, compassion etched into the lines of his face. “Bonded separation is far harsher on the body than an unbonded heat, especially if it’s your first bond. The withdrawal symptoms can be quite severe if your Alpha can’t return to you or send some measure of relief. I’ve seen it—” He cuts himself off, brow furrowing as though recalling something painful. Then he finishes softly, “It can be dangerous.”

Tony’s throat tightens. He thinks of the nights he’s already spent trembling and feverish, alone in a dorm room or holed up in his childhood bedroom, riding out a miserable heat with no biological alleviation.

The idea that a bonded separation could be worse…

Tony has to laugh, though it comes out more like a strangled sob. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “So, let me get this straight—I spend days here clawing my way out of being forcibly bonded to some sadistic bastard, just for you to tell me that if I do bond—willingly, in theory—it might actually, what. Kill me?”

Erskine doesn’t smile, doesn’t so much as flinch at Tony’s forced levity. “Tony,” he says, voice low and gentle, “I know this isn’t the answer you want to hear. And I am… deeply sorry. But if your Alpha is being deployed, I just urge you to consider the ramifications.” He pauses, watching Tony closely. “If your attachment is strong now, it will be tenfold once the bond is complete. And without him present to support you through your cycles, it will not simply be painful—it will be debilitating. Potentially even—”

“Dangerous,” Tony finishes flatly, not looking at him. “Yeah, yeah, I caught that part.” His fingers tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles aching from the strain.

The air between them is heavy, thick with the weight of all the unchangeable things. Tony presses his lips together, swallowing the rising sting in his throat.

This is what you fought for, some voice in his head mocks. You wanted to be free. You wanted independence.

But he doesn’t want it. Not indefinitely. Not like this. Not when it means standing by and watching Bucky—his Alpha—get shipped off to hell without so much as a tether to pull him home.

Tony hesitates, mouth suddenly dry. It feels naive—and slightly grotesque—to even say it out loud, but the question’s been gnawing at him for weeks.

Since the godforsaken gala.

“If… if we bond anyway—not saying we will, by the way, this is purely theoretical—and, God forbid, he—” Tony’s voice cracks. “If h-he—dies in the war… would my mark… would it, you know, turn black? Rot?”

Erskine, for once, looks genuinely taken aback by one of Tony’s questions, as if the Omega finally managed to lob a genuine curveball in his direction. “Rot?” he echoes, confusion etched across his usually calm features. “Tony, why would you think—?”

Tony presses his lips together, heart pounding. “Look. I— I’m not exactly well-read on, you know, Alpha biology. Or… or any bond mechanics. I went to a shitty boarding school that force-fed us sterilized propaganda. Lots of questionable textbooks. But I’ve—the Alpha my dad tried bonding me to, Tiberius Stone; he has a wrist bite, and… it’s black. Twisted. Like it’s rotted away.” He drags a shaky breath. “I always assumed it was because he… his first mate died. I mean, that’s what everyone says. There are… rumors. That he, y’know. Killed her. Severed their bond, left it to rot. But then—” He forces himself to hold Erskine’s gaze. “They also say, theoretically, that death doesn’t fully sever a bond. Which is why second bonds for Alphas aren’t as strong.”

Which is why they usually save second Alpha bonds for infertile, second-class male Omegas.

As Tony speaks, Erskine’s expression twists—first with confusion, then dawning realization, before finally settling into something heavier, something wary and deeply apprehensive.

“Black scarring on an Alpha’s bond mark—indicates an intentional sever.” He sighs heavily, clearly troubled. “Tony, if your Alpha were to die in the line of duty, or from any cause not of his own choosing, your bond would… linger. It wouldn’t rot. The scar wouldn’t twist black. That sort of decay only occurs when a mate forcibly and willingly drives the bond to destruction—most often, by one partner ending their own life to break the tie.”

The words settle like lead in Tony’s gut. He can feel them sinking, twisting, pressing against something deep and fundamental inside him, something he’s not sure he has the stomach to face.

Because… oh.

Tiberius didn’t kill his first mate.

He drove her to kill herself.

Tony’s head swims.

Because he knows this, deep down—that severing a bond isn’t something you do. It isn’t a choice, some mistake, an unfortunate accident.

It’s never been some inconvenience a person can just opt out of when it no longer serves them.

It’s—

It’s unheard of.

It’s an abomination.

Even thinking about it feels like trespassing onto cursed ground, like uttering something so forbidden that the universe itself should recoil.

There’s a reason people don’t talk about it. A reason no one even wants to talk about it.

Because a bond is more than a contract, more than a name scrawled on some outdated marriage document. It’s biological. It’s written into the blood, carved into the marrow of a person’s being. To take a mate is to entwine two bodies, two minds, two entire selves so thoroughly that their scents change, their chemistry shifts, their very instincts rearrange themselves around each other.

It’s why bonded pairs don’t survive the loss of their mate.

Not really. Not truly.

The bond itself never fully disappears—it dwells, in fragments, until there is no mated partner left to sustain it.

Tony swallows hard, stomach twisting and coiling. He thinks of Tiberius, of the scar on his wrist—blackened, twisted, something unnatural in a world where everything about mating bonds is meant to be absolute. Permanent.

He had always figured Tiberius had killed her. It wasn’t exactly a leap in logic.

Because of course he had.

It wasn’t a question of if, really—just a matter of when and how.

Of whether it had been quick or if Tiberius had drawn it out just to watch her squirm. Whether it had been a moment of temper, or something calculated, something drawn up like a business plan, signed and sealed with all the precision of a man who had never once made a decision without thinking about how it would benefit him.

Tony had assumed it with the same certainty he assumed the sky was blue, that gravity pulled downward.

Of course Tiberius fucking Stone had killed his first mate.

It hadn’t even mattered to Tony, really—not in the way it probably should have. Not in the way a normal, stable, grounded person would have reacted to that knowledge.

Because the second he had met Tiberius, the second he had looked into those cold, calculating eyes, Tony had known. He had recognized the kind of man he was dealing with.

But this—this is something else.

Because it means she chose it.

It means she had to wake up every day in that bond, trapped with a man like that, and realize—again and again and again—that there was only one way out.

This means she looked at death and saw something softer than the alternative.

The bile rises in Tony’s throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispers, throat tight, barely even aware that he’s said it out loud.

Erskine exhales, slow and measured. “It is a terrible thing, yes.”

Tony shakes his head, laughter bubbling up in his chest in a way that doesn’t feel remotely sane. “Shit,” he breathes again. “Oh, well, that’s fucking fantastic. Poetic, even,” he says, voice scraping raw. “Good to know the universe has a built-in failsafe for getting rid of shitty Alphas.”

Erskine’s gaze remains steady. “It’s quite barbaric.”

Tony huffs out another breathless, half-mad chuckle, rubbing a hand over his face. “I mean, silver lining with voiding this contract, I guess—at least I don’t have to send him an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ letter.” He drops his hand, mouth quirking in something that barely resembles a smile. “Talk about dodging a bullet. Though, gotta say—kinda makes me wonder how he planned to get me there.”

Erskine’s brow furrows. “Pardon?”

Tony gestures vaguely, his fingers twitching with restless energy. “You know. To that point. The point where checking out starts to seem like the only viable option.” His voice is distant, detached, like he’s discussing someone else’s tragic fate instead of narrowly avoiding it himself. “I mean, let’s be real—our grand romance was dead on arrival. So what d’you figure his approach would’ve been? Slow suffocation? Mind games? Isolation?” He tilts his head, expression going thoughtful. “Ooh—maybe just sheer, unrelenting boredom. The man loves the sound of his own voice—could’ve droned me straight into an early grave. Probably figured I’d off myself just to escape another monologue.”

Erskine doesn’t react, but something in his expression tightens.

Tony shrugs, a careless thing, like his insides aren’t crawling with something thick and ugly. “Real shame, huh? Guess we’ll never know.”

For a long moment, there’s silence. Then Erskine sighs, long and weary. “Tony.”

That’s it. Just his name.

Because Tony won’t let himself think about what it means—what it really, truly means—that his father had every intention of handing him over to a man who had done this before.

That Howard had known, or at the very least, hadn’t cared. That this was very close to being his future.

Because if he does think about it too hard, if he lets himself actually sit with the horror of it—

Well.

He might not stop screaming.

Erskine exhales, watching him for a moment longer before leaning back slightly. “Come,” he says gently, standing from his chair. “We should return to the lab.”

Tony nods again, but he doesn’t move right away. He takes one more deep breath, pressing a hand over the spot where his own mating gland lies, untouched, unmarked.

Because despite everything Erskine has just laid out—despite the horrors that hover like a miasma around Tiberius Stone—Tony’s fingers linger over the side of his neck. At the base of his throat, where his mating gland rests, still unbitten.

It’s warm. Throbbing.

He can practically feel the rush of his pulse under his skin, like a low-level fever he can’t shake. He doesn’t need Erskine to tell him what it means. He knows this ache, the restless burn that’s been gnawing at him for days, ever since Bucky had kissed him goodnight against the frame of his dorm room door—casual, fleeting, the kind of kiss exchanged a hundred times before without ceremony, without second thought.

Ever since Bucky’s hand had curled at the nape of Tony’s neck, warm and steady, a gentle press of his thumb against the edge of his jaw like he always did, like it was instinct. Ever since Bucky had murmured something soft—sleep tight, sweetheart—before pulling away, the ghost of his breath still warm against Tony’s skin.

Ever since that moment—so unremarkable in its simplicity, so devastating in hindsight—before either of them realized that it wouldn’t just be a weekend apart. That it wouldn’t just be another weekend of separate schedules, of late-night phone calls and rescheduled plans.

Before they knew that it would be the last time.

Before everything fell apart.

And now Tony can feel the absence of that kiss like a missing limb. The restless twinge that’s been gnawing at him for days, ever since he woke up in the SSR with no contact, no scent, no anchor.

Bucky had called it bonding sickness, once. Back when they had first met and they were trying to put words to the physical connection that felt stronger than a name—it feels like a lifetime ago.

But Tony still feels it. The phantom ache that spreads whenever they have to spend a night apart.

Tony, missing an Alpha he can’t even touch, heat swirling under his skin as if he were in a heat cycle, but he isn’t.

He’s just… missing.

He presses his palm more firmly over the gland as though he can quell the steady pulse. It hurts, but in a dull, muffled sort of way—like an echo of a wound that hasn’t happened yet.

Tony forces a tight swallow. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about how Bucky’s the only reason he dared fight off Tiberius at all, the only reason he’s able to stay upright when every cell in his body screams for rest, for relief, for that smell of cedar and smoke and snowfall and warmth.

He exhales sharply and forces his feet to move, falling into step behind Erskine.

They walk in silence through the corridors, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the muted hum of the SSR complex pressing in from all sides.

And still, under it all, under the hum of machines and the distant murmur of voices—Tony feels the pull.

Like something tethered to him just out of reach.

Something calling him home.

A couple of days drift by after Tony’s tense conversation with Erskine, melting into a blur of lab work, restless nights, and silent meals under the hum of flickering lights. He’s lost count of how many times he’s run the meltdown calculations in his head, how many times he’s woken up from half-formed dreams about Tiberius and Bucky and unbreakable bonds.

He’s reviewing yet another coil alignment schematic—barely seeing the lines on the page—when a different stiff-backed guard appears in the lab doorway. “Mr. Stark,” the man says, tone clipped. “Colonel Phillips has requested your presence. Immediately.”

Tony’s pen stills over the blueprint. Finally.

He follows in silence, letting the guard lead him through the twisting corridors. Thirteen days he’s been trapped in this bunker, waiting for the War Department to hammer out the last details of his emancipation, waiting for someone—anyone—to grant him a sliver of normalcy.

The guard stops at a heavy steel door and raps twice. When it swings open, Tony steps inside, pulse skittering.

The room is cramped, no windows, the overhead light casting everything in a harsh, clinical glow. Colonel Phillips stands behind a metal desk, hands braced on either side of a thick stack of papers. Next to him, Senator Brandt waits with folded arms and an impatient line to his mouth. A handful of SSR brass linger at the edges: a couple of faceless staffers, an officer whose name Tony perpetually forgets, and, off to the side, Dr. Erskine—looking tired but faintly relieved.

Tony’s gaze flickers around, half expecting Howard to be there too, lurking with that quiet, coiled anger. But his father is conspicuously absent.

“Stark,” Phillips growls, beckoning Tony forward. “Sit.” He points to a metal chair across from the desk, next to a mountainous stack of documents that look so classified, they might combust at any second.

Tony swallows, nerves twisting.“You know, Colonel, you really have a way of making a guy feel welcome. Ever thought about a career in hospitality?”

Senator Brandt lifts an officious brow. “Stark, we’ve expended a great deal of effort ensuring your… unique circumstances were properly addressed. This—” He gestures at the formidable stack of papers. “—is the outcome.”

Tony eyes the mass of documents. “You’d think you’d at least supply a decent fountain pen,” he mutters. “Or a lawyer.”

Phillips’s mouth tightens. “Just sign, Stark.”

Tony huffs, settling onto the chair. Fine. He flicks open the first sheaf of papers, skimming the headings: Strategic Scientific Reserve—Project Rebirth—Confidential Terms and Nondisclosure. Next: Omega Emancipation Contract—Anthony Edward Stark. Another: Bond Nullification Agreement—Stark / Stone.

It’s all so formal, so heavily notated with legal jargon, cross-references, stamps, and disclaimers. He feels like he’s reading a small country’s constitution.

He glances up, about to crack another wise remark, but stops short at Phillips’s stern glare. “Shut up and sign, Stark,” the Colonel repeats, more slowly. “We don’t have all day.”

Tony bites back a retort—no sense picking a fight now—and flips through the pages. The first sections revolve around the standard hush-hush clauses: how he can’t breathe a word about Project Rebirth to anyone outside SSR approval, what he’s responsible for if there’s a security leak, the standard threats about espionage charges that would land him in federal prison for life.

Joy.

He scribbles his signature (still shaky from exhaustion) where indicated, ignoring Brandt’s impatient tapping. Next come the official forms that sever Howard’s guardianship: disclaimers referencing obscure wartime statutes, half a dozen references to Tony’s “unique strategic importance.”

Tony’s chest tightens with something akin to satisfaction as he scrawls his name across the lines that declare I am no longer property of Howard Stark. The SSR official on the side steps in to notarize each signature with brisk efficiency.

And then Tony turns the page and sees Contract for Nullification of Omega Bond, Tiberius Stone / Anthony Stark.

He stills, pulse picking up. The words blur for a second: Void ab initio… invalidated under special circumstances… rendered non-binding.

There’s a signature line for Tony Stark, a signature line for Tiberius Stone, and another for Howard Stark.

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. “Uh, is this gonna be an issue?” He taps the names with his pen, glancing around. “I assume Stone’s exactly doing handsprings over our breakup.”

Senator Brandt clears his throat. “We, ah, reached out to Mr. Stone through official channels—without divulging anything sensitive about your position here, of course. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve become indispensable to the war effort, and thus, your contract with him has been deemed a liability.”

Phillips grunts in confirmation. “We might’ve implied you’re under indefinite protective custody. He can’t forcibly claim you if the War Department itself says you’re not available.” The Colonel’s lip curls in something like disdain. “I doubt he’s pleased, but he’s not stupid. He doesn’t want to cross the U.S. Army.”

Tony snorts softly. He can imagine Tiberius’s reaction—rage tempered only by self-preservation. “I take it he didn’t take the news well.”

Brandt’s mouth twists. “If the vitriolic telegram he sent is any indication, no. He did not.”

A hollow satisfaction blooms in Tony’s chest. Good. The bastard deserves to choke on every ounce of frustration.

Still, the lines requiring Tiberius’s signature stand out like black stains on the page. Tony wonders if Tiberius will sign them voluntarily, or if he’ll stall. But from the look on Phillips’s face, the War Department has ways of making him cooperate—likely involving threats of espionage or sabotage charges.

“Right,” Tony mutters, leaning forward to scrawl his signature in the designated spot. His breath catches as the pen scratches across paper, effectively severing the final tie that bound him to Tiberius Stone.

He sets the pen down, half-expecting something—a rush of triumph, a wave of relief.

But mostly, he just feels tired.

Brandt snatches the pages back, scanning them with a pinched expression. Another official (some SSR adjutant, presumably) steps up to notarize, stamping each page with a metallic seal.

“Congratulations,” Brandt says drily, handing the documents to the adjutant for safekeeping. “You are no longer under Mr. Stone’s contract, nor under your father’s guardianship. As of this moment, the War Department recognizes you as an emancipated Omega.”

Tony exhales, shoulders sagging. Finally.

“There’s more,” Phillips grumbles, picking up another stack from the desk. “Nondisclosure agreements, property disclaimers, details of your continued obligations to Project Rebirth, including any future meltdown fixes. You’ll remain on file as a civilian consultant, subject to recall if we have further questions. Sign here, and here, and—”

Tony nods absently, flipping through the pages. It’s all boilerplate: hush-hush about everything, SSR retains the right to rope him back in if meltdown issues resurface, etc., etc. He snatches the pen again, scrawling his signature at the bottom of each form.

His hand aches by the time he finishes. He sets the pen down with a click, rolling the tension from his neck, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on him. Erskine’s included.

Brandt leans in, swiftly checking each signature. Satisfied, he tucks them away into a thick dossier. “That should do it.”

Phillips nods once, curt. “Welcome to the rest of your life, Stark. Don’t screw it up.”

Tony huffs a tired laugh. “I’ll do my best, Colonel.”

He glances at Erskine, who offers him a subtle, approving nod. The other SSR staffers look relieved—one or two might actually be happy for him, though Tony’s not sure. The rest probably just want their meltdown expert to be done with personal drama so he can finalize the Rebirth Chamber.

The door creaks open, admitting a uniformed aide who steps in to retrieve the stack of completed forms from Brandt. Tony tries to ignore the wave of vulnerability that hits him as he watches them vanish from sight—all that paperwork, the keys to my future, in someone else’s hands.

But it’s done, or close enough.

No more Tiberius Stone. No more forced contract. No more guardianship from Howard.

Tony is… free.

Phillips exhales, flipping through the last of the pages with a grunt of finality. “That’s it, Stark,” he mutters. “We’ll arrange a car to send you back to Manhattan.”

Tony leans back in his chair, pressing his fingertips to his temples like he’s staving off the world’s worst headache. “Oh, no. No, no, absolutely not.” He waves a dismissive hand in the air. “With all due respect, Colonel—and I mean this with every ounce of sincerity in my body—the last time your men ‘transported’ me anywhere, I was abducted, blindfolded, and thrown into the back of a government utility vehicle with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. Just let me call my butler.”

Phillips looks unimpressed. “Stark—”

“No, no, I insist,” Tony says, standing up and stretching his aching limbs. “I’ll spare your boys the hassle. Trust me, they’ve done enough damage to my trust issues—and my kidneys—for one lifetime.”

Phillips glares at him but doesn’t argue. It’s clear he doesn’t give a damn how Tony gets out of the bunker—only that he does.

They’re on the same page there, at least.

Tony, for his part, has no intention of going back to Manhattan. Maybe ever again, if he can fucking help it.

Not like Howard’s going to let him set foot on the property anyway.

No, he’s not going to Manhattan.

He’s going to Brooklyn.

He’s going home.

#winteriron #bucky barnes #tony stark #wip #ao3 #steve rogers #alpha/beta/omega au #captain america #tony stark x bucky barnes #ao3fic

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missbuckyhellfire · 2 days ago

Text

Cat And Mouse : Emperor Geta (3/?)

Previous Part

Plot:

The Twin emperors have a problem : A little thief who steals form the rich and gives to the poor. The rich despise them yet the people of Rome love them. However, the thief's little game can only go on for so long before the elder twin catches them and discovers their identity: Sabina, daughter of Marcus Acacius. Rather than executing her, he decides to marry her as a way to gain the Roman peoples approval. To Sabina, it is another way to get closer to the large stashes of gold in their keep. The two see this as a opportunity to gain power , but what else will they gain along the way?

Warnings: MANIPULATION EVERYWHERE! CHEATING! NSFW content,Language, The Emperors being themselves, Flirting, Concubines, Bullying, Fluff

Terms to know:

Dulcissima: Sweetest

Mel: Honey

************************************************************************

In Macrinus chambers, Sabina didn’t focus on any of the lush, lovely couches that laid before her, or the flowers freshly picked in the most elegant vase she ever saw. No, her dark eyes stared into oblivion, thinking about what had happened moments before.

To her, she felt like she witnessed something that clearly raised her position to him. Even after the night that the two had, she thought she was something special to him.

Obviously not.

Macrinus had noticed her lack of emotion and pulled her in for a hug. She paused for a moment then wrapped her arms around him. She took in his strong scent of oils around his body, but it was far too strong for her, and she turned her nose away.

“Even the highest of honors, the Empress does not deserve to see the cruelest acts of adultery.” He muttered in her ear. “ I thought Geta would have stopped his sexual escapades as soon as he wed you. “

“Clearly he hasn’t “

Macrinus had took a step back and gestured for the two of them to sit down on the couch. Sabina hesitated and let out a soft whimper from the previous nights events after joining Macrinus. On the couch. “Have you and Geta consummated?”

Sabina cocked a brow, thinking back to what they did the pervious night. She shook her head, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “Sure we explore each other, but we never took that step. He wants to wait until I feel ready.”

“Which is why he is playing with that concubine, what is preventing you from submitting?” Macrinus chuckled to himself.

“I don’t just submit to anyone Macrinus, you know that” Sabina smiled and shook her head. Macrinus thought for a moment then laughed and clapped his hands together.

“Then why don’t you get yourself a concubine?”

“Empresses don’t have those. We only have our husband’s and that’s it.” Sabina thought he was losing his mind. “Your insane Macrinus.”

“Maybe but that’s how I got here. “ He looked at all of the luxurious things around him. “You need to make him beg for you but putting your attention elsewhere. Another man perhaps or woman, just someone who you think will get on Geta’s nerves and make them a concubine of yours. Then watch him want your devotion. If there’s anything, I know for a fact that Geta does not like sharing.”

“Then lets make him jealous.”

“Yes, no Emperess, especially one as fair and a spokesperson for justice as you should put up with that bullshit from their husband, is he blind?”

“Or perhaps afraid knowing what may happen if he hurts me.” Sabina stated. “The people of Rome would revolt, you remember what happened when Geta locked me up.”

Macrinus nodded. “The romans don’t want their Emperess harmed, whose to say, you could take over you know.”

“Why would I? I can’t take over Rome. The people wouldn’t take me, especially as a woman.” Sabina looked down. Being in charge with Geta and Carcalla to the sidelines would indeed be easier for everyone on many levels, with money being the top one. But would she really want all of the responsibilities.

“Why not, it wont be a invasion, just make him submit to you completely and essentially Rome will be all yours.” Macrinus shrugged.

“What you suggest is treason.” Sabina stared into his eyes. “And even you telling me this…..”

“You wont tell anyone, besides I know that you want what’s best for the people, and overthrowing them may be an option.” He said in a lower tone. “Think about it, but for now, lets have some wine.”

************************************************************************

Geta watched Sabina storm out of the room as the concubine began to rub his shoulders. He didn’t understand why she was angry with him, they did have a good time. But he had other needs that needed to be met. Geta didn’t even notice that his concubine, Rosa moving her hands lower on his body much like she did before they had their ventures with each other the previous night.

When Sabina fell asleep the previous night, Geta still had a strong urge in his body. He wanted to release his tension, his urges as well. He knew better than force his body on a Demi-goddess and the daughter of a beloved general of Rome. She was intoxicating to him though, the scents and the curves of her body, her overall beauty. But, he made a promise to wait until she was ready.

He slowly slipped away, and put on his robe. He took one last look at his beautiful wife before he walked out of the room and closed the door behind himself. The emperor made a right and made his way to the Concubines chambers. He only wanted something quick to get the edge off and he planned to run back to the room by daylight.

The emperor was greeted by a swarm of concubines and his brother being surrounded by his “favorites” on the bed by the window that oversaw Rome. There were a range of concubines before him, thin, curvy, light haired, dark haired various eye colors and more. He scanned through them all and found one. She was considered as his concubine as they spent nights together before. Yet she looked the most like his beautiful wife, with dark hair and dark eyes not as lovely but close enough.

Rosa looked at him and waited for affirmation and took his hand to the other bed on the opposite side of the room, and pulled the canopy around them so they could have privacy and be enveloped into the darkness. Geta always preferred to have his intimacy in private. She watched as he took off his robes then commanded him to get on his back so they can begin. Usually it would begin with a back massage, then she would get a bit lower and start kissing his body. At some point, Geta would have enough of the teasing then he would flip himself over to face her and would command her to ride him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Geta lost track of time and was still in bed cuddling with Rosa when sun broke and his wife was a distant thought in his head.

After a while, Caracalla noticed his brother’s state and took a sip of wine while turning back to the dancer.

“She will get over it,” Caracalla muttered. “It’s part of being an Empress, you remember how many father had? Each day he had a new one running out of his room.”

“But Sabina is different brother.”

“Clearly, she is.” Caracalla stated. “Tell me brother what made you interested in her after locking her up for what ever crime you won’t share with me.”

Geta looked down and played with the rings on his hand, “She is just something special in my heart, I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Fucking her won’t hurt her brother. It’s her job now.”

“Yes, I just don’t want Rome to go up in flames if I took her flower’s petals too soon.” Geta cleared his throat. “I’ll take it when she asks for it.”

“Asks for it, brother we are emperors everything we see is ours. Including your wife.” Carcalla chuckled. “I would have just taken it on our wedding night if she liked it or not,”

“I know you would have but I am not you.” Geta couldn’t take it anymore, so he stood up and excused himself from his swarm of concubines and the dancer to think.

“I can’t do anything right now, why can’t I have a good time while having my wife? Yet, pissing off the gods as I am doing now is quite possibly the worst thing to do.” Geta thought to himself as he stormed through the halls. “ I haven’t even fucked her yet”

SMASH.

Geta blinked twice at the shattered pot once on the pillar. It was a bright pink one with lovely gold , silver accents with pearls. It was their mother’s favorite vase that was gifted to them by the general of the time. There was no sign of any force pushing it over so he could only see it as a sign of the gods rage towards him.

He looked down to see the painting of Venus’s face on one of the larger pieces that smashed to the ground.

Fuck, he knew he had to apologise, even if he didn’t mean it.

There was a rush of servants that began to sweep up the vase as he kept on walking down the hallway. He went on his way to his chambers but started halfway when he heard chuckling from one of the rooms.

That familiar high pitch of his wife.

It took a few moments for him to recognize it as his advisor’s room but he couldn’t help himself, he had to lean against the door. Obviously, there was something going on that peaked his wife’s attention.

At first he just heard wine being poured and the clinking of glasses, but then he began to hear more of their conversation. By the tone of their voices, they already had a few glasses.

“When you say, explored each other do you mean like ….” Macrinus began

“With our tongues and lips, yes, but I am not ready for making love with him. I just feel like we need to form some sort of bond first. Sure, we are married and everything, but he hardly knows me more than the thief of Rome, and pressured with his duties to impress the people.”

Geta understood that. They didn’t know each other, they hardly were able to spend time with one another without the pressures of the city and the gods. Yet, where was he to start, he was always given things, how was he to earn this?

“How would he be able to get you to open up then?”

“Spend time with me even! Learn about my favorite things, my hobbies and interests, there is more to me than just being a thief who is also his wife.”

“That I know,” He heard Macrinus chuckle. “Does he know of your writing or poetry? People would talk of the general’s daughter’s writing pieces.”

“I usually base my pieces on Virgil, but I do like venturing on my own works as well. I doubt that he has heard of my pieces which is why he didn’t bring it up.”

Geta honestly had no idea that she wrote creative pieces. He hasn’t even heard about it, now he grew curious about it. That’s a place to start at least to get her attention. But he also needed to learn more about her as well. He took a step back from the door and kept walking, deciding to take a stop in the library in hopes of finding something written by his wife.

************************************************************************

After the glasses of wine, Sabina decided to take a walk in the gardens. She had yet to visit them, but she figured it would be a good way to take a breather and take in what Macrinus advised her to do.

Getting a concubine? Who would want to do that?

Sabina knew she was attractive to many, her husband and oddly her brother in law included. But, who would want to live in that lifestyle? Only being treated like a toy to the Emperor or Emperess on the whim they wish it. She wanted to make Geta jealous though, but to treat someone like that…

She couldn’t do it, she may have to explain everything to the future concubine she picks. They may also appreciate the arrangement more if she treated them with dignity. Even pay them if it is a way to ensure their secret would be kept or whatnot.

Her disturbing thoughts stopped when she seen a large patch of red roses, fully bloomed and opened up to her. She admired how thick the stems were and couldn’t help herself but pick one out for her to take with her. A knife was by the pot so she used it to pick the one that attracted her the most.

She had the rose in her hand and put it against her nose to take in the scent. There was a range of different scents around her, but she only focused on this one. She closed her eyes for a moment to take in the scent.

However her dark eyes opened when she had felt lingering eyes watching her. She scanned around the area, only to find Geta’s dark eyes watching her. The rose bush was in front of the library entrance, and of course, the windows were there. She scanned him for a moment as she noticed some books were in his hand.

Didn’t know he wanted to read.

His eyes didn’t leave her as he noticed the red rose in her hand, freshly picked by her. He should have known she was an admirer of red roses. He hoped she would see his books in hand as perhaps it would be a sign that he is at least trying.

Sabina couldn’t care less though, and she kept walking through the gardens. To her, she just learned that he enjoyed reading.

However, Geta had talked to the librarian and couldn’t find any copies of her writing anywhere in the palace. He had requested that the librarian find some of her written works and bring them to the chambers immediately. The books in his hands were some of Virgil’s works and introductions to writing creatively. It was an attempt to build a stronger relationship between them.

************************************************************************

That evening, the Emperors decided to have a party at the palace since they felt the gods blessed it upon them to have one.

Caracalla wanted to get drunk with people and Geta wanted to find out more about Sabina through the mouth of the people. They knew her more than he did so he thought it would be a good chance to find more about her while he awaited for her creative writing.

Sabina knew what she wanted to do this evening. She wanted to shock, seduce and get under her husband’s skin. She knew that she would have to dress slightly more risky than normal to do this and get a “concubine”.

Her low cut stola was a very faint sheer pink that hardly hid her daisy covered nipples. She picked them from the garden and thought they would be a unique twist to nipple coverings. She let her dark wavy hair down but used a shell clip gifted to her by her father to remove the strands of her face to reveal the pearl earrings and necklace. Her eyes were painted with silver metallics that made her brown eyes stick out. Her cheeks were graciously blushed with shades of pink and her lips were colored with a dark deep pink. She made sure that her husband didn’t see her until the party. She knew he would likely tell her to get changed, her father would have.

She waited for a few minutes after the party started to make her entrance. Her husband and brother-in-law were already greeting the guests entering as their paid entertainment began to sing for the guests.

That was when she casually walked inside the event. Sabina knew she was going to have heads turn to her, but that was the point. She wanted to find the perfect person to make a “concubine” and get her husband jealous.

Sabina was right, everyone was essentially staring at her. She however, focused on walking over to her husband and her brother in law with their concubines together. As she got closer, she could see his cheeks turning pink.

“Husband,” She bowed at him and the entire room was silent.

“Wife, what are you wearing?” Geta stared at the entire outfit, perhaps staring at the nipple daisies a few seconds too long.

“Do you like it ? To honor my mother.” Sabina said boldly in which there were whispers amongst the crowd.

“Can we see the ring your husband given you?” Rosa asked. She was next to Geta with her hand on his lap. “I am sure it is lovely.”

Sabina and Geta looked at each other for a moment. He never did give her a ring for engagement or their wedding. Sabina hid her hand behind her body as she looked down.

“No ring! I would have thought you would have been given the loveliest one of Rome. Guess the rumors are true, this whole thing was arranged last minute. I suppose that’s why your husband is still swarmed by concubines.” Rosa smirked at Sabina. Having no worth to speak to her husband’s whore, she turned away and walked off.

“That was cruel Rosa.” Geta finally said to her. His hand pushed hers off his leg. She shook her head.

“Then why doesn’t she have a ring, without it she is like a concubine.” Rosa snickered with his brother joining in.

“Yea, she is a virgin concubine.” Caracalla raised his voice a bit louder, just enough for Sabina to hear them on the other side of the room.

************************************************************************

Sabina didn’t need any of that. It was Geta’s doing that he didn’t get her a ring at the very least. Forced marriage or not, a ring would have been nice to at least make it official. She had lots of rings, but having a ring as a promise of protection and love meant something to her.

Not like this entire situation was full of love anyways.

But it still would have saved the embarrassment that even the Gods could have seen.

She stood in the corner with a glass of wine in hand and sweet treats in the other. She scanned the room to see if there was anyone worthy of taking in as a “concubine”. Or at the very least, someone who would get the attention of the emperor.

Her eyes met with someone who came in with the Advisor. A younger man, with piercing blue eyes and short darker hair. His face was affirmed and straight ahead as Macrinus talked to him all he did was nod and mutter a couple additional comments. He was a handsome man, who worn extravagant clothing.

He gotten her attention. She felt like a magnet to him, not by attraction but by curiosity. He looked exquisite and she wondered if the advisor brought him intentionally or if this was just a coincidence. Something told her it was the former. She didn’t hesitate to walk over to talk to him.

Geta didn’t let his eyes off his wife since the incident. He didn’t want anyone touching her in the wrong way after the way Rosa talked to her. The concubine kept trying to place her hand on his knee, but he kept slapping it away. His brows began to lower as Sabina walked to the advisor and uninvited guest. He knew that Macrinus and Sabina were getting accustomed to each other, but he wasn’t too sure about the guest.

Sabina smiled at Macrinus as he clapped his hands together. “Ah the jewel of Rome, I would like you to meet someone.” The stranger’s eyes had brightened up to her, in pure interest. He took her hand and admired her face for a moment before he kissed her knuckles.

“I am Felix Remus Julius, second son of a nobleman of Rome, speaker of 4 languages, poet, and in the presence of the loveliest woman I met.” He kissed he hand again. “I am in the highest of honors to be in the presence of the Emperess, the hero of Rome” He bowed lowly to her.

“I am honored to be in your presence. My father spoke highly of you, even considered…” Sabina paused at her thought, remembering where she is. Speaking of possible marriage arrangements of the past were not wise in the presence of two power hungry emperors.

“I do recall, perhaps in another path if you weren’t caught.” He winked at her.

“Perhaps.”

“I brought a gift to honor the Empress.” He stated as Macrinus had smiled at Sabina then glanced at Geta who was cocking his head trying to see what kind of gift the man was gifting her. In Felix’s pocket was a pretty closed seashell, It was white and polished. Sabina would have been happy to just take the shell, but he opened it to reveal a gorgeous ring before her. A golden ring with a ruby in the center.

“This is too much Felix” Sabina commented as he placed the ring on her right hand’s ring finger.

“Nonsense, soon enough your going to have so many jewels on your fingers from your supporters.” There was a silence in his voice, noticing no ring on Sabina’s left hand.”It will be the first of many.”

“Regardless, I am sure that none of the jewels will be as lovely as the one you gave me.”

Geta eyed the jewel on his wife’s finger. She had her cheeks flush slightly red at the sight of this noble. Caracalla noticed the change of his brother as Geta had clawed his hand into the sofa.

“Better watch that one brother, your wife may have another lover soon enough.”

With a couple more chuckles, Sabina ushered Felix to join her in the gardens. As the two left, Macrinus went to the younger brother to discuss something. Geta stood up, leaving his concubines alone as he kept his distance behind them.

************************************************************************

Felix and Sabina snuck away quickly. The two-holding hand in hand, giving soft chuckles to one another. They rushed to the gardens quickly and quietly in hopes that no one will find them there while they talked in private.

Geta on the other hand was quick and sly. He wanted to be close but keep his distance. He was furious on how quick the physical contact was happening while he had to work so hard to get what he got, and he still didn’t consummate the relationship! Regardless, he is learning more about his bride that she is not speaking up about. He wanted to learn as much as possible before he tries to get closer to her. He can’t fuck up again.

Finally, Sabina and Felix stop by a rose bush under the moonlight. The light highlights their features and beauty which makes them both more alluring to the other. Geta noticed this in his hiding spot, a simple pillar. He should have planned this ahead of time as he had to be very selective with his movements.

“So why are we sitting by the dark blue roses? “Felix asked trying to scoot closer to her.

“They are my favorite, my second are red roses” Sabina answered. “My father used to bring a set back home from his ventures. They remind me of the stars, when the fresh rain leaves them as they twinkle.”

“You are a poet even when you don’t try dulcissima” Felix chuckles as he put his hand on her thigh. “ My father spoke of how skilled you are, how you fight for what you want and how beautiful you were.”

Geta felt the rage of heat in his cheeks, thinking of what things must be going on inside of Felix’s head. The way that he touched her was angering him, in more way than one. Geta had to steady his breaths, so he won’t get caught.

“That is kind, Felix but what is the real reason why you came here tonight. I am sure it wasn’t to impress an empress”

“I came to get to know you better, was curious if you would be interested in having a companion. Word goes around Rome fast and I heard that your husband isn’t treating you right as you should be treated.” He said moving his hand to her upper thigh. “Macrinus is a close ally of my family and when he told me of the crimes your enduring daily, I had to come to help you.”

“You don’t know me.” Sabina said.

“I want to take the time to.”

If he wasn’t hiding, Geta would have sliced the pretty boy’s head off. The emperor wasn’t the most pleasant at this moment and each second it was getting harder and hard to calm his nerves.

“I am flattered with that offer, I am looking for one too. I really need someone to talk to who I can trust.” Sabina bites her lip. “I need someone to be my friend, my family is miles away and I hardly have a place to keep to myself. I am not ready for anything sexual, but I am looking for companionship.”

“Don’t worry we can take it slow Emperess, “He muttered as he was getting rather close to Sabina.

Geta couldn’t believe what he is hearing. Was Sabina in the slow process of getting a concubine? His first one was in the same way, a friend then eventually much more. He was supposed to be enough for her, now she’s seeking guidance elsewhere.

“O..oh” Sabina said and then all Geta heard was the sounds of two lips crash against one another.

He couldn’t hear anymore of it, so he slowly made his exit, finding no purpose to be sticking around while his wife is making out. Sure he did a lot worse the previous night, but still it made him sick to his stomach hearing it. He managed to leave without Sabina or Felix knowing.

The two kept their lips on eachother’s for a few more moments before they parted from each other. Blue eyes looking into brown eyes, both were full of uncertainty.

“Let’s take it slow.” Felix said.

“I don’t want the romance; I just want a companion.” Sabina stated. “I am flattered of the kiss though.”

“It is alright, we can be companions, just remember if you need anything I am here to aid you.”

Sabina smiles. “Great, you can come with me to the library and help me with my writing”

Felix nodded eagerly and follows her.

************************************************************************

Geta waited for Sabina to come back to their shared chambers after the party. He wasn’t going to say that he heard everything between her and Felix, but he knew it was going to be hard to hide what was going through his head.

How could she do this?

It also gave him the opportunity to hide the books of her written works from her before she came back. He didn’t want to read them in front of her, he intended to surprise her with some of her writing pieces and perhaps some of his own. He already had talked to the gardener to change the flowers into red and blue roses for her.

He has to find out more about her by spending time with his wife.

The emperor heard his wife’s laughter in the hallway with his voice. He muttered a couple curse words as he heard Felix say goodnight to her. She opened the door and Geta had tightened his housecoat.

“I missed you at the event wife, where did you run off to?” He asked instantly. He watched Sabina remove the hairclips and her dress. The dress that mentally drove him wild. Why did she decide to wear that? To bring Rome to their knees in the most unintimidating manner? He felt his inner needs grow when he watched her remove the daisies from her nipples. After a few moments of her being completely nude in front of him, she placed the robe on her body. He still stared, admiring the curves of her body.

“I went to the library with Felix, He is quite knowledgeable you know. “ She remarked.

“I see,” Geta was trying to bite back remarks. “So what’s the plan tomorrow for you?”

Sabina cocked a brow. “ Very curious of you of asking of my plans, I am going to the market to shop.”

“Is anyone going with you?” Geta wanted to make sure this was an opportunity.

“No, no one is going with me.”

“Great I will join you tomorrow, I need to grab a few things anyways.” Geta tuts walking to the bed. He wasn’t going to do anything until he gets to know her, its going to be a long process but he wanted to make sure that things will please the gods and her.

“Join me? You haven’t spent time with me yet.” Sabina slowly walked to the bed and laid down. “But this is a good place to start, be ready we will leave in the morning.”

“I am eager to, Sleep well mel” Geta said as he shut his eyes, thinking about the upcoming day and what it will have in store for them.

************************************************************************

Sabina and Geta got up early in the morning to prepare themselves for the day ahead of themselves. Both worn more modest, casual simple lavender purple embroidered stolas for their activities ahead, with minimal jewelry. Sabina wanted to enjoy the day without being dragged down by precious metals while Geta didn’t want to be robbed.

The couple did minimalist work on their faces, besides purple eyeliner swiped on their eyes, giving it a cat eye look. Their brown eyes popped with the purple color and it made them more intense and intimidating looking. Sabina decided to braid her hair back into a braid for the day, having a feeling she was going to need her hair up.

A quick breakfast was in order so they were given some cheeses, fruits and bread to start off their day. Servants kept filling up their plates with food and Sabina kept politely saying no thanks after the fourth serving. Geta let out a soft chuckle.

“They just want to make sure your well fed in case…”

“Of?”

“If your with child.”

“Oh well I am not and this food is getting a bit overbearing” Sabina looked at her rather large plate of her favorite things.

Geta cleared his throat “ LEAVE US!”

“Thank you for the food, but I think this is enough for now.” She cleared her throat , trying to clarify the negative remarks given to them by the emperor. They servants seemed to reciprocate the remarks given to them from her before they left,

Geta scanned her plate. Bryeria, lacterine and ricotta cheeses were on her plate, often spread with a piece of fresh bread. On the side there was apples, grapes, peaches slices with a few cherries. He made sure he mentally took note which foods she had on her plate. He watched her from across the table eating her food and enjoying the luxury food,

“Are you enjoying your food wife?”

“It is delicious, however…”

Geta almost stood up from the table about to send back in the servants to fetch something. But Sabina lowered her hand to reduce his excitement. “I am going to the market, I will buy the breakfast wine I enjoy. Perhaps you will enjoy it too, it reminds me of morning meals with my family.” Sabina was going to say something more but bit her lip.

“I can’t wait to try this wine “ Geta smiled at her. He watched her dark eyes look down at her plate and pick up a piece of lacterine cheese and place it in her mouth.

“Where are your concubines today?” His wife asked casually going for another bite of food. Guilt and panic flooded over him, wondering what brought up the question. Frankly, he didn’t care what they did, just as long as they were there when he needed them.

“Not sure, probably in the chambers reading or something.” Geta shrugged. Then he thought of the prick from the previous night, the noble that kissed her. Her new concubine, that she has yet to address to him. Geta has hardly met him, but he hates him. “You met that noble last night,”

“Yes Felix, a smart man of the mind. We spent last night in the library writing poetry.” Sabina looks down. It was what they did for part of the evening. The rest was just talking about the new arrangements, as she planned to introduce him to the court in the next party.

“You never said you wrote poetry.” Geta tried to pretend to be shocked, he has been trying to read each of the poems that she wrote to get an idea of her creativity, but with no avail. The emperor even got writer’s block when trying to write a small piece of written work for her.

“I did, it’s a habit I am trying to get back into.” Sabina said snacking on a slice of peaches.

“Why did you stop?” Geta tilted his head at her.” Writing is a gift”

“It is, I couldn’t write when I was happy. Been thinking about writing again as I can write when I am sad.”

That statement made Geta speechless.

************************************************************************

Sabina told Geta she wanted to go the market closer to her father’s home so she could welcome him back as soon as he returns. In addition to that, it had sold family comforts that she had growing up. She missed the simple things that she had, and wanted to bring them to her new home, for some type of comfort in a forced situation.

Even though Sabina wanted to have a private, relaxing day in Rome, her husband always had to make an entrance. He had to swing his cloak around for the public to see and he craved the attention that he got from commoners oogling his clothing.

However, he didn’t get as much attention as Sabina as a crowd of people rushed to her feet, some people even kissing her legs, singing praises to her. As soon as she stepped out of the carriage, she was treated like the goddess that she was. Red rose petals were placed around her feet as the they would mutter praises to her. Each step she took they created a pathway for her. Geta got tossed a couple of the red roses, but almost all eyes were on her.

Including Geta’s.

He wondered why there was no proposal planned in the first place. A beauty like her, he could have married her years ago. Things would have been different, perhaps she wouldn’t have went through her endeavours, stealing. Perhaps things would have changed for the better, there would be less war, less conflicts.

Sabina reached into her bag and grabbed some jewels that were at her disposal. It didn’t take much for everyone to notice the jewels in the palm of her hand. Her dark eyes went to a group of children who wore dirty toga’s and had dirt on their faces from playing around in their families garden.

She ushered them to come closer to her. Hesitant at first, they did, the eldest girl was the first one to come forward and gave a small smile.

“Emperess,” There was a pause then she looked up at Geta. “Emperor”.

“I bring gifts to you and your siblings.” Sabina said softly to them as she knelt down. “What are your names?”

Geta watched as Sabina took the time to talk to the children. He didn’t focus on the words that slipped out of her mouth, but rather watched her actions with the children. They came up to her, scared at first, but eventually they came close to her enough to reach for a hug. She wrapped her arms tightly around them with the largest grin across her face as she gave each of them a sizeable jewel to take home with them.

He began to wonder if he waited too long to bring her into his life. Rome was power hungry, and yet there are children wearing clothing like these children and less. Sure he craved power, he couldn’t deny it, but seeing people like this was concerning. With this, he began to understand what the purpose of her crimes.

She did it truly for the churches, the adults, the children.

He watched as she tossed the remaining jewels in the air. Her hand grabbed his and pulled him away before they were swarmed by the locals. She giggled to herself as she turned to her husband.

“Don’t you see how happy they are?” Sabina said in a joyful tone.”We should bring more to them.” She muttered but looked down when she remembered their arguments a few nights before.

Geta cleared his voice. “No I think we should as well. The people of Rome need to be watched over.”

“Really?” Sabina muttered looking up to him, she didn’t know what to believe anymore from his lips. Was this real? Was this a myth? Or was he only doing it to appease the gods?

“I am sure, I loved watching the joy it brought to you, the children and the others with your generosity.” Geta smiled at her, “I find your kindness attractive, I can’t wait to learn more about you.”

************************************************************************

Sabina and Geta walked around the markets keeping close to one another. Sabina’s hands were full of the spices and goods that reminded her of home. Her husband insisted he would let the cooks to prepare her the food while she just brushed it off.

“I like cooking my own food too actually And making my own sweets.” Sabina shrugged. “I learned how to cook, especially when my servants were away or completing other duties. Besides,I can say I am a pretty good cook” She smiled at herself as Geta noticed the bright sparkles in her dark eyes talking about an interest of hers.

“Your going to have to cook for me sometime.” Geta said to her. “I would love to taste my wife’s cooking.”

“You probably would find it minimal compared to the fine foods your servants make.” Sabina chuckled. “They are amazing cooks.” She didn’t want to disappoint him in her skills when he has servants with skills that pass hers.

“I would love to try it, Your cooking sounds enticing to me.” Geta leant over to her ear to whisper into it. “Besides, I can’t imagine you making anything sweeter than…” Before he could finish his statement, he noticed that there was a man in front of them with a bunch of jeweled rings. They were rubies, emeralds and sapphires on the marvelous silver and golden rings. Geta didn’t say a word, he only watched which ones his wife was eying. He did owe her a ring after all.

He watched her eyes go to the sapphire rings. There was one that sparkled like the evening stars on Palatine Hill. Around them were sapphires that were almost white that were banded together on a silver band. She smiled for a couple moments as her eyes were captivated by it before she muttered a “no thank you. “. She turned her head then made her way to an astrology tent.

Geta was confused by her movements and wanted to follow her, but not before whispering in the seller's ear to bring that ring to him with a range of sizes to Palatine Hill by the evening.

************************************************************************

Sabina admired the astrology charts provided to her from the seller as Geta stared at the maps before him. He never fully understood the concepts of stars, but he couldn’t say no to the bright smile across her face admiring the dots in the sky.

She spoke unfamiliar terms with the seller as her eyes began to sparkle like the stars themselves. Her eyes began to glow even brighter as she seen the map of the night that she was born. Geta admired the stars but took note on writing on the bottom of the scroll.

Veneralia Rital

From Geta’s knowledge, that was a few days away. With the empress’s name day arriving, he had to start planning for it as well. He had to plan games, a party and make sure her family arrives for the occasion. He did find it funny that her day of birth was aligned with her mother’s annual ritual.

He watched her bring coins, and then some to purchase the scroll, commenting how she was going to hang it somewhere in the palace. Both her and her husband were shocked to see Marcus Acacius right behind her.

“I shouldn’t let my daughter pay for this! This is a gift” He acclaims as he spins his daughter around and she hugs him quickly. However, the general’s eyes never left Geta.

“That is too kind father!” She muttered in their hug as Geta given him a soft nod.

“I was expecting to see you tomorrow.” Geta stated.

“I always come in a day early to see my wife and daughter” He said. “It was a wise guess to find my daughter here! Always looking up in the stars dreaming.” He looks down to Sabina and flashes a smile. “I sure hope that you are writing as well! You will see me tomorrow” The general passed a note to Sabina, which Geta didn’t fail to notice. He placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead then left the tent.

Geta wondered if Sabina’s father knew about something. Why would he say that in front of him? About her writing? Does he know she writes when she is sad? Of course he does! He raised her and allowed her to live with him until she was married. However, the worrying thoughts went away after noticing the bright grin across his wife’s face.

************************************************************************

After their long day, Geta and Sabina went back home. They were silent in the carriage ride home, but the Emperor couldn’t get his eyes off of her. He wondered if his father ever felt this way about his mother, even though Geta could recall all of the concubines and servants running out of his chambers only with bedsheets wrapped around them. This marriage between Sabina and him was not that much different, but he wanted to not be like his father. Even though last night was proven different. Macrinus was the one who suggested the Emperor to find a bed warmer so he could “practise” ways to please his wife. But the sadness in Sabina’s eyes had said a lot to him.

He didn’t want this, especially with her.

Once he spent the day with her. He watched and understood why the people of Rome loved her and admired her. He understood why Felix was so quick to become her concubine, though he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t sleep with him, but read books with him unless if she is truly lonely. If he was only being used as a friend, but then again he did kiss her. He did do the same to her, plus more so it was the least of his concerns. He hoped that he could have a chance to prove himself to her and perhaps it could just be the two of them.

An Emperor could only dream as there are temptations on every corner. The same goes for his wife beyond the sins of the flesh.

Sabina on the other hand had enjoyed the time outside of the palace and the time with her husband. She honestly had no choice but to have him tag along, but it was an opportunity to get him to know her better. She thought he did and hoped that he would join her in a few days time on her name day as she was returning to donate to the temple of Venus.

But she shan’t tell him yet as she thought it wouldn’t be something of interest to him. It was a blessing enough that Geta agreed to give more to the people.

She admired his dark brown eyes that reflected into the sunlight as he watched the views from outside the carriage. He tried to avoid eye contact, but he felt her eyes growing on him.

************************************************************************

Geta was in his chambers late at night, wondering where wife is was. First thought was Felix but he found him with Caracalla and his concubines reading poetry to them. Thought it was odd, but he figured it was fine which meant Sabina wasn’t sneaking around with others. She was alone in the palace somewhere he just needed to find somewhere his bride could be hiding. He checked the library but rather found Macrinus sitting at a table with the stack of scrolls that Geta asked for early in the day.

“Your wife is quite the poet, Roses that bloom in the saddest of times often grow the toughest thorns to fight.” He read out loud. His eyes never left the paper as he came closer. “A fighter for the people of Rome is a fighter for love”.

“I never heard any poetry from her, provides insight into her head.” Geta mused. “I asked for those books this morning, thank you for holding them for me.” He walked over to take them from him. That was when his eyes darted back to him.

“My pleasure, I wanted to read some more of them before you got your hands on them.” His advisor smiled. He gave him the collection of scrolls as his hands were overwhelmed by the scriptures.

“I noticed you took your wife out today to the city. I hope you had a good time”

“We did, I learned a lot about her. Glad we could spend time with each other.” He muttered as he seen the flash of dark hair in the gardens just outside of the library. This followed with a flash of silver.

His eyes fixated on her as he seen her swing a blade around and began to practice movements and attack methods. Around her were the dark blue roses that he asked for but the true beauty was the one with the blade. Macrinus noticed this and gestured the emperor to go to her. He didn’t need to be told twice, he dropped his scrolls and left the library to meet with her.

************************************************************************

Sabina was so focused on her blades movements that she didn’t realise that Geta was leaning against a pillar,arms crossed. He admired her form with the blade. Hours, days earlier he would have spat at her for using a weapon, and that it brings her back for her thievery roots. But now, he knows this is just how she is.

He admired her form, how the gods made her. How he ended up with her, even thought he knows it was fate still baffles him. He was an emperor, he could have anyone, anything but he has something much more precious.

Sabina.

Brown eyes meet with brown eyes. Before her mind for process who it was, her dark orbs turned to rage and pointed the blade angrily towards him. Showing a look of darkness and determination to execute anyone who stood in her path. Geta, shocked, put his arms up, surrendering quickly.

“Mel” Geta greeted. “I hope you don’t mind that I changed the garden” He glanced around to the fresh new blue roses that surrounded them. “Someone told me that you may have liked these the best.” He really hoped that she would drop the blade. After a few moments, her eyes softened and dropped the blade.

“I do thank you husband.” She muttered. “Roses are my favorite because….”

“Roses that bloom in the saddest of times often grow the toughest thorns to fight” Geta muttered, remembering the quote that Macrinus had read to him moments earlier. It suited the moment really but he needed to learn more about her poetry. It flowed off his tongue quite tell.

Sabina cocked a brow at him as she took a step closer, admiring the matching black robe that he worn. “Your familiar with my poetry, must have been hard for you to find it.”

“What do you mean?” Geta asked.

“I mean my father worked hard to make sure you wouldn’t find copies of it, thought you wouldn’t like my writing style.” She looked down. “The most beautiful of things often are hidden and secluded in the deepest of caves, and the few who find it are in pure bliss.”

Geta looked down. “ I found out regardless, but I was concerned where you were after our journey.”

“I was just here, admiring your gift to me. Thank you.” Her eyes were sparkling like the stars,

“It is my pleasure, it was a pleasure to spend the day with you to get to know you better” He took her hand and kissed it softly. Yet he didn’t let go of it though as he went on his knee and reached into his robes where he had the rings of various sizes. He wanted to make it right with her, and this would at least be a start. Sabina’s eyes stared at the ring in his hand and watched as he placed on her left hand’s ring finger. The ring was a perfect fit on the first try.

“For my dulcissima, the Emperess of Rome. A ring to claim you as ruler of Rome, and my wife.”

Her eyes looked at the sapphire, reminiscent of the stars in the sky. Her glance was so quick, but it warmed her heart knowing that Geta had planned to grab the ring himself to give to her. She smiled brightly as she admired the sparkles and glamor the ring given to her. She didn’t say anything to him, her dark eyes did all of the talking as he watched her. He stood up and before he could say anything to her, Sabina pushed her lips against his. She thought on how soft they were. She traced her blade down the side of his neck as he let out a soft whine in response. Yet, he wasn’t complaining, the slow movement did drive him closer to her.

“Do the blades excite you wife? Geta asked. Sabina put the blade down for a moment, embarrassed with the movements. “It is nothing to be embarrassed about, in fact I am willing to explore this further if you wish.”

Sabina felt that he over stepped and shook her head. “Not tonight, thank you for the gift husband, I would like to get to spend more time with you.”

“As do I” Geta tried to not sound disappointed, but he can wait for as long as it takes for her to bed her. He knew he had to learn more about her and her people before she can fully accept him.

Geta went to bed shortly after, falling asleep shortly after. He dreamt of Sabina with her blades against his neck as she slowly rides him. Sure this was a impossible dream now, but it may happen one way or another in the future. At one point, he woke up and noticed his brother staring at something in the middle of the night. Curious, Geta peeked out of the balcony to see Sabina still practicing. She, however was being watched by a cloak of three figures. However, when Geta blinked they were gone. His eyes went to his brother, who watched his wife hungrily. Geta will make it to his best interests that Sabina wont be touched by him.

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jumpingjoltiks · 1 day ago

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Um hiii!! Could I request an x reader for ingo and emmet (seperately) with a reader who is autistic but like. REALLY masks? Like a level of masking where the boys don't even know that they're autistic at first, and they're VERY different when they aren't out in public/don't feel the need to mask. I love ur writing btw >_<!!!

AAAA Thank you smmm! I’m so happy you’ve enjoyed my work! <3 <3 <3

I’ve already written a little bit about the twins being autistic already, so I’m happy to get to finally write some x reader stuff to go with it!

Biiiiig mood. I've spent most of my life masking, so I think a lot of this will probably come from my own experiences. I ended up making this a few different sections instead of just one, all coming out of different ideas I had. :)

The twins with someone who is also autistic, but masks heavily

Ingo Gets It. He understands the fear and the pressure to fit in. Emmet doesn’t, but he tries his best to respect your decision (though, secretly, he wishes you’d be more yourself. Both boys love when you’re being the most authentic version of you, but Emmet really wants to see it all the time).

Being actually comfortable around them takes a while (as it would with anyone) – its hard work to decondition yourself like that, to convince yourself you’re really, genuinely safe being yourself – but the twins’ (especially Emmet’s) refusal to mask is enormously helpful in this regard. Their unabashed devotion to being exactly who they are is inspiring.

Emmet devotedly listens to your infodumping, especially if it’s something he’s also interested in. Ingo is thrilled to find someone else who will listen to him too. Late in the evening, when Ingo is cooking and you’re all three in the kitchen together, you all talk like no one has ever looked at you strangely before – open and honest and genuinely excited just to share knowledge and enjoy this moment together.

There’s a certain amount of bluntness between you three, but none of you really mind. If hurtful words are ever said, you can be sure that they weren’t really meant to be cruel. You can always talk things out. Emmet, in particular, has trouble with his straightforward attitude, and sometimes says things that come out wrong – do you as well? He knows how hard it can be to find the right way to say things.

And if you don’t feel like spending time together right now, the twins understand that too. There have been plenty of days when one or the other will come home and lock themselves in their room for a while, just to cool down. If you should come home from your job or a grocery run and need some time, they’ll handle the rest.

Decompression

Would it surprise you to know that it’s Emmet who catches on first? There’s a good reason for that! He’s had a lifetime of keeping an eye on his brother, who also used to heavily mask.

Your own tells are different then Ingo’s, to be sure, but they’re there regardless.

After a tough day, you’re taking the subway home. He notices that your posture and gait are different & your expression is stiffer. You’re clinging to your sense of self-control.

He’s got things he needs to attend to, but you’re a dear friend… your wellbeing comes first, he decides. Emmet doesn’t hesitate to fall into step next to you as you traverse through the station.

“Good afternoon! Are you doing alright?”

You know he’s not one for small talk… so what is he doing? The flash of a puzzled look crosses your face before you smile up at him. It’s humiliating, but you can’t seem to summon up words right now. This will have to do.

Emmet knows smiles. Yours is tight and strained, not at all like your usual smile. And you haven’t answered. He doesn’t like this at all. All signs are pointing to a systems crash.

“Your engine is overheated. I can tell. Do you need a place to step aside for maintenance? My office isn’t far.”

You stare at him blankly, trying to parse exactly what kind of metaphor he’s making.

But you’re too overstimulated and tired to put too much thought into it. Eventually, you sigh and nod. He leads you through the crowd with swinging arms and legs, and people part before him.

The office is an open space that is fastidiously tidy. A sofa is tucked against one wall, opposite is a set of shelves with all kinds of books and files neatly arranged. A pair of matching desks are stationed toward the back of the room. You’ve never been in here, but somehow you instinctively know that this is a safe place for you.

“I have a mini fridge. You are welcome to any of the snacks and cold waters I have. There are also noise cancelling headphones if you want. I know that Gear Station can be verrrrry noisy when overstimulated.”

You think that’s the longest stretch of words you’ve ever heard Emmet say, and you can only stare up at him wordlessly in response. You didn’t realize he had you figured out. Shame threatens to creep in, but then he smiles as he holds out a bottle of ice water to you. He smiles like he knows. There isn’t a single trace of pity or belittlement in it, only understanding.

You take the bottle of water with a small, genuine smile of your own. It’s the first one you’ve had all day.

When you sit down on the couch, Emmet takes off his coat and places it over your shoulders. It’s pretty big on you… but it’s also really heavy. You hadn’t realized it was weighted this whole time. The pressure feels nice, and you bury yourself into it. Emmet seems pleased, like he knew this would happen.

“I am going to do some paperwork at my desk. Would you like the lights off?”

You nod wordlessly and he flicks the light switch off in response. The only light in the room is the warm glow of a desk lamp, focused down onto his work station and away from you. Even the faint hum of electricity that would usually come out of a lamp like that is silent, which is an enormous relief.

The only sound for the next hour is Emmet’s pen near silently sweeping across the pages of his work. You stay quiet and buried under his coat, eyes closed and dozing somewhere between sleeping and waking. You feel safe.

After what feels like an age, you shift from under the coat and re-emerge, feeling much better. Emmet’s eyes flick up to you.

“Do you feel any better?” he asks. His voice is quiet.

“Yes.” You answer, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off. “Do not apologize. Ingo and I have spent many afternoons doing the same. I’m just glad I was there to offer help.”

From that point on, things are… different between you and the twins. Emmet must have told his brother about what happened, because Ingo is more open around you.

You’ve been friends for a long time, but something seems to have unlocked now. The three of you quickly catch like a struck match.

Parallel Play

You spend a lot of time over at their place, and they at yours. Expect Ingo to politely ask if he or Emmet or both can come spend time with you.

This worried you at first, when you were still friends and not yet dating, but the twins don’t actually want your attention, per say. They just want to be in the same room as you while they do their own thing. Not having to “host” takes so much pressure off of you that you wonder why anyone entertains any other way.

Ingo will be reading, curled up in one of your chairs or on a couch, so still you’d think he was asleep if not for the intermittent turn of a page. Emmet is reviewing battle plans and notes, spread out across your table, one leg bouncing. Occasionally, he gets up to pace and mutter to himself, not looking at either you or his brother. You’re working on one of your hobbies in the living room. Not one of you bothers the others. It’s… peaceful. And nice, just having them unobtrusively nearby.

Do you stim? They have a cache of puzzle-y, twisty toys and clickers in a drawer. You’re more than welcome to them, or to anything else you need.

Eventually, if you’d like, you can curl up with Ingo underneath the weighted blanket he’s got spread across his lap. He’ll swing an arm around you without looking up from his book, and you listen to his heartbeat and steady breathing as you nod off.

Or Emmet might come over to you and quietly offer you a warm mug of hot chocolate. The two of you sit back-to-back in silence, sipping your drinks and working on your respective projects.

How nice it is, you think, to spend time with those who understand.

#ingo #ingo x reader #emmet #emmet x reader #submas #submas x reader #x reader #mailbox💌#my writing #a nonny mouse

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valiwrites · 3 hours ago

Text

reincarnation ✧.* formula 1

: ̗̀➛ pairing: formula 1 x senna!reincarnation!male!oc (nico santos) : ̗̀➛ warnings: strong language, people shipping drivers but nothing serious, bromance, hate comments : ̗̀➛ author’s note: i wrote this before and got a lot of hate for it. if it’s not your thing, just scroll past—no need to spread negativity. i didn’t write this just to read mean comments.

: ̗̀➛ smau

danielricciardo ✔︎

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, nicosantos and 1.3m others

danielricciardo the funniest part was... i had to held him back so he didn't murder anyone yesterday

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user1 reason 727390 why daniel and nico are my fav duo

user2 showed my dad a picture of nico and he said he hasn't seen anything of senna in years i had to explain to him that this is not senna 😭

user3 my mom said that too!! but nico hates being called senna

charles_leclerc i haven't seen nico that mad ever

user4 why is the first picture so wholesome tho omg

user5 because danny is wholesome

user6 nico was ready to commit a whole crime and daniel said ✨no✨

maxverstappen1 i was lowkey scared for my life not gonna lie

user7 danny out here being the emotional support human for a guy who could probably fight god

user8 nah but the way nico looks at daniel in the vid… y’all seeing this or am i delulu

user3 the way his eyes soften when he looks at daniel is so cute

user5 y'all are so delusional he didn't even look at daniel 😭

lando nico was pacing like a dad whose kid just crashed his car 💀

user9 why does every chaotic duo have one guy who keeps the other from getting arrested

user10 danny being the only thing between nico and a felony is so on brand

nicosantos ✔︎

liked by danielricciardo, mickschumacher, lando and 3.2m others

nicosantos mood after yesterday

view all 743k comments

user1 help nico really wanted to throw hands 😭😭

nicosantos you know it

user2 nico has a cat???

user3 it's max's cat lmaoo

user4 he kinda fine

user5 i have been saying that but no one listens to me

user6 the way he just crouched by daniel’s car like it’s some kind of secret mission 💀

user7 lowkey nico should’ve been in the movie ‘mad man on the edge'

user8 no way you can look at them and not see the chemistry. it's so obvious

user9 nah, the way nico looks at daniel in that video is giving ‘you’re mine’ vibes

user10 no wtf don't say that...

user11 why do i feel like nico is totally in love with daniel and he just doesn’t know it yet?

user12 why is everyone suddently shipping them hello

user13 bc daniel hugged nico at the press conference 😭

nicosantos ✔︎

liked by lando, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 2.5m others

nicosantos ok, so we look alike. i get it. but let’s be real, i’m not him. just because we share a lot similarities doesn’t mean we’re the same person. i’ve been getting a lot of hate in my DMs, and honestly, it’s getting old. so, can we all just chill and let me live my own life? respect is all i’m asking for

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user1 literally, it’s just a resemblance, relax people

user2 the hate is so uncalled for. nico deserves respect not this mess

user3 people acting like he’s actually senna’s clone, chill out

user4 he's trying really hard to be 🙄

user5 the fact that nico has to explain this is crazy. let him breathe

user6 you can’t just deny the resemblance though, it’s a little weird you’re acting like it’s nothing

nicosantos i’m not denying it, but i’m also not claiming to be someone i’m not. it’s not that complicated

user7 he’s just salty because people keep bringing up senna. get over it

user8 he doesn’t owe anyone an apology for looking like someone. leave him alone

niconews ✔︎

liked by 47k users

niconews eyes never lie... this was nico just a day after all the hate he’s been facing recently. in a raw moment during an interview, when asked, "you seem pretty pissed at the situation," he didn’t hold back. nico responded, "well, people stick their noses in everyone’s business without thinking about feelings. i didn’t ask to be born the way i am, i’m just trying to live my life." his voice cracked, and despite trying to hold it together, tears started to form. it was a moment that showed just how much this constant pressure has been affecting him. in a world where we all expect people to be perfect or fit into certain molds, nico's vulnerability spoke volumes.

view all 9k comments

user1 it's heartbreaking to see someone so kind and real get treated like this

user2 the pressure he must be under is insane. we forget these are real people

user3 this is so unfair, just let the guy breathe for once

user4 he’s literally milking the whole senna comparison for attention. stop pretending like it’s all ‘the haters’

niconews if you think that’s what this is about, you clearly missed the point

user4 he’s literally crying over people pointing out how much he looks like senna? get over it niconews it’s not about looks, it’s about respect. maybe try understanding that

nicosantos ✔︎

liked by lando, carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 4.1m others

nicosantos bromance is real

tagged: lando

view all 1.4m comments

user1 aww the senna cap

user2 i love nico he's adorable

user3 lando 😭😭

user4 lando is always the funniest person in the group

user5 nico with the senna cap is a whole vibe. love the respect for the legend

user6 this is the kind of bromance we all need in our lives

user7 nico wearing the senna cap but being his own person? love that for him

nicosantos see now i can't tell if you're being sarcastic or fr 💀

user7 i was being fr 😭😭

user8 someone tell lando to stop being this extra, i can’t keep up

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iguessweusewords · 2 days ago

Text

prompt from @misscrazyfangirl321

"Are we in love? I mean, yeah, probably, but that is a problem for future us. Right now, we're just trying to survive the plot."

Odysseus and Penelope pre-EPIC ______________________________________________________________

There was nothing in this world that could have prepared Odysseus for the pain of Athena’s betrayal. He asked her for help to get Penelope to notice him. It was his fault, he supposed, for not being more specific. Afterall, nothing gets a girl’s attention like ruining her best friend’s love life. He was pretty sure Penelope would never even look at him again after this.

He was currently trying to mend Helen’s broken heart by proving that Menelaus wasn’t the one who stole the Queen’s favourite necklace. It was rumored that anyone who touched the necklace other than the Queen would die a horrible death. Unfortunately, it just so happened that Menelaus got a cold the very day it was stolen. Naturally, the suitors with their brains the size of a rat’s nose decided that the most logical conclusion was that Menelaus was the thief and the necklace, obviously, was cursing him with death via a runny nose.

Of course, all of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if Odysseus hadn’t tried to impress Penelope with his cleverness by pointing out that the Queen’s necklace was stolen. In his defense, the goddess Athena told him it was a good idea. In Athena’s defense, she was not the goddess of love.

Now, here he was hiding behind the curtains of the Jewel Room trying to find out who the real thief was.

He heard a rustling beside him. Odysseus turned, intending on telling them to be quiet, only to freeze when he saw who it was.

“What are you doing?” Penelope asked.

This was fine. This was totally fine. Penelope was looking at him. Speaking to him. Looking as beautiful as ever. He most definitely did not forget to breathe. He was fine. He was calm. He was cool. He was collected.

“Penelope, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make Helen cry. I was just trying to impress you. Please don’t hate me. I’ll fix this. I’ll prove Menelaus didn’t do this.”

See, completely calm.

“You were trying to impress me? Why?” she asked, ignoring everything else.

Okay, that’s not how this was supposed to go. The first time he told her how he felt, he was supposed to be cool, impressive, not nearly crying on his knees. But it was too late, he couldn’t go back now.

“Because I’m in love with you? I have been since the very first time I saw you. I was supposed to say this in more beautiful words, but I can’t look at you and form coherent sentences at the same time.”

“How about this?” she suggested with a smile. “After we’re done with all this, why don’t you meet me by the olive tree and you can give me those beautiful words then.”

It felt like Odysseus’ brain turned to mush. Maybe there just wasn’t enough oxygen behind these curtains. The real thief could have walked in at this very moment and stolen every jewel in the castle and Odysseus would not have noticed. Did Penelope just suggest that she wanted to meet him again?

“Wait, you don’t hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?” she laughed. “You’re the only one here with any brains. I like you.”

She liked him?

“Are we in love?” Wow, he needed to slow down. She never said anything about love. He probably freaked her out with that. Now she really was never going to speak to him. She probably doesn’t even want him at the olive tree anymore.

“I mean, yeah, probably” she said, breaking him out of his spiral.

Oh. Oh.

They were in love.

“But that’s a problem for future us.” she continued. “Right now, we’re just trying to make it through this plot.”

Right. The plot. The plot where the suitors accused his best friend of something he didn’t do. He totally forgot.

#odysseus is just a girl #odypen #epic the musical #fanfiction #odysseus x penelope #writing #writing prompt #the odyssey #they are the standard #i would do anything for these two #also #my sister made me write this #the first time i read this prompt i immediately thought of percabeth #but my sister wanted to write about percabeth so i wrote about odypen #they are my roman empire

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comfortyart · 13 hours ago

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I'm really curious how Fen, Solas, and Dorian first got together. Did two of them come first and a third joined later? How did they approach the conversation?

Ok I’m sorry this will probably be long winded, rambly, also just messily written - and, despite the fact that this moment is my planned next one shot about them - there are just so many moving parts that actually lead to them getting together.

Throwing this under a break because it's so long

When they were at Haven, there was some tension between Solas and Fen. Despite Fen’s best and continued efforts, Solas is very short with him at the beginning, a lot of it relating to Fen being a grey warden. On the other hand, from the moment Fen and Dorian lock eyes, it's flirting. They make easy friends, Dorian very taken by Fen’s happy-to-help golden retriever like personality, trauma bonded by the happenings of In Hushed Whispers and easily spending a lot of time together. Leading up to Skyhold, Solas starts taking to Fen’s late night “questionings”. If Solas considers Fen uneducated, he was going to ask and learn as much as he could. It’s true he didn’t have many opportunities to get “book smart” (he is precious), but he loves to learn, and we all know how much Solas loves to embark wisdom. So there they are, every evening - and to Solas’ surprise, Fen is very responsive to his teachings. He clearly considers everything he’s told, utilizes it in making decisions moving forward, and comes back with new questions. And before long he finds himself drawn to the way Fen navigates day-to-day. Perhaps he judged too soon, I mean, Fen can be and is foolish at times, but he sees how Fen uses the knowledge he’s given, and suddenly he’s hooked. This turns into late evenings with the three of them as they all grow closer throughout the timeline of the game. Fen enjoys watching Solas and Dorian debate, likes watching Solas paint while Dorian reads beside him on the couch. Sometimes they’re both just listening to Fen yap about darkspawn or a weird looking tree he saw earlier that day while they sit around the fire. Its not really anything particularly even intimate, though it is to them to some extent because they don’t spend much time alone with anyone else - and they all sort of become inseparable- EVEN after Fen and Solas get together.

Dorian isn’t surprised. Even in their flirting he knew Fen was taken with Solas from before they’d met. And Dorian, who had spent a lot of time alone without really anyone close to him, was content to just have two people he held dearly, even if his heart was unfortunately growing more attached by the day. He sort of feels bad about it too, they’re a couple, but he’s always there.

And then, Fen starts hearing the false calling. And by and then, I mean, he’s been hearing it for a while - but its getting worse. He is all but inconsolable one evening, and Solas and Dorian are looking at each other not sure what to do. I mean what CAN they do right? They're just as horrified. And...We can ignore the added layer of Solas and his fuck this is all in a round about way my fault situation for now LOL

Following Here lies the Abyss, Solas and Dorian are sort of high alert, a bit more attentive, not that Fen needs it, but more in a way they were woken up to how important this idiot had become to them. They felt like they could lose him to this, selfishly, ignoring what the loss of Fen could do to the world, but now horrified at the idea of losing him - generally.

And It’s not long after this, a close encounter leads Fen to a near death experience by an ambush. Dorian and Solas are so panicked they can’t leave his side, and without ever verbally asking, they’re both with each other like a crutch - now both seemingly living through the fear they were really going to lose Fen.

It was traumatic, and Solas refuses to let Dorian leave his side, like he truly believes it may break him to deal with this crushing fear alone. When Fen finally wakes, Dorian’s relief is suddenly hit with the realization that he is not to them what they are to each other. Suddenly like the world is being crushed amongst the happiness Fen isn’t dead, he is quick to say he’s sorry for always being in their space and that he’d try to give them more alone time since he didn’t want to ever take the precious time they have together away from them.

Solas shuts it down, fast. A few glances between him and Fen and it’s a confession. Fen and Solas had been falling for Dorian, and were convinced he’d want no part, and so settled to always having him in their space. It was emotional, for so many reasons, and a lot of tears, and it became impossible to tear them apart for the next fortnight.

#hello when I said the lore was deep I meant it #I could yap for hours #and I have #art tag #solapavellan #sopavellan #fen'elgara #solas dragon age #dorian pavus #forty speaks #solavellan #solavellen hell #pavellan

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xtodohdohdoyd · 1 year ago

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Is it wrong that black widow is one of my favorite characters and i just cannot see her being with anyone romantically at all?

#I’m not trying to disrespect any of the shippers out there I’m not against shipping there are ships that I respect but don’t ship #but I just really can’t see them being with anyone ever or at the moment #is there something wrong with me #is there something im not seeing?#I’m ok with them being with anyone as long as they’re happy and respected but i really don’t care much #i wonder what that says about me #I don’t feel this way about ALL my favorite characters btw just some of them #I only feel this way with Miguel o’hara blackwidow and daredevil #there might be more characters but those there are the only ones I just can’t see them being with anyone #like I respect their ships but i don’t think they’re ready yet to be with anyone

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screampied · 8 months ago

Text

❝ IF I WAS A RICH GIRL . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. not only do you get your panties back but you get a handsome, suave sugar daddy as a gift. gojo takes you out on a date but the lavish, exquisite food isn’t what he’s exactly hungry for. hint: it’s between your legs. oh, and you.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public themes, toy usage, gojo is a nasty menace, cunnilıngus, implied multiple ōrgasms, praise kink, mentions of brēeding, impact play, size kink, degradation, edging, manhandling.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

“s- ssssatoru,” you hiss. clenching onto your fork, you squeeze your thighs together underneath a velvet red table. it was as if every area of your nerves could barely hold themselves together as they’re continuously being interrupted. interrupted by the sheer vibrations juddering your legs apart. he’s sitting beside you, humming to himself as his eyes skim through the pricey menu. acting as if he doesn’t hear your sweet faint whines, he heard them alright. loud and clear. it’s been a while—ever since that day, you’d have been a fool to not call him from the business card he gave you. accepting his precious offer to be a sugar baby. his sugar baby. and now, you were on a date with him. not just any date though, a date where he brings along a cute new bluetooth vibrator he bought for you. it’s happy new home was located right between your pretty thighs. the setting was powered on level four and you were so so close.

this was bad . . this was really really bad, the immense pressure steadily continues to arise. the bzzzing of the toy rings through your ears to where it gets stuck in your head. everything felt slow, real real slow. the entire five-star restaurant alone was quite loud. blaring with a multitude of conversations from talkative fellow guests. the vibrator makes you whine out a tiny, shrilling squeak, and you squeeze onto his pants leg. “you’re smiling. i know you can hear m- me.”

“huhhh, oh no sweet thing. ‘s just my natural face,” and he’s got a coy grin. he was definitely smiling. “let’s try one more level,” and your legs were just about to give out the moment the buzzing intensifies. so embarrassing, you keep trying to look around, in utter hopes that no one was looking your way. it felt so good, orgasmic even. you’re on your last final hinges of pleasure before he tugs against your ripped fishnets. “hold it, girl,” he directs, planting a kiss against your neck. “don’t finish, at least wait until our food comes. let’s try usin' those manners tonight, yeahh?”

“satoru jus’ let me cum,” you whine, grabbing his wrist. you feel against his g-shock. the cold, metal material making your cute fingertips shiver a bit.

out of amusement— he hums, watching as you try to drag his hand down between your heated thighs.

seeing how desperate you were for more of his beloved touch was adorable. your expanding heat only grows and that’s when you then slouch back against the fat padded restaurant booth. the fabric of your panties felt sticky—almost adhesive like with how it sticks against your mess between your lacey undergarments. just voluntarily glued against your plushed thighs. the toy’s been wavering against your pretty clit for about a good ten minutes. the waiter took you and gojo’s order quite a while ago since then—and those long ten minutes since then felt like long ten hours. “fuck, ‘toru. can’t hold it, pleasepleaseplease.”

“hmmmm,” gojo kneads a thumb against your wrist. his touch alone made you throb more. his touch, you just wanted more of it each time. it was addictive, like a drug, like candy even.

you’re so close to your release that it’s right there. at the very tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. saliva pours into your mouth as the the inevitable pressure gradually emerges.

as people in the restaurant continue to walk by, you have to try to not be so obvious. you were failing miserably though—anyone could peer a look at you and spot the lewd expressions stretched across your face.

by now, you weren’t really trying to hide it. you were about to make a mess at a public restaurant, and maybe the simple thought of that alone made you pulse with no shame. “aw, y’r squeezin’ my wrist so tight, baby. really wanna make a mess, do ya?” and he leans right up against your neck, giving you a soft kiss. hot breath collides against your collarbone as he gives you a kiss, one simple kiss and you’re just so feral. not a single thought embedded into your mind except you were about to make the biggest nest imaginable. right underneath this table— all thanks to the stupid toy, and stupid satoru gojo, your beloved new sugar daddy. you’re nodding, tiny babbles of whimpers spewing out from your lips before he strums his fingertips against the rotating vibrator. gojo feels against the outer part of it sticking out of you, and he just wants to pull it out, making you cum himself with his tongue. he’s dirty but at least he has some kind of decorum. kind of. “so fuckin’ hot. gettin’ off at a five star restaurant like this, was supposed to be a special night but you just had to be a messy girl today, huh.”

“y- yes, ‘toru, please,” and your breathing hitches the second his frigid cold lips make contact against your skin yet again. if it was anything that could make you so weak, it was gojo’s obscene, sloppy kisses. you craved them like you craved air. “hafta cum, let me finish please. wan’ it so bad.”

with a little teasing sigh he murmurs, “okay fine,” and once he gives you the go ahead, you finally let go. the deafening music reverberating throughout the diner harmonizes over your orgasm— it was a tiny squeal but still. it silenced your own release, but you were still quite loud. you’re slump backward, feeling him turn off the toy from his phone with a simple button and he chuckles. “baby you’re so fuckin’ dramatic,” and he drags a thumb against your now soaked entrance. you’re panting, tummy heaving and heaving as your quaking legs were all sprawled open underneath the table. pried open just for him. “such a wet girl. kinda just wanna get a little taste. my own appetizer before the mea—”

“chilled alaskan king crab legs, two complementary cups of ice and herb roasted chicken—?” a waiter cuts off gojo as he’s flirting with you. with a whip of a head turn, he glances up, a bit annoyed at being interrupted. the waiter with the ordered food in hand stares at the two of you, a short petite male with a eye twitching expression. he gulped, seeing the gojo satoru and decided not to question just why his hand was literally between your thighs. “um, sorry for the delay. here you go.”

“thank you,” gojo cheeses a fake smile—yet as he watches intently as the waiter hands you both the steaming hot plates of lavish cuisine. he pops the same finger that was toying with you right into his mouth. you gaze at gojo, so filthy..

again, no shame at all—a shameless man at best. briefly, he sucks against his finger, savoring the after honeyed taste before smirking. it was as if he preferred your taste rather than the food sitting right in front of him. curling his tongue against his finger, he gives the server a coy nod. “keep the change, man.”

the waiter was stunned to see gojo reaching in his suit, grabbing out a whopping tip amount of four hundred dollars in cash—he stammers, accepting it with a grateful sheepish smile. “ah, t- thank you. please do come again.”

as the server leaves, you’re left with your own body still panting from your most recent teeth shattering release. the food was sizzling, piping hot. with hooded, partly open eyes, you dig your nails into his slacks. “you’re s- so nasty, ‘toru,” and picturing the image of him licking his finger like that . . just a few seconds ago as if it was nothing, you’d lie a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on. at least a little bit anyway. he snickers, planting a kiss against your jawline as you struggle to catch your incoming irregular breaths. “my panties are all soaked now.”

“and. let’s be real—when are you not wet, princess,” he teases, grabbing a napkin to wipe the remnants of drool seeping from the outer corners of your mouth.

gojo’s eyes were so pretty, the more you stare into his elegant, ethereal pupils— the more you wanted him. wanted more of him. swallowing, he grabs the front of your hand before kissing it. the moment his lips press against your hand, you feel your tummy swarm up with butterflies. “and don’t pout. ‘m gonna take them right off ya anyways, c’mon. let’s finish eating. got a surprise for ya back at home.”

at gojo’s mansion, secluded from other buildings to disturb his peace—his surprise for you was nothing more than his tongue.

“i need you so bad, you don’t fuckin’ understand,” he groans, and he’s making sure to take his time with you. his sweet precious time,

you’re in the master bedroom— his bedroom where it was known for having your sweet moans reverberating and bouncing off the walls. as you’re laid on your back, you let off a soft whine once he’s trailing his tongue everywhere down your body. he starts slow, making his way back up to kiss you. strands of delicate snowy strands tickle against your forehead as his lips harshly crash onto yours. you moan, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the leftover taste of what tasted like sweet, sweet tequila. he was still in his suit and tie and you wanted nothing more than to have it off. your hands roam to yank on his tie and he gradually grinds his body against you. “yeah, that’s right. ouch my body, girl. all yours.”

he’s speaking between lewd wet kisses. his voice was deep—his rhythm against your body was so passionate that it was almost carnal. you taste a bit of mint on his tongue also, separate tongues continue to dance and fight against each other all the while he’s left you speechless.

breathless even,

every few seconds he’d have to come up for air, nibbling against your bottom lip coltishly. “don’t be shy,” he whispers, watching as you hesitate to feel against his body. he finds that characteristic about you cute, how you were still shy yet slowly warming up to him. “touch me,” he repeats, his voice a bit more raspy— a bit more needy. so you do, raising your hand and you slip it underneath his dress shirt. as the cottony piece of clothing glides against your skin, he’s still compressing his lips against yours before your fingers start to roam further . . .

as they wander down the older man’s body, you feel his exact build. he was absolutely ripped, even in his early thirties—he could have easily been mistaken as a frat boy. it was no surprise, gojo practically spent his life in the gym. his personal gym anyway. you couldn’t help but take a peak at his buff biceps—only imagining what’d it be like for him to put you in a teasing chokehold.

those arms, that jacked build . .

the more you ponder about him manhandling you, the more you’re so close to making yourself more drenched. as everything progresses, you moan again. his sensual grinding against you gets more quicker and quicker over time. his hardened bulging boner rubs off on you and an arm of yours slings around his broad neck. “mhm,” he groans, feeling the soft centers of your fingertips stroke its way down toward his forbidden happy trail.

it trails and trails,

so pretty, just a beloved white trail of curled hair running down just above the horizontal border of the rest of his pubic hair. it starts near his navel and slides its way further down. a vertical strip of hair that you could never get your hands off of. as you’re still kissing him deeply, teeth gnashing amongst each other before gojo ultimately ulls away.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum jus’ from kissing you,” he lets off a throaty laugh, trying to hide his flustered state. you had him so weak. so weak but he’d never admit that. gojo brings his swollen, dripping lips towards your neck, then your collarbone, all until he goes just a bit lower. “look at this body,” he coos, pausing to take in your beauty right underneath him. “yeah, ‘m gonna take such good care of you, sweets. jus’ lie back ‘n let me love you.”

his words were as smooth as silk— the deep, resonating pitch in it bellows all around the thin walls of his bedroom. the seductively sly baritone of his voice alone makes you pulse. if it was anything gojo had, he had a way with his fucking words. gojo purses his lips, coating your tummy with a plethora of kisses. you struggle to stay still, your expensive dress he bought you a few days ago for this exact occasion now all wrinkled and creases.

but truthfully,

he didn’t care—besides, he’d always buy you another one. his favorite motto.

as you’re lounged back, he makes you spread your legs. “mwah,” he purrs against your skin, lolling out his tongue just a bit to create a slime wet trail. it goes all the way down until he reaches near your cute navel . . then up to your half ripped panties. they weren’t ripped before the date, but they certainly were now. “you’re so sensitive today. barely did anythin' ‘n you’re squirmin’ from my touch.”

“s- satoru, please,” you whine out a pathetic breath. a hand then grips onto his tangled strands like velcro. tightly, you didn’t let go— at least not yet anyway. his hair was were messy, and that simple detail alone made him ten times more attractive. gojo’s hair as usual was a bit slicked back but still unkempt, especially now due to your gluing grip. fingers of yours massage its way through his scalp and he almost moans. with a pouty expression, you continue to speak. “you’ve been edging me all day. ‘s no fair.”

“thaaaat’s kind of rude,” he chaffs with his white brows contorting into a furrow. “was the toy not enough?” and with a shushed tone, he whistles against your clit— giving it a soft kiss, a thumb peeling down the center. “oh, right.. probably wasn’t, forgot how greedy this pussy is. ‘s my bad.”

your back arches, and you moan once he prods two long fingers inside of you—your warmth envelops around his digits easily before he pulls it out to give it a good three second whiff. “sweet,” gojo slyly says, licking against his fingers. “would have rather ate this instead,” and you moan, watching how his mouth was practically watering from your alluring taste. such a nasty man, the nastiest. gojo leans up to you, tapping against your chin. “ah ah, open that mouth baby, before i eat. don’t wanna hog, wanna make sure ya get a taste too.”

whimpering, you part your lips— sticking out your tongue before his lengthy slender fingers tug its way into your mouth.

immediately, you suck around them, lashes of yours fluttering from your blissful arousal. “m-mhm,” you slip out an inaudible gasp, feeling his free hand grab against your twitching cunt. gojo’s staring at you with the most smug expression before he pulls his digits out, sneaking a wet kiss right on your mouth. as you taste yourself, a messy cobweb string of spit departs from each mouth before he lies you back down. “fuck, hurry ‘toru.”

“now . . baby, don’t rush me,” he teases, and with your back laid against the squishy cushioned mattress, he finally digs in. your knees poke and extend outward and a sweet whine rips out rawly out of your throat. it’s almost guttural, he’s yanking out noises from you that you didn’t even know you could even produce.

once gojo starts— it’s never ending.

he could eat you out for hours, despite how his jaw would tense and tighten. you’re moaning at the way he starts off with sloppy kisses before just straight up digging in. nose deep within seconds. it swipes against your folds in various circular motions. the rotation of his tongue was brutal— you’re whimpering, maintaining a rough grip against his hair and he chuckles. sucking deeply against your puffy slit. you throb in his mouth, and you’re already squelching. gojo groans, reaching a hand inside of his executive pants to stroke himself off.

your pleasure was his pleasure after all. he wanted to always make that clear.

gojo wasn’t lying about pointing out how hard you made him. a thumb of his runs down the vein that remains on his dick. with his eyes closed, he allows his tongue to wander through every part of your pussy. he knew just where to go. he knew the exact spots to make you scream and whine out for more.

with ease, he locates every orifice— he doesn’t miss anywhere, more so because he can’t afford to.

gojo loves more than anything to make out with your cunt. his most favorite thing to do was to french kiss against it.

after each obscene mwah after mwah, he even allows his own saliva to help him out— despite how you were already a practical dripping faucet. careless, saturated kisses of his had you throbbing time and time again in his mouth. his head vigorously shakes back and forth, side to side as you’re practically shoving him forward. “eh—easy on the hair, pretty,” he jibes, concisely parting his lips away. gojo stares at his thumb that’s trying to insert its way in. he grows quiet, watching the scene in front of him. within long extended seconds, your pussy’s swallowing the single digit whole and you swear under your breath at how lengthy his fingers were . . even a simple thumb. gojo’s thumb stretched you out so good that you couldn’t even comprehend the feeling in words. not like you could comprehend anything anyway, you were already stupid. all from his tongue, his touch, everything. “god, such a wet girl. the nerve to be walkin’ around this soaked, ‘n she’s quite the talker today too..”

as he’s rambling with a thumb entering in and out of your cunt, he takes a moment to spit on it. it’s shimmery, he blows against it before letting off a flirty whistle. “yeah she fuckin’ is,” he praises your folds. “oooh, bet she’s gonna give me a nice squirt or two later,” and you moan once he brings his chatty lips back towards it. your pool of heat continues to grow before he lays his tongue flat. he was always a man to make a bit of a mess. your heartbeat starts to get so rapid that you heard it’s pulse right through your ears. the firm grip you have on his hair was tight. tangled crumped up fingers combing right through his hair— it makes him a bit hard. the feeling of you dragging him back and forth against his face. you could barely keep your legs open but you didn’t want him to stop. he’s practically slobbering over your pussy before he breaks away, giving you a smug grin. “like when i make out with her more than you?”

“f-fuck, ‘toru,” was all you could mutter out in shaky lips. as he’s relishing his meal between your thighs, gojo spanks your cunt twice. you’re so soaked that a few sloshing droplets hit against his skin. “ngh, you’re teasin’ me. ‘m gonna cum if you k-keep doin’ that.”

sucking passionately against your clit, his tongue flicks against the sensitive nub. that spots has you short circuiting. “nuh uh, good girls cum when they deserve it,” and the tempo of his suckling gets quicker by the mile. you’re about to break, unceremoniously grinding your hips against his mouth so much to where he chortles. as he laughs, hot breath of his fans against your pussy and it only makes you throb ten times more.

straight convulsions,

you’re feeling so many sensations languidly twitch against your body all at once that you could barely keep up. everything’s fuzzy so you felt like you were on cloud eight. cloud nine or whatever people call it— honestly, your mind was far too fried to even figure it out. gojo grunts, snapping you back to reality with a soft swat against your folds. “be honest with me, sweets,” gojo slicks his tongue out of your clingy walls, peppering a playful kiss against your soddened, moist folds. “do ya deserve to cum? do ya deserve to be my messy baby? tell me the truth.”

with a cute, exasperated sigh, you sob out a needy cry. “y- yesss, i’ve been good, ‘toru. been good all day,” and his sucking against your clit grows within speed. the very cartilage of his nose against his nose prods against your entrance and you feel like you’re floating. the tip of his nose was all soaked, all because of your cunt continuously scooting up against it. as he’s propped right up between your legs, a hand of his squeezes down on your right thigh before giving it a little bite. your legs, one of his favorite things to gently press his teeth into. as well as your neck, but your legs—they were just a force to be reckoned with. you were a force to be reckoned with. “satoruuuu.”

“sweetheaaaaart,” he mocks your cute dragging of your words, slurping every lewd amount of your primal arousal. you’re so cute, barely bring able to stay still so much to where he’s got to hold you in place. “but you were bein’ a bit of a brat earlier,” he hoarsely utters, rubbing his hard on against the edge of the bed. “teasin’ me, even tried ‘ta stroke me off while we were in the diner,” and with coy eyes, he gives you a cunning smirk. as you pout, he simpers. “aww yeahhh, remember that dontcha?”

continuing to rut your sloppy cunt against his face, he playfully nibbles against your clit — you whine, biting down on your lip before spreading a plump thumb against your folds like jelly.

“dunno if she should be messy just yet,” and he’s such a tease. as he speaks, his eyes avert towards your pussy, clearly wanting you to understand he was talking to her and not you. at least not right now. you could hear the playfulness underneath his tone. your heart’s racing— it’s so intense, your legs were quavering within his hold. struggling to maintain decent breaths, you end up finishing anyway. it hits you so abruptly that it’s rude, all kinds of nerves surge through you and your mouth pries itself open. the only thing escaping out of your sweet dry throat was a desperate, wailing whimper. gojo pauses, bringing a final kiss against your pussy before smearing a thumb against his lips. “the fuck.”

“s- sorry,” you pant, but truth be told—you weren’t. in fact, if he squinted just enough, he could see the little smile trying to stretch itself against your guilty, sheeny lips. you’d only last a few minutes with his tongue, featuring his long fingers, but still.

first and foremost, your powerful orgasm had you feral, a cooling air suddenly sets down against your skin as your legs tremble before your pussy gets slapped with a mean smack. one turns into two, then three, then four . .

“f- fuuuck, ‘toru,” you gasp, hearing the wet swats against your cunt. you’re still sensitive, your swollen folds all dampened with nothing but your slick, soaking arousal. so wet, so sloppily wet and only wet just for him.

“we talked ‘bout this, sweets,” gojo grumbles, giving your folds an almost disappointed kiss. “but ‘s like ya never listen, guess y’r pussy needs more training,” and as you’re trying to collect as much gasps of air as you can through your full lungs, he squeezes your cunt with his entire wrist. unzipping his slacks, he leans into you before pulling you into a kiss. the entire spacey room was dim lit, velvety shaded rose petals scattered everywhere onto the crinkled sheets. gojo knew how to set the mood. as he shoves a tongue down your throat, still getting a good grip of your cunt with his palm, he then makes you flop right onto your back. “mch,” he hastily pulls away, a tongue savoring your sweetened lip gloss that smothers itself against your twitching mouth. “can’t look at ya right now. face that way, yeah. face down ‘n ass up. jus’ like i taught ya, pretty.”

with unsteady hands sinking into the bed, you do as he says. a soft whine ferociously snatches out of you once a big hand of his caresses your left ass cheek. his touch, you were always so weak for it. ever since you first met the man, your first encounter which was about approximately almost two weeks ago. you started to get deeply attached, well, at least your body was . .

as you arch forward, you feel a soft scratchy material plop against your back. gojo doesn’t waste time, tugging down his own brand of boxers with his last name stripped in bold letters near the stretchy hem. grunting, he springs his aroused dick out, aligning himself against your achy, drooling entrance. the feeling of material was just gojo throwing a few wads of cash near your back. “bratty but gorgeous,” he scoffs, feeling you wriggle your ass against him. oh, you were gonna be the death of him. the fifty dollar bills trail and slide down your spine— the view of it was so sexy, he wanted to savor this moment. you’re his favorite girl, he already knew it. a hand of his grips near your hip. “needy ‘lil thing. just gotta move that ass against me,” and as he’s speaking, he gifts your ass with another impolite spank. “ugh, pussy’s to die for.”

“s- satoru, fuck me,” your plea came out of your mouth in such a small tone. it was cute, your knees that dug into the mattress remain to grow shaky and wobbly before nearly giving out. the size difference amused him.

the delicious size of his fat cock was pure bliss. you don’t think you could ever get used to it. every time with him always felt like the first. with two clingy big hands glued to your waist, he’s easing his way in slowly. his fat tip ploddingly opens up the outer sloppy walls of your entrance and you’re so slick for him that you’re already coating gojo from the very base down. growing a bit frustrated that it seems like he’s taking forever, you creep a hand down between your thighs to touch yourself but he only spanks your wrist away.

“girl—please, let’s not touch my pussy today,” he warns slyly, catching your hand with quick reflexes.

you moan, feeling his girth expand throughout your walls. he’s just so fucking big, your mouth stretches itself open and a tiny squeak escapes. “so wet, mhm, listen to how sloppy you get for me,” and you end up falling face forward into the bed. with your ass still up in the air, he’s easily emitting such filthy moans from your throat. your pussy doesn’t take long to constrict around his hefty length. gojo always fits nice and snug inside, you wholeheartedly take him inside, drooling from how your cunt grips around him in such a secure way. just one thrust, a single thrust from gojo and you were already limp. “thereee we go, take it, pretty.”

“i-i’m gonna cum,” you whine, speaking in an almost breathy way. fat callused fingertips of his run down your spine, sending you various shivers before he spanks your bass again. the dollar bills that lay against your back start to fall right off of you from the quick paced movements. “s- sirrrr,” and with another smack, he corrects your sweet tone so you can rephrase and address him the right way. “i— i mean satoru, fuck you’re s’big. ‘m gonna cum again.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic sweetheart,” he purrs in a rich tone, feeling you already start to gape around him. your pussy flutters from his thick entrance, and once he starts up a pace you’re frantic for more. a hand of his wraps around the back of your throat like a necklace before the ruthless drilling eventually starts. the sticking cacophonous pap pap paps against each jerking limb paps was so loud. skin against skin, body against body, you felt your jaw tighten. he’s so precise and rigorous with his sharp hips that it gives you whiplash. you’re never prepared—even if you try to be. gojo knows how to hit every part of your cunt in such a way to make you squeal out in pleasure, in ecstasy. he’s got an upward curve that wanders all inside of your caved love areas. just a few thrusts and you were already salivating. “mhm,” he huffs, hearing the stickiness your cunt sings against his base. already, it’s a wet trail coating around his dick with each time he pulls out before back in. “don’t get lazy on me, pretty. i need to see a better arch. even i can do better than that.”

with a pout at his maddening cockiness, he spanks you again. you arch your back forward a bit more and he coos, “good fuckin’ girl,” and he grabs a nice chunk of your ass. burying your head into the crook of your elbow, it takes him barely any time at all to locate your forbidden g-spot.

once he hits it exactly, the sound that escapes from your lips was adorable—it was a little shriek, it sounded so beatific and harmonious it was as if he was listening to a song. a song he never wanted to end, your sweet voice. “goddamn,” he groans, feeling your ass thwack its way back against him in salacious rapture. oh, but despite that all, he knows you’re nothing but a tease. especially with your movements against him, happily moving your hips in sync with his. you’re fucking back against him and it makes him kiss his teeth. “maybe this ‘s what ya needed all along, wanted ‘ta spoil you today but all you wanted was dick, ‘s that right, sweet thing?”

“n- no,” you lie through your teeth, your own voice muffled with how you’re speaking inside of your elbow. your voice was shaky, trembling on every dragging syllable before the bed starts to get rickety. it creates sound with you both— making its own types of lewd harmonies. gojo’s weight pressing against you makes you throb, you were feeling all kinds of pleasure at once. whimpering once more at how he’s stuffing you full of thickset inches, you try to reach down to touch yourself.

“don’t play with me,” he catches your wrist again, an almost snicker departing from his lips.

damn, so close.

holding onto your wrist, he notices you squeeze his hand, rubbing a thumb against his fingers. “aw, does the baby wanna hold my hand?” and as you struggle to nod, he gently pins your arm back.“you’re somethin’ e-else.”

his words start to cut off a bit as he’s keeping up a decent tempo—the frame of the king sized bed starts to get jittery. all from the weight and his sloppy hips rigorously pounding into you. the bed’s creaking, it’s almost deafening with how it screeches aloud from the massing pounds of hefty pressure crushing against it. “d-don’t stop, please,” and he’s just fucking you into his pillow. even the satiny rich sheets of his pillows smell like him. his signature musky scent of his gojo satoru cologne.

. . speaking of,

his pillows even have his last name bedazzled on them. literal cursive letters of ‘gojo’ written in blue. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d roll your eyes. he’s so deep, a hand of his explores the entire curvature of your hips. your curves were one of his favorite parts of your body, he could touch you all day long if he really wanted. the loving warmth that body provided him had him wanting more—yearning for more, more of you. gojo always relishes in how you respond to just a few of his fingers of his dancing against your skin. you were so sensitive and it was a real sight to witness. one of his favorite sights. “fuck, ‘toru. right there, riiight there, fuck.”

as his hips become more sharper, he hits against that same spot that causes a short circuit in your brain. you’re gasping—holding your breath before whining, he’s so thorough. hands of yours slide underneath your barely unclamped bra, fondling against your jerking tits. “good girl, play with y’r nipples for me like that,” and he swats another discourteous spank against your ass. this time it’s harder, it stings for a second and you whimper out from the sudden contact. after he spanks it, he always caresses it, rubbing the soft palm of his hand to make the sudden sting subside. “y’r so fuckin’ hot, pussy’s gonna make me fall for y—”

and he stops his words right at that last bit. your heart flutters— or maybe that was just your pussy, but you were no idiot. you knew what he was gonna say. or maybe you were delusional and misheard what he was saying.

gojo satoru was a filthy man, he steals out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s nothing. he was a little older, which meant that he was a bit more experienced.

quite a lot more than you by a long shot, he made you feel ways in where other men never could. couldn’t even come close. maybe that’s why you were so attracted, why you wanted more . .

a well known businessman, but downright nasty in the sheets. he couldn’t help it, nor did he even really care. gojo had you wrapped around his rich finger, just like how you had him wrapped around yours.

with him,

the passionate intimacy lasts for many many hours. timeless, numerous until your legs were sore, until you’re just being a cum dump for him. you’re pumped full until it’s leaking out of your cunt. so stuffed, with your panties still lazily pulled to the size, some remnants of his cum coats against it. he’s lost count of how many rounds it was— maybe four, five, or was it eight.

all you knew was that your legs had been gave out. you were now flat on your back and he’s fucking you in missionary.

beloved, iconic missionary,

the perfect position to stare you right into your eyes. he grows a liking to grab your chin right when you’re about to cum, peeling your bottom lip down, only to then shove a tongue down your throat. speaking between breathy sentences, he groans—rocking his fit body against yours. “kiss me, baby, suck my tongue,” and as he’s swaying back and forth, washboard abs poking through his shirt, your legs lock around his slim waist. a hand of yours slides its way through his dress shirt and tux, feeling against his faint chest hair and washboard abs before you part your lips. you only then start to gradually suck against the tip of his tongue. his heart beats speedily, synchronizing with yours entirely. he’s dizzy, the static that your body produces against him makes his head throw back as he pulls away. glancing up at the ceiling, still presenting your cunt deep solid strokes—he knew you were gonna be a problem.

his prettiest problem,

perhaps he wasn’t starting to think of you as just his sugar baby, maybe even something more . . but he buried that thought into the very back of his mind. all he really cared about was your pleasure.

pulling away for a moment, still buried into your sopping wet cunt, he grips your chin. whispering in a weary tone, smiling at you, he sighs. “. . tell me,” and he gifts your wet lips a chaste kiss. “you wanna finish with me, pretty?”

“p- please,” you moan, your legs tightly locking around his waist, never letting go. everything was a mess— the entire room had a balmy aroma of love and passion. the both of you were sweating, beads of sweat coating each body. more so gojo, this was a mere work out for him. although, he was actually used to using his body on a daily, so physical activity never bothered him in the slightest. your stomach continues to seize from his fat length and he inches his mouth toward your neck again. his lips were so soft, gently sucking against your tender skin throughout each intimate moment.

viscous amounts of cum race down your thighs as if it’s some kind of lewd competition. as it’s slowly trickling down between your legs slowly, a hand of his slithers down your shaky limbs to feel it. to make sure it doesn’t go to waste, to make sure it doesn’t spill.

gojo satoru’s cum was priceless—quite literally probably. plugging it back in before you whine. “wanna cum with you, ‘toru.”

“can never say no to you, baby,” he hums, bringing another kiss to your lips. despite his raspy worn out tone—he’s still so gentle with your body in his hands. gojo’s zealous hips slow down a bit before his lips capture against yours again. a hand swiftly wraps around your throat, briskly oscillating back against your body before another hand grabs the headboard. you glance up, spitting the veins poke out through his sleeves that were peeling down. he’s giving you slow, sensual thrusts. “fuuuck . . me,” and his words were delayed by a few seconds. he’s mercilessly grinding against your heat so good to where it becomes sloppy. he’s so close again—he knows that feeling all too well. you didn’t know what to focus on. gojo’s length, the girth that keeps your walls sweetly captive, or his voice but it was all so appetizing. so . . flavorsome.

he couldn’t help but slow down his hips a bit. with a single hand, he reaches down to pull his leaky dick out right before he came. he shot into you already—dozens of times actually, but he felt like being a tease again.

“ugh,” he groans, feeling his base swollen itself up. as you finish on your own, your body transmitting into a shockwave of a wave of rapturing rhapsody he mimics you before a stringy amount of ropes splat right onto your folds. it’s so much, so viscous and goopy that paints the entrance of your cunt to where it’s as if your pussy was a mere canvas for him. “look at thaaaat,” and as he licks his lips, you’re shaking right underneath him. gojo leans in to kiss you and that’s when the bed suddenly jitters. it’s rumbling but he ignores it— bringing you into the nth kiss for the night. “atta girl.” he whispers between kisses.

as you’re leaning into his touch, your anklet erotically rubs down the muscles of his back in such a sensual way. with tongues tangling together in corresponding harmony, the expensive wood on the headboard suddenly breaks. it’s a ear-splitting noise, an almost creak. noticing the noise, you break away from his lips before sheepishly muttering.

“did the bed just . . break?”

“perhaps,” gojo whispers, but he was totally unfazed. you had him pussy whipped, he didn’t even look tired.

pretty cerulean irises gaze into your all—so pretty that it almost could be mistaken for a solid pigment of green. a jade loving kind of green that you only see in jewels. his intense, needy stare longs into you for a few more seconds before he makes you flip over. you gasp, still feeling his cum ooze out of you from the inside. it was so feverishly warm, sweltering hot with bulks of his sticky seed. all that and you just wanted more, you didn’t care how greedy or needy you came across.

snickering, gojo picks up the money that’s scattered everywhere on the bed only to put them right back on your back where it belongs—

he then sticks a single fifty dollar bill between your lazily stuck-to-the-side panties before letting off a dry laugh.

“let’s not worry about that though. let’s worry ‘bout how ‘m gonna try ‘ta get you pregnant, tonight sweetheart. nowww, let’s practice that arch again one more time, my love. bend over just for me, yeah. atta fuckin’ girl.”

8K notes · View notes

agxxb · 3 months ago

Text

Prettier Than a Star .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: when rafe finds you alone, you finally get to know one another.

warnings: smut. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (f!receiving). use of pet names (baby, sweetheart). praise. underage drinking. best friend’s brother. [5k]

read part two here!

“You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s off-limits to guests.” You turned around in surprise upon hearing a new voice, only relaxing after seeing the familiar face. “Ah, it’s just you.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side, surprised to see you standing on one of Tanneyhill’s many balconies — but it was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t smile, but his expression softened just a little.

“Sorry, Rafe,” you apologised, a small yet sheepish smile on your face. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you, let alone your friend’s older brother. You just wanted peace and quiet away from the jamboree happening below.

Rafe walked over with a hand in his jeans’ pocket, the other holding a beer. He turned and leaned against the rails beside you. “Didn’t expect to see you at my party.”

“Sarah invited me,” you explained, a short shrug following as you took a deep breath through your nose. “She kinda left me alone as soon as she saw her boyfriend, and I got overwhelmed with the party. This was the only place I knew no one would be.”

Rafe chuckled lightly. “Sounds like Sarah.” He shook his head. He couldn’t lie and say he was surprised Sarah had ditched you. “What? Can’t handle a little party?” he asked, clearly teasing you.

“I can.” You shot him a look, but still grinned. “Just not when people I don’t know are shoving unknown drinks into my face.”

He smirked, taking a quick swig of beer from the bottle. “Hey, those are the best kind of drinks. Free alcohol is good alcohol.” He glanced over at you as he spoke. “You should’ve just come found me when Sarah ditched you.”

“Free drinks are the best, but not when there’s a possibility of them being spiked,” You gave him another small smile before shrugging. “And, in all honesty, I didn’t even think you liked me enough to talk to me. You’ve only ever spoken to me when Sarah’s been there.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered, and his expression softened ever-so-slightly. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side again, looking at you. “You’re one of the few people that Sarah hangs out with that I don’t want to throw into a wall the moment I see them,” he added, giving a scoff of a laugh.

You smiled at Rafe’s words, letting out a short chuckle. He kept his gaze on you for a moment more, something almost thoughtful crossing his face before he looked out to the front grounds of the house.

The night sky was vast, the stars glimmering above. The sea breeze was cool and fresh against your skin, and the sounds from the party down below were just low enough to be a distant rumble. It was nice and peaceful.

“I’ve always adored the island,” you said after a short while of silence, following his eye-line to admire the view: the sea in the far back, the beautiful sunset just above the sea line, and the houses in the close distance.

Rafe looked away from the view, to you, listening to you. He’d never really paid much attention to how beautiful the island really was. The night was nice, though; even he could admit that. He thought about making a snide comment about the view – that it’d be prettier with a joint or drug to enhance it – but didn’t. Instead, he just nodded.

“It is nice,” he agreed, taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

He turned to lean against the railing once more, his side now facing you. He raised the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back as he took a healthy sip, enjoying the taste of it. It went quiet again, and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He watched as you kept your gaze on the sky, and you looked almost mesmerised.

It was almost like you were in a trance, the way you just watched the stars above. The sight was honestly rather fascinating to Rafe; He’d never seen anyone just stare into space. He continued to watch you though, and found himself almost studying how captivated you were by the stars, like there was some sort of peace in that moment.

“You like the stars?” Rafe heard himself ask, his voice low and casual as he looked upwards as well.

“Oh, I adore them…” Your eyes twinkled whilst the stars blinked. You smiled, a small one, but it was filled with admiration and fascination.

Rafe listened intently, watching as the soft smile appeared on your face, and he found himself feeling a sense of curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s all unknown. It’s scary, but also so cool.”

Rafe hummed lowly, and he found he actually agreed a bit with what you said. The stars and sky were definitely a little scary, but the unknown always was. And yet, it was interesting, too.

He went silent for a few moments, the alcohol in his system making him more relaxed and a bit less guarded. He felt more open, like he could say things he wouldn’t normally say, and that was why he spoke again after a moment of silence. “Want some?”

You looked over at Rafe, seeing him tilting his beer in your direction. You accepted his offer with a smile, taking the glass bottle from his hold and bringing it up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around the top and tilting your head back.

Rafe watched your actions, licking his lips as his thoughts spiralled. He found his eyes trailing over your face, lingering on your eyes, and then your lips, which looked soft and full. The alcohol he had consumed had made his thoughts fuzzy, and he suddenly found himself imagining something else instead of the beer bottle.

The thoughts of how you looked and the soft tone of your voice made his mind wander, imagining what sounds you might make in other situations.

"What’re you doing?" you teased, biting your bottom lip and moving slightly closer to Rafe. You had noticed him staring, scanning your body and – possibly –admiring you.

Rafe knew he had been caught looking at you, and he didn't even know what to say when you moved closer. He tried to keep his composure, though he found his eyes straying once more as he noticed a glimpse of your collarbone.

"I'm enjoying the view.”

"Yeah?" You lightly blushed, cheeks turning a pink champagne, and smiled up at him. "Enjoying it, hm?"

Rafe was captivated as you smiled at him, and his breath hitched as he watched you take another sip of his beer. It was more than a little attractive, and he found his thoughts getting muddled again, his mind wandering to places it had no business going.

"Yeah," he answered simply, his voice coming out deep and rough as he shrugged.

He tried to look away, but he found himself looking at you again, eyes drifting from your collarbone and over the swell of your chest. He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but he couldn't help it. He found himself admiring you, the soft curves and slopes of your body, the shape of your hips. Even though you were still standing a few inches apart, he was suddenly aware of how close you were, and he wanted you to be closer.

“Just admiring?” you wondered aloud, almost hinting at the fact you wanted him to do more.

Rafe briefly wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched you, to feel his hands on your skin. It would probably be so soft, he bet. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, and it was like an invitation to him.

His eyes flicked back up to your lips when you bit your bottom one, and he found himself wondering what they would feel like against his own. He took a step forward, his boots thudding against the balcony floor, and reached out, his fingers hovering a few inches away from your skin, the tips of his fingers just barely touching your cheek.

Rafe slowly lowered his hand until it connected, gently resting his palm against the soft skin of your cheek. He gently caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath his fingers as he stroked your cheek. He felt emboldened, and the alcohol in his system made him a more reckless.

“Your hand's warm," you told him, resting your cheek into his palm. You were aware of Rafe's history and his anger issues, but you weren’t scared of him... especially after the way he'd treated you that night. Rafe hummed in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the way his heart flipped at how you leaned into his touch.

He wanted this, wanted to touch you, and he wanted more than that, too... so much more.

"You're soft," Rafe mumbled, his voice rougher than usual, and he let his thumb gently brush against your jawline.

"I am?" you asked, almost shy after hearing him say you were soft. He hummed in response once again, unable to stop himself from gently rubbing his thumb along your skin, slowly, over and over again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice still sounding rough, and his thumb started to travel down the slope of your neck. "Soft everywhere."

“You haven’t even touched me everywhere.”

Rafe’s eyes snapped up to yours, trying to see if there were any hints of intoxication behind your words. He let his fingers press gently against the underside of your chin, just barely lifting it.

"You like when I touch you?" he asked quietly, the words just slipping from his mouth. You hummed a response, agreeing to his question silently, and a rush of heat flowed through him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The way you almost begged for a kiss made his lips twitch up. His hand slowly moved to the back of your neck as he gently pulled you forward, tilting your chin up. He looked into your eyes as his face hovered close to yours, wanting to make sure you really wanted this. His breath fanned over your face, and he slowly closed the remaining gap to press his lips against yours.

Rafe let himself just hold his lips against yours for a second, just the briefest moment, before he really kissed you. His lips moved against yours, molding themselves to your mouth in a shockingly gentle action.

You moaned softly as your lips moved together, never wanting to stop kissing now you had tasted him. Your hands lifted, placing the beer bottle on the balcony to your right before you touched him: one hand on his torso and the other on the back of his neck, fingers gently scratching at the nape.

At the sound of your soft moan, something inside Rafe snapped. He felt your hands on his skin, the feeling of your fingers scraping against his neck just made him want more, and so he took more by pressing his lips harder against yours.

Rafe quickly wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, and he let his tongue gently slide across your bottom lip. His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, filled with just need and want and you. He was vaguely aware of the party going on below, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Rafe groaned and pressed even closer against you, pinning you up against the railing. He let his tongue explore your mouth, tasting you before he raised a hand to your throat once again, tilting your head to the side and away from his. He started gently nibbling and sucking on the skin there, letting his lips travel down over your pulse.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly, closing your eyes as you basked in the pleasure gained from him kissing your neck. “Rafe…”

He felt a rush of satisfaction at the way you gasped his name, the sound going straight to his already-hardening cock. His lips continued to move along the skin on your neck, sucking and then biting down gently, trying to get more of those sweet sounds out of you.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” Rafe muttered in a deep grumble against your skin as his free hand started to slowly lift up the edge of your shirt.

He felt another rush of heat flow through him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, at the breathy sound you made in reply to his praise. He let his fingers slide across the newly-exposed skin of your hip, his warm touch sending shivers through you.

“You gonna let me take you to my room?” he asked huskily, pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes again.

“Is that what you want?” you asked him with a soft grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. You tilted his head to the side, littering kissing up and down the column of his neck.

Rafe groaned as he gave you more access to his neck, pressing lower-half against you, and his fingers dug into your hips. He was already so hard, just from the way you sounded and the feel of your lips. He felt like his brain was completely clouded over now, and he couldn’t think of anything except you.

You hummed, lightly nipping at his neck and smiling softly as you heard Rafe let out a sound, like a moan had been caught in his throat. You pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark and soothing over it with your tongue.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Rafe groaned again, the feeling of your tongue making him shiver. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to force himself to think clearly, but all he could really think about was your mouth on his skin.

Feeling how hard he was against your lower stomach, you pulled back to bite your lower lip. “You wanna take me into your room, Rafe? Wanna have your way and do whatever you want to me? Make me feel good?”

The teasing tone of your voice had his lust-filled brain short-circuiting. He felt your hand press against his hard length and he gritted his teeth, your hand moving up to slide over his abs, feeling his muscles tense.

“You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to make it to my room,” his voice was low and gravelly as he spoke.

“Yeah, pretty boy?”

He grunted as he felt an unexpected rush of heat at the nickname, and length twitched against your stomach. “Keep it up, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“What if that’s what I want?” you whispered into his ear, leaving another peck against his cheek.

Rafe quickly turned his face to capture your lips with his own, the kiss anything but slow or gentle. He tried to pour all of his need into it, pushing his tongue into your mouth and hungrily tasting you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin, and he began to move his mouth down over your jaw.

“Take me inside, Rafe. Please.”

He heard the hint of a moan in your voice, and the way you said his name, begging him to take you inside, was almost his undoing. He needed to get you alone, behind a locked door. Now.

Rafe pulled back, looking at you, his eyes dilated and filled with so much lust that it was like he’d completely lost himself in the need for you. “Come with me,” he said, voice raw, and he stepped away, just enough to grab your hand.

He wasted no time in pulling you along with him, hurrying through the balcony doors into the house, barely giving you a second to shut the door behind you before he was pulling you down a hallway and toward his room at the end. Rafe quickly opened his door and pulled you inside, shutting it behind you and locking it.

He pushed you up against the door, trapping you with his body. “Please fuck me,” you begged with a moan, fisting at the fabric of his button-up shirt.

The sound of your soft, pleading moan and your words made his head spin. At that exact moment, he was done trying to control himself. He felt his brain shut down, any higher thought completely gone, and he suddenly all he cared about was getting his hands on you.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, before his hands almost immediately went to the shirt you were wearing. “Too many clothes,” he whispered thickly, his voice barely more than a rough grumble.

The moment he could see your skin, Rafe’s hands were on you again, touching you, feeling you. He couldn’t help but notice the little shivers you were making when he did. He brought his lips down to your neck once again, leaving more hot, wet kisses. His tongue traced the hollow of your jaw as his hands outlined your body, his touch rougher and greedier with each passing second.

Rafe let his lips move lower, down your neck and over your chest, sucking and kissing, his teeth gently scraping against your skin as he went. He stopped just above the line of your bra, taking it off before looking at you. You looked gorgeous: hair all tousled, marks already forming all over your skin, and breathing heavy.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Rafe muttered almost gruffly, his eyes travelling over your face and down your body.

“Only for you, pretty boy,” you bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over his buzzed head as he knelt down in front of you, his hands on your hips.

He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers. He felt himself almost entranced by you, your sounds, words, and touch making it so that he didn’t care about anything other than you.

He continued his journey down your body, his lips on your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses and bites on your skin. His hands started to wander too, touching and exploring, sliding over your legs and moving up the inside of your thighs.

He looked up at you, watching your face as did so, the urge to mark you as his so primal and strong. He continued to kiss the tops of your thighs, leaving another mark behind before slowly making his way up again, closer and closer to the edge of your underwear.

“Fuck… Please.”

“Please what, Sweetheart?” He let his hands slide up your sides to your lower back, hooking his fingers on the edge of your underwear. He started to pull them down, his eyes still looking at you for your reaction. “C’mon… talk to me.”

“Please touch me.” Tears began to form in your’ eyes, but not from upset or pain; you were so turned on and impatient — you needed Rafe to touch you. “I’m so wet for you. Please.”

His own breathing was ragged now, his eyes dilated to the point the blue of them was almost completely gone, only a ring around the edge of his pupils visible. The way you sounded, so desperate and needy, almost had him fucking you against the door.

He brought his head closer to where you needed him, his lips hovering by the skin there for a moment. “How bad do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“So fucking bad, Rafe. Please,” you begged, running a hand over his short hair again. “Please.”

He leaned so that his cheek was resting on your hip, and he let out a low exhale, his breath warm and hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, and then his lips were on your skin again, leaving kisses down your hip, towards your center.

It was like he’d suddenly lost all self-control, his need to touch you, to taste you, was so strong that it was pushing him past that edge of self-restraint. He pressed his lips against your core from over your lace panties, his tongue immediately tasting you through the fabric, and he let out a low moan.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He spoke directly against you, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, before slowly hooking his fingers under the lace of your underwear and pulling them down, needing to get them off you so that he could taste you properly.

Rafe’s hands were suddenly firm on your hip as he pushed your legs apart, keeping you open for him to put his mouth on you, his tongue licking and exploring. He was relentless, actions desperate. He felt the way you trembled under his touch, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back for very long, not if he kept hearing those little sounds you were making.

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in pleasure and head titling back against his bedroom door. “Fuck! Feels so good, oh my god!”

Rafe loved the way you sounded, the way you reacted to him as he continued to suck on and lick at your clit. But he needed more. He pressed his hands against your hips as he continued with his attention, his tongue more demanding now. He was addicted to the taste of you, not wanting to ever touch another woman nor that he’s had you.

He continued his actions on your clit, finding what made you shiver and moan, what made you melt. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the sounds you made as he worked you with his mouth, pushing you higher and higher.

Rafe suddenly shifted, his tongue switching to a different angle. He could feel you shaking, getting closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, his hands having moved to your thighs, keeping your legs open as he pressed himself closer, his tongue never slowing down, never stopping.

“Fuck!” you sobbed, the pleasure almost too much but so fucking good. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Feels so fucking good.”

Rafe couldn’t possibly stop now, not when you sounded like that, not when you were so close. He could feel how your body was tightening, almost trembling as you got closer. He was so caught up in your sounds, in your taste. He kept his movements at the same speed, not wanting to change anything, and then you were there, falling over the edge. Your legs shook as you came, crying out his name as he lapped you up greedily, still wanting more after tasting you.

Only when you were starting to come down did he stop. Rafe slowly stood up, his mouth still wet and glistening, and looked at you, at the way you were leaning against the door and trying to get your breath back.

You immediately leaned forward to kiss Rafe, your lips meeting his instantly. He felt you melt against his body, and his arms encircled your waist, kissing you almost desperately, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him.

Rafe grabbed the back of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist, picking you up and moving you over to his bed, lightly dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you. He loomed over you on the bed, his hands on either side of you. He could feel how you were looking at him, your eyes raking over his bare chest and the bulge in his pants, almost like you couldn't decide where to look first. It was driving him crazy. He felt like his skin was on fire, and he needed you to touch him, wanted to feel your hands on him.

“Please fuck me,” you quietly begged, looking up at him through your lashes. He leaned back, hands moving to his belt as he unbuckled it before sliding it through the loops of his jeans, taking them and his underwear off next.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, raising an eyebrow. “You want that?” He looked down at you hungrily, his eyes taking in the way you looked beneath him. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head, trapping you beneath him. “You gonna be good for me if I give you that?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, silently pleading, begging, Rafe. You were soaked, and not just from when he ate you out moments prior. There was something about hearing him say those words, something about the way his voice sounded, so sweet and dominating, that made pleasure burn through you, making you want him even more.

He gently, almost reverently, released your wrists, his hands roaming over your body instead. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough. “That’s my good girl.”

Your hands lifted to rest on his bare back as Rafe smirked, reaching down and lining himself up before pushing forward into your sopping wet pussy. Your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure, having him fill you to the brim.

"Oh, my god…” Rafe was hypnotised, his fingers grabbing at your hips. He could barely think, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glazed over.

The feeling of you beneath him, around him, was so intense he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. He felt like he was on fire, his body tense, his muscles coiled tight as he held himself above you. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, this intense, this desperate. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he started to move, his hips rocking against yours, eyes locked on your face.

He could feel your hands on his back, your nails clawing at his skin, and it only turned him on more. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe asked, voice strained with how good you felt.

“S-So good,” you nodded, tears building up in your eyes once again from the pleasure. “So deep.”

“Fuck,” Rafe moaned deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Your lips parted as his hips slapped against the backs of your thighs. It left you feeling dumb, no thoughts left in your head apart from how pretty Rafe looked above you. “Pussy’s so good.

“Please, please, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look up at him. His own lips parted as he reached his hands up, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he stared as your tits in awe. “Just like that — keep fucking me like that.”

Rafe could feel every little gasp, every moan, every whimper you made, and it was driving him crazy. You were making him feel things he didn’t know he could feel, and he was lost in you. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, could feel himself losing control, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.

He suddenly leaned down, his face just inches away from yours, and pressed his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy, his breath mingling with yours, his heart racing. He was hanging on by a thread, fighting the urge to let go, but he wanted to see you fall apart for him first.

Rafe suddenly slid his hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit and quickly rubbing it. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his back and leaving red marks in their wake.

“F-fuck!” you cried, the pleasure consuming you. Rafe sped up, going harder and rougher, his own hand coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a little pressure — just the way you liked it. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it changed as he touched you, the way it got higher and more desperate as you got closer to the edge.

He couldn’t hold back a low moan of his own, keeping his hand on your neck as he sent harsh thrusts up into you, your pussy squelching with each one.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Let me hear how good you feel.” He suddenly grabbed your hip, using it as leverage as he started to move rougher, his body tensing up. He was so close, so close to losing control, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. He suddenly leaned down again, his mouth right next to your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Cum for me, baby.”

“O-Oh, my God!” you moaned loudly, barely able to say anything other than that and his name.

He knew you were close, could feel it in your body, and he felt his own body tense up in response. ”That’s it, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

“Rafe!” you screamed his name as you came, legs shaking around his waist with your head thrown back against his bed. He felt you tighten around him, felt your nails digging into his skin, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Gonna cum so fuckin' deep in you,” Rafe mumbled, letting go of your neck and running purely on primal instincts now. “Gonna take it all like my good girl, yeah?”

“Uh huh," you whined, tits bouncing as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you. “Please cum in me!”

“Prettier than any fucking star.” Rafe grabbed ahold of your hips, grinding his hips deep into yours a few more times, before coming to a stop. He came hard, his body tensing up as he buried his face into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

You felt full as his cum filled you up, letting out a hum of content. Rafe couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there, his body weighing you down, face pressed into your neck. He was breathing heavily, his body still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, this wrecked, this satisfied.

He suddenly lifted his head up, eyes locking on yours immediately, his face flushed. “You… are amazing.”

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readwritealldayallnight · 3 months ago

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im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

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aajjks · 10 months ago

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tw/ hórny èx bf, hè ís à crèèp, nôncôn, èxplïcït ând nsfw thèmès.

It’s hard to break up with someone like him because he doesn’t get the hint- it’s been barely 6 days and he finds himself right in front of your door.

Really horny. And quite frankly messed up.

He bangs on your door- at first he’s gentle, but then he finds himself losing his patience when you don’t open up after a few bangs at your door, even with the bell It’s not working.

He just might have to be a little bit more aggressive with it. See now, he doesn’t like being aggressive with you. He knows that you hate this side of him. That’s why you broke up with him in the first place.

It’s not really a break up to him though because you’re just trying to break and he thinks that this break has lasted way longer than it should have in the first place. So he takes deep breath, and he starts banging at it like a maniac.

“Yn! YN OPEN UP!” But you don’t. You’re really trying to test his patience and then you try to lecture him on his aggressive nature.

His pupils are dilated at this point, he’s feeling so crazy right now, it’s aching and his pants, and he has missed you like crazy-staring at your pictures is not enough anymore. Not at all.

It’s your fault, you know.

It’s your fault that you’re so beautiful and that you have his heart in your hands… he closes his eyes for a moment, and then he takes out the spare keys he had to your apartment-of course, you don’t know about them, but he had a locksmith make them for him.

Without any rational thinking- he unlocks your apartment with ease.

And soon the familiar scent of your home hits him and your ex boyfriend finds himself relaxing, his head feels a little better now. “Yn!~~~” he calls out your name with affection but you still don’t respond.

Weird.

So he decides to check if you’re home. He really hopes that you are because he needs to talk to you and… a lot of other other things.

First to fall of course it’s gonna be your bedroom, his feet, take him to the familiar room so easily, because he remembers every single room in your home, like the back of his hand.

And to his surprise? He hears the shower running. A Cheshire Cat smile spreads across his lips. But before he can think anything else, the shower drops sounds come to a halt.

Oh, so you must be done..

He waits- by sitting on your bed and waiting for you to come out, and he doesn’t have to wait long, so he unzips his pants, creepy? He doesn’t give a fuck.

He needs to fuck you and get you back. He has everything you ever want. Quite frankly, you can be ungrateful. Anyone would kill to be in your place… but too bad he wants you.

And there you are, in all your wet glory-with a towel loosely wrapped around your body, you gasp, expected, in surprised to see him, he smirks.

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to scream at him, he doesn’t mind you can because he’s missed your voice a lot.

“Hi baby.” He greets you. Licking his lips, because he feels himself getting harder when he stares at your soaked, freshly washed body.

You look so sexy like this I can’t help but remember all the times he would fuck you senselessly in the shower or sometimes when you were done with it.

You’re just so irresistible. You get him so horny for no reason at all. It’s your fault and now you’re going to have to help him out.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You finally say something to him, even though you’re screaming at him like a maniac, he doesn’t mind.

“I can’t help it baby you know I love you and I can’t live without you-and I’m so horny right now.” He licks his lips again, getting up from your bed to walk towards you.

He needs to touch you right now.

“I told you you couldn’t break up with me but you thought you could.. so I just wanted to give you a little break, but I think it has lasted enough now I need you back.” He groans. You smell so good even his muscles are pulsing.

His eyes are you like a predator and You should know that you cannot escape.

He is way too strong for you.

“Come on now- look at me? I’m so fucking hard because I was thinking about you- and look at you.. fuck…” he breathes out, taking you by your waist.. but then he gets another idea.

So instead of holding you, he drops to his knees.

This is gonna get you so weak for him.

“Let me eat your pussy. Missed it so much.” He looks into your eyes when he grabs your legs. You barely manage to hold onto your towel, which was about to fall. And something switches in your eyes.

You have missed him too.

He smiles. “I bet you missed me too. Fuck- baby let me have a taste please- I’m doing this to make it up to you. I know I pissed you off, so let me make it up.” He breathes, slowly, removing the towel and he starts to tease you by rubbing his hands over to your clit.

You whimper, you’ve always been so weak for him.

He knows you need him-equally as bad as he needs you. And he’s going to make you realize it tonight. He leans his face closer to your cunt, and you grab his wide shoulders for support.

“Oh look at you baby- you’ve already started to get wet.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your thigh, and then his kisses get closer to your heat, “f-fuck. You’re so fucking bad for this.” You moan out. He knows that you’re trying to reject him still even though he knows what your heart and body really want.

Him.

“I know yn.. but fuck- you’re my bad habit.” He replies before he takes one of his fingers out of your pussy and he smashes his mouth into it- his tongue starting to eat you out.

“Nghhh fuck.” You moan as he starts to tease you again with his teeth- he’s so messy right now, all sloppy as he pushes his tongue in deeper and deeper.

That’s how you like it.

His mind is in a frenzy because the noises you’re making are purely sinful- your towel gals to the ground and your back arches.

He won’t let you fall.

He will make you cum in his tongue.

“Ugh fuck..” he groans as he eagerly laps at your juices, you’re giving him so much.

And he knows you’re already going to cum.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.” You command him and grab on his locks- that arouses him anymore- you taste so fuckin good.

He can kill anyone for you.

“O-Oh fuck- baby cum on my tongue- you can do it.” He praises you- his hands on your ass as he squeezes it, you pull on his hair.

His teeth graze your clit.

“Should I fuckin bite? Since you’re so *pants* fuckin mean to me? Nah.. I love you..” he barely manages to speak because you’re suffocating him and you’re going to cum.

“You can *pants* only cum if you come back to *pants* m-me.”

BNHA- hawks, aizawa, bakugo, deku

JJK- gojo, geto, toji, sukuna

7K notes · View notes

mossangelll · 2 months ago

Note

So hear me out….pregnant reader with Sevika’s kid. Sevika doting on reader. Bring home a weird craving reader has been having and talking to the baby telling them how excited she is to finally meet them.

I need fluff, I need pregnancy, I need it to be hers naturally.

Thank yooooooooou!

this is so cute i loved writing it! i just know sevika would be a great parent ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

sevika x pregnant reader headcanons

cw: pregnancy, slight innuendos, mentions of violence, veryyyy slight angst at the start

sevika never saw herself being a parent; not because she doesn’t like kids, it’s the complete opposite - she adores them

she felt it was selfish to want to bring a child into a fucked up world like zaun, full of hardship and uncertain futures

but then one night you tearfully turn to sevika in bed and her mind immediately goes into overdrive, are you hurt? is someone threatening you?

“sevika…i’m pregnant.”

you’re both sent into a still silence, unable to see each other but somehow feeling each other’s shock that much more

you’re worried that she’s upset or even mad at you, you know how she feels about having kids, until she’s gripping onto you with all her might, body shuddering from the force of her tears

sevika spoons you to sleep but she can’t fall asleep since her mind is racing about what this means for the future

she is overjoyed to say the least, albeit worried

from that moment on she dotes on you even more than she ever did, saying she needs to “look after my two favourite people.”

she rarely enjoyed pda but now you’re pregnant with her child, she can’t keep her hands off you - she needs to let everyone know that she’s completely smitten with you and the baby

sevika is constantly rubbing her hands on your baby bump wherever you go - just the sight of you and the baby calms her down

however she’ll only talk to the baby when you’re at home all safe and sound because this is when she admits her innermost fears

you stroke her soft hair as she whispers to the bump about how she’s scared she won’t be able to protect you both; after all, sevika works for the biggest crime lord in zaun and a child only provides more ammunition for enemies to utilise

sevika is also concerned about not being a good enough parent to the child but when you look at her building a crib from scratch, concentration furrowing her dark brows, with buckets of paint surrounding her from all the swatches you requested, you know that her worries couldn’t be further from the truth

every morning and every night, without fail, she kisses your forehead and baby bump as she rambles to you both about how excited she is for the completion of your little family

she dotes on you so much!

if you have a weird craving like pickle juice with sparkling water she’s forcing chuck to drop all his orders and make yours stat

if you’re craving some obscure dish that really shouldn’t exist sevika isn’t even going to question it

she’s in the kitchen whipping it up for you as you’re sat on the counter, humming as she prepares your meal

she does that thing where she puts the plate just in your reach but yanks it back again, laughing at how petulant you get

“what, you’re not gonna kiss the chef first?”

she gives it to you eventually, she could never make you wait for too long, and watches on with a goofy little smile and your lipstick marks all over her face as you contentedly eat the downright atrocious meal she made with love

sevika is always with you; call her overprotective or clingy she doesn’t care, she just doesn’t want to risk anybody hurting you or the baby

you basically get scary dog privileges everywhere you go

if your pregnancy hormones say the annoying store clerk that spoke to you in a condescending tone needs to die then sevika is on it right away

ok not really, she talks you down from your moments of bloodlust but she will deal with anyone that is rude to you

“you think i’m gonna let you get away with being an asshole to my dove, huh?”

lowkey shocked (and equal parts turned on) at how cranky your raging hormones make you 😭

sevika is incredibly attracted to you and your changing body even though you get insecure that she won’t like you anymore because of it

she takes her precious time every day just kissing the new stretch marks that appear and massaging your swollen ankles

you spend your date nights talking about baby names and you two even draw what you think the baby will look like

her drawing mainly consists of your features

your drawing mainly consists of her features

you two are so down bad for each other it’s sickening

silco has to force sevika to take more time off; she’s loyal and deserves to have more downtime with you as you prepare for your baby

he understands what it’s like to have a kid, how stressful it can be so he wants his dearest friend to enjoy the moment as much as possible

speaking of silco, he helps sevika host a surprise baby shower at the last drop and an insane amount of people turn up

you cry when you realise how loved and respected you are in the community

everyone is having the time of their lives playing games like blind diaper changing, who knows mum/dad the best, guess the baby, etc.

no gender reveal though she’s traditional in that regard and wants to wait until the baby’s born to find out

jinx is also very excited about the new arrival in the family

yes, she considers you and sevika to be part of her family and it’s very cute

she gets to be an auntie!

jinx spends all her free time making all sorts of toys out of softer materials because she’s considerate (also sevika warned her not to use scrap metal, or implement sharp edges, or even add teeny tiny smoke bombs - jinx scrapped all of her designs and had to start from scratch), for your baby with her signature graffiti of course

her and sevika probably work together to make some of the furniture for the baby’s room

sevika is very proud when people ask to feel bump

“yeah, this is our kid.” smug grin plastered onto her face and a strong arm wrapped around your midsection

you can’t help but roll your eyes when she does this because at this point who doesn’t know it’s your kid - she spends all day talking about it 😭

all in all sevika is honestly the best mother and wife you could ask for <3

masterlist

#sevika x reader #sevika #arcane #arcane headcanon #sevika fluff #fluff #jinx #silco #pregnant reader #sevika headcanon #request #arcane request #arcane fluff

1K notes · View notes

sooniebby · 8 months ago

Text

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

W.C › 6.4k

Warning › bottom male reader. Reader has a cock and is mentioned to have slept with girls and boys. No set character, this is an OC, but you can imagine anyone

Plot › basically just this idea I had but expanded

Kinks › manhandling, accidental creampie, cross dressing, lite feminization, mirror sex, hint of dom/sub relation

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

To say you were a playboy was an understatement. New girl every week was you being nice. Now, as a senior, you didn’t care as much anymore.

Which led you to your current predicament.

You’d practically ran through the entire school by now and you were… bored.

The first years didn’t interest you. And you’d already gone through the pretty people in third and second year. It was looking like you’d have to start branching out to schools nearby.

A sigh left you as you plopped down at your seat, flicking at a lint of dust on your desk. It was lunch time and you weren’t feeling hungry. Well you were hungry for sex but not for food.

“Man, (L.Name), view this as a good thing! It’s lucky you haven’t gotten an STD by now.” Your friend, Ryun, said as he ate from his bento box. You only gave him a huff.

“I use condoms. They work, 99.9%!”

“Sure. I’m surprised none of the girls have gotten pregnant yet.”

Ryun let out a howl as you kicked his knee underneath the desk. “I fuck guys too! You should be wondering if I’m pregnant.”

“Wha—(L.Name), you can’t get pregnant.”

You shrugged. “You never know.”

“Are you insane?”

“Should you really be asking the resident slut that?” A voice cut in. Your eyebrows rose as you turned to see who was so bold to call you that only to see it was another one of your friends.

“Sana…! That’s so mean! I’m not a slut.” You whined as she plopped down at the desk beside you. She only gave you a knowing look before digging into her own bento.

“Ryun!” You looked straight at him. “Am I a slut?”

“Do you really want me to answer that…?”

“GAH!! Ryun~~~!” You whined, pouting heavily as you rubbed at your face in annoyance. The two ignored your childish behavior as you finally began to start eating your bento. It was a comfortable silence for a moment before a ding popped in your head.

“Oh no…” Ryun muttered, knowing that look in your eyes.

You leaned in close, grinning. “Guys.. This senior year, I should go for someone special!”

Sana sighed. “Who? Who haven’t you fucked by now?”

A teasing grin pulled on your lips as you motioned for them to come closer. As they pulled in, you looked around to make sure no one was ease dropping and giggled in excitement.

“Ito Yuki.”

A pin could be heard as Ryun and Sana stared at you for a moment. Their faces slowly contorting into something of pure disgust and disappointment.

“Him?! Student Council president, Ito Yuki?!” Sana whispered yelled.

“Mhm. I’ve never even noticed him before until now! You should’ve seen him. He still has those ugly glasses but he’s buffed up! What’s he training for?” You joked, laughing loudly in the quiet classroom.

Ryun groaned. “No way. Ito doesn’t date. Ever since he got ‘buff’ he has had girls tripping for him. But he’s turned them down! Every last one of them.”

Sana nodded in agreement. “Yeah. No way he’d get with you—especially with your reputation of dumping people after a week!”

“But that’s a good thing!” You cried. “If he’s never dated before, that means he’s a virgin!! Inexperienced!! Those are the best, especially in boys!”

“Gross, (L.Name).” The two said in unison.

You pouted. “Aah! You guys don’t understand!”

“I’d rather not,” Ryun countered.

“You’re just really perverted, (L.Name). And so weird. You won’t even let us call you by your first name.” Sana said, rolling her eyes.

“But he has no problem letting someone see his flat ass.” Ryun chuckled.

“My ass is not flat!” You gasped. “I’ll prove it—”

“—NO!!!”

You sat back down with a huff. Yeah, you were weird. Sana and Ryun, your friends since diapers didn’t use your first name. Only your mother and father did but you didn’t even like them saying it either. For some reason, it just sounds.. off hearing it from people.

There didn’t seem to be a real reason. You just didn’t like it. Though you’ve been hoping that one day someone would say your first name and you wouldn’t immediately grimace.

Oh well. You had more pressing matters.

And that was Student Council President Ito Yuki.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“How are you going to ask him out?” Ryun asked, pulling out his bento. It’s been a week since your declaration to take Ito Yuki’s virginity but you haven’t really done anything. Mainly because he’s always doing student council president shit. Always so busy.

“Like how I ask everyone out.” You said, popping a grape into your mouth.

“Serious?” Sana gasped. “That unromantic shit you do? Gosh, people here have such low standards. I hope he rejects you.”

You gave her a tight glare and threw a grape at her, grinning when it hit her right on her nose. You weren’t unromantic so to say. But… your proposals left much to desire. You had a a short and sweet line.

“Hey, you’re hot. Wanna make out?”

You thought it was romantic but Sana believed the students here just didn’t have enough self respect. Both were probably true.

“Why would anyone reject this?” You sensually pull down your blazer to show off your collarbone and give Sana a flirty lip bite. She gagged immediately.

Ryun hummed. “I can think of many reasons why someone would reject you.”

“Ack! You two suck! Where’s the motivation?! ‘Ah, (L.Name), you’re so hot!! Who would ever say no to you?!’ Like huh??”

“You don’t need anymore compliments. Your head is about damn near jelly from your narcissism.” Ryun said.

You rolled your eyes. Tough crowd. The three of you continued on with lunch when there was a sudden shrill voice. You looked at Sana and Ryun before moving to the sliding door of the classroom, sliding it open and looking out the hallway.

And there he was.

Student Council President Ito Yuki.

A soft mop of jet black hair with over grown bangs. Mono lid eyes that resembled a fox eye. A beauty mark right underneath his right eye. Plump lips. Cheekbones. He still had those stupid circular glasses. His body, though. His body was insane. He wasn’t crazy buff but he certainly put on weight compared to his stick thin body from first year. He practically had boobs (pecs) now!

He was taller too. Maybe 182 cm…?

A group of girls followed behind him, all holding letters that they waved to try and give to him. Huh, was today? Fuck, it was Valentine’s Day!!

You cursed as you watched Ito Yuki continue to walk and ignore the girls, passively pushing away any one that got too close. You didn’t have shit to give him.

Also it wasn’t White Day so it would’ve been weird if you did… but boys can do Valentine’s Day too..? Right?

Ah, fuck it.

“(L.Name)?!” Ryun whispered as you stepped out into the hallway, right as Ito Yuki come close to passing your classroom.

“What are you doing??” Sana yelled, covering her mouth when a few students looked at her in surprise.

You squared your shoulders and stood up tall, only now noticing you only came up to his chest. Ah, you were a perfect height to suck on his—

Not now, (L.Name)!

Even in your thoughts you didn’t even use your first name. You let out a sigh and gave Ito Yuki your signature flirty smirk. Your eyes peering up at him, giving yourself a cute look. You had multiple ways of flirting, especially when it came to boys or girls.

A true bisexual playboy!

“Ito-San.” You said, blinking slightly to flutter your eyelashes. Ito seemed to be focusing on something else in his mind despite his eyes on you. Well you can’t have that.

You leaned in closer, resting your hand on his arm. You felt him visibly twitch at your touch, earning a slight grin on your lips. Too easy. There was whispering happening around you but you didn’t care. You’ve asked out people in public spaces loads of times.

This… was a piece of a cake.

“Ito-San… you’re—”

“—hot?”

You blinked, staring up at him in shock. Did he just? Your lips parted as you short circuited—should you continue or just come up with something on the fly? A slight gasp left you as his hand reached up and grabbed the back of your head, bringing you closer.

The crowd erupted into gasps, even Ryun and Sana looked absolutely shocked. You couldn’t even think. Someone.. was taking control? You—you—??!?

His breath tickled your ears as your eyes clinched shut, your hands digging into his blazer as you let out a stuttered breath. You could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle.

“Sure. Let’s make out.” He said, loud enough for only you to hear. With that, he pulled away, his hand gently rubbing the back of your head before dropping. His face was stoic, his lips straight but you could almost see a slight smirk on them as he walked past you.

It was hushed whispers as everyone dispersed as soon as the school bell rang, signaling lunch was over. Ryun and Sana ran over to you, Sana gripping your shoulders as she shook you.

“Hey, what the hell was that?!” She cried.

You only let out a whimper, looking at the both of them in pure shock. “I…I don’t know…”

“Wow. Ito Yuki changed. He put (L.Name) in his place!” Ryun laughed, patting you on the back. “So? He rejected you?”

Right. They didn’t hear him. You paused, almost wondering if you should tell them. Would they believe you? Sana and Ryun looked at you expectedly.

“Yea…” You muttered, laughing slightly. “He rejected me.” You looked down as Sana rubbed your shoulders in a comforting manner. Ryun just patted your head as they steered you back to the classroom.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I..Ito Yuki?!”

You glanced up as you heard your classmates exclaim in shock. Ito… Yuki? It had only been a week since that incident happened and you hadn’t seen Ito a lot. But that was to be expected. He was in 3-A, smartest of the third years and c student council president.

Sana and Ryun were geeking out beside you as Ito walked into the classroom, heading straight towards you. You felt weird. Not uncomfortable but odd. Like your body was… scared of him? But it wasn’t a bad scared. It reminded you of going on a rollercoaster.

The fear during but the ecstasy afterwards.

“(L.Name).”

Oh. That’s a first. You didn’t like hearing him say that. Huh.

“H..Hello, Ito-San.” You muttered, your grip tightening on your bag as he looked at you. His gaze was intense, even with his overgrown bangs. You wished those bangs covered his eyes more.

“Let’s go on a date.”

The classroom erupted into screams at his words. Date?! Date with you of all people?! No one even cared that Ito was surprisingly into men. No, it was surprising he would go for someone like you. The school campus’s proud playboy that was barely passing through school!

You didn’t even get to answer as his hand grabbed your wrist and began tugging you along. Your eyes met Sana and Ryun who looked at you with pure shock. You couldn’t blame them.

You’ve never really gone on dates before. Sure, at the beginning in first year when you were starting out your slut activities. But by second year, anyone who dated you knew that you mostly wanted them for sex. So to have Ito Yuki, of all people, coming to date you was… shocking.

Also fake. It had to be fake.

Yeouch!

Not fake. Not fake at all.

This was how you’d soon find yourself in a movie theater. Ito had something about liking movie dates and there was a movie he wanted to watch. A horror movie maybe? You couldn’t pay attention. You sat down beside him, staring off into space as the movie began playing.

It was an American movie, judging by the fact you couldn’t understand them. You glanced up at the screen, seeing the subtitles on the right. Ah, a slasher. You’ve seen multiple slashers so you knew the format like you knew blowjobs.

But you didn’t expect Ito to be interested in this type of stuff. You glanced over at him, watching as he stared straight at the screen, occasionally taking a sip from his soda. Huh, he’s zoned in.

You sighed and decided to get comfortable. Lucky for you, most slashers knew not to over stay their welcome. So you began watching, occasionally glancing at the other moviegoers who decided to watch a slasher at 5:00 pm on a Friday.

Mainly older couples. A few high schools students. And what you could assume some college students.

A hand grazed your thigh which caused you to let out a loud gasp. Luckily a jumpscare drowned you out. You looked down to see the arm rest pulled up that blocked you from Ito and his hand resting just an inch from your thigh.

Huh. What did he..?

You didn’t get to think any further when another loud jumpscare filled the theater. Your attention turned right as a poor woman was sawed in half. Oh, what a way to die. There continued to be gorey deaths that you forgot all about Ito’s strange decision to pull up the armrest.

Not until the movie cut to a random couple having sex in the car. Ah, you knew kills like this. Directors seemed to love having naked women run for their life after their boyfriend is killed.

There’s probably something wrong about that.

Before you could delve deeper into this question you felt a hand rest on your thighs. Just as you were about to even look down, the hand moved to your crotch and squeezed. A gasped left you that was coincidentally timed with the actress’s.

Has Ito’s hands always been this big? You let out a sharp shudder as you watched him grope your crotch. Really, you should’ve pushed him away. But you were just shocked that someone like Ito would be doing this.

And in a weird way, you did… like it? But it didn’t last long, just as the actress was killed by the killer, Ito pulled away. You couldn’t help your slight whimper as you glanced over at him. He didn’t even spare you a look.

Jerk.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You went on a date?!”

You sighed as you rubbed your eyes, staring at the two clowns in your room. Ryun and Sana had a spare key to your home—thanks mom!—so they didn’t even need to wait for you to open it. It was the next day after your date with Ito. It ended a bit unsatisfactory.

He just walked you home and waved goodbye. He didn’t even give you his number.

“Yea… he literally said that yesterday after class.” You whined, wanting to just plop back down and sleep. You masturbated all night last night, wishing he had touched you more. Which was a fucking first. You usually never have a wet dream about your partners.

“Wow… maybe, Ito-San likes you?” Ryun muttered, biting his lip as he sat down on your bed.

“Ito-San and (L.Name)?! That’s crazy.” Sana exclaimed. “But Ito-San isn’t someone to prank around.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Mhm~ maybe this sexy body has him curious.” You teased, sending a flirty wink to Ryun. He looked at you with pure disgust.

“Yeah, right.” Ryun grabbed a pillow and threw it at your face. “If he does, I owe you dinner for a week.”

“Deal!”

“Oh,” Sana suddenly muttered. “Wouldn’t yesterday be the start of the week? So you’ll break up with him next week Friday?”

You pursed your lips. Yeah, she was right. But why did you suddenly hate the idea of leaving him? You only gave a noncommittal nod and get out of bed, wanting to just take a shower and wash off the masturbation from last night.

Ito had to have know about you. He knew your usual phrase when asking someone out.

Well, you had the rest of the week to find out what he wanted from you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Technically you didn’t. Because it was already next Friday and he didn’t come for you at all. It wasn’t like you could call him either—you didn’t have his phone number. Sana and Ryun could tell it was affecting you but you didn’t even know why.

You’ve dealt with this. Sometimes the weekly partner ended up being just one night. And sure, you got a bit upset the next day but you’d bounce right back right after. You didn’t understand at all.

“(L.Name).”

You glanced over to see Ito Yuki staring down at you. Your classmates seemed able to not scream like last time. But their phones were out and were whispering to each other.

“I..Ito-San..?” You slowly stood up, looking up at him in shock. You should’ve been mad but you felt your heart flutter. Wow, you must’ve really wanted his dick.

“Let’s go to my house.” He said, which earned a round of gasps. Sana and Ryun looked like deers in headlights. You could only nod as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the classroom.

Damn, Ito Yuki. He’s probably the only partner that ever had you this bad over dick. And you haven’t even had it yet! Shame it was the last day.

Once you reached his house, you were shocked at how big it was. “Wow… Ito-San, are your parents rich?” You asked, slipping off your shoes as you walked behind him.

“Yuki.”

“Hm?” You replied, grunting when you bumped into him.

“We’re dating, no? So call me by my given name. That’s what couples do.” It—Yuki said nonchalantly, moving to go to the kitchen. You followed right behind him, unable to hide the growing heat on your face. This.. this was a first.

Would he do the same…? You hoped he would.

Much to your surprise, Yuki began making dinner for you. It wasn’t anything difficult, just chicken Katsu curry. You tried to help but he quite literally manhandled you to sit down at the dining table. If there was a growing bulge in your pants you quickly decided to ignore it.

After he finished, he placed a bowl in front of you and sat down beside you. You ate in complete silent. It was a bit uncomfortable because you weren’t used to dinners like this but it gave you perfect view of Yuki.

He looked so pretty? You weren’t sure. He had pulled his bangs back with a cute hello kitty pin and you couldn’t help but wonder who gave him that. He didn’t seem like the boy to like cute stuff. You were able to see his eyes better now—fox like eyes staring right at you.

You coughed slightly and looked down at your curry. “Hm, this is good curry, Yuki. Who, uh, taught you how to make it?”

“My mom.”

“Oh. Where’s your parents?”

“They’re out for the weekend.” He said, his eyes trailing down your face, right to your lips. “They won’t be back until Monday.”

Oh? A slight shudder left your body as your back straightened. The whole weekend? Did he not want this to last the week?

“But today is a full week?”

Yuki hummed. “Since we started dating? Yeah, do you like those type of things?”

“Eh?”

“Keeping track of how long we’ve been together? Do you like doing that? I can do it for you.” He said, finishing his plate off.

“Uh—”

“Sorry I couldn’t meet you during the week, I had to help plan the festival coming up.” He reached over and grabbed your plate. The plates clinked together as he carried them to the sink, gently dropping them in.

Before you could stand up, you felt Yuki rest his chin on your shoulder. You flinched at the touch but calmed down as his nose nuzzled your neck. A giggle left your lips at the ticklish touch. He pressed a kiss on your collarbone before pulling away, motioning for you to get up.

“Do you,” he muttered, reaching over and grabbing the back of your head. “want to make out?” You didn’t even think before eagerly nodding, looking up at him expectantly. He pressed his lips against yours with ease. His glasses pushed against your face but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.

Your hand slowly reached up his body before resting themselves on his shoulders, fingers curling at his button up. Your lips locked with his, easily moving in tandem without pulling apart. Breathing didn’t seem important at the moment.

You hadn’t even noticed you were standing on your toes until the pressure on them began to hurt. A struggled gasp left you as you pulled away, needing to catch a breath while also resting back on the balls of your feet. But Yuki immediately chased your lips, sacrificing his back as he bent down.

His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs digging into your skin. When did he even pull open your shirt? You didn’t get to think with how eager he was kissing you. It felt like you were the inexperienced one with how easily he was taking control.

“Y-Yuki.” You managed to moan into his lips, pulling away to breathe. A giggle left you when he subconsciously chased after your lips again but you pressed a finger against his. “Wait a minute.”

It was different—but in a good way. You were always the one in control during make outs. People were the one to pull away after you made them breathless. It was exciting for it to be the opposite.

“Are you…?” You whispered, wanting to make sure.

Sure, you were a degenerate who liked having sex with virgins, but you always toned yourself down when you did. Treat them like glass unless stated otherwise was your motto!

Yuki hummed. “Virgin? Yeah.”

“Do you know how—?”

“—I’m a virgin, not an idiot.”

You pouted. “I was just checking. Your first time needs to be good.”

“It’s already good.” He whispered, a slight smirk on his lips when you looked away in embarrassment. “But it could be better.”

“Hm? Better how?”

For the first time ever, you saw Yuki’s lips pull into a full smirk. Oh no.

Oh no indeed…

In front of you on the bed was a dress. A cute dress. But a dress nonetheless. It was white with a black bow on the chest. Frilly ends on the sleeves. Paired with white stockings.

The outfit reminded you of something but you didn’t know what.

You dated a lot of people. You’ve done strange shit because of people’s kinks. This, was tame. You shuddered at the time you dressed like a dog. Not even just dog ears and a tail… a full on dog.

Honestly this was a breath of fresh air. So you huffed and slipped out of your clothes, putting on the outfit with ease. Hm, it fit perfectly. You briefly wondered if Yuki somehow had your measurements.

“I’m dressed, Yuki.” You called, slipping on the last stockings. There was a mirror on the closet door. You moved over and couldn’t help but twirl. The dress really was cute. You took in the detailing of the dress and noticed a slight stain on one of the sleeves. But how could it have gotten a stain? Did Yuki make other people wear this?

That left a bitter taste in your mouth. Just because he was a virgin didn’t mean he hadn’t fooled around before. Which you couldn’t judge. That was your reputation!

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist causing you to flinch. Yuki hummed as he looked at you from the mirror. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his face still stoic. But the way his hands gripped your waist and body as it trailed around you.

“It still fits.” He suddenly muttered. “I was worried you would’ve grown too much since then.”

“Huh? Grown?”

“You don’t remember it?” His hands gripped your waist as he easily spun you around to face him. “First year. School festival.”

Festival? You stared at him confused for a moment before gasping in disbelief. “No way! You kept this?! I thought I threw it out?!” You said, pulling at the fabric in pure shock.

In your first year, your class did a maid cafe, but instead of girls, it was boys as the maids. You played as the head maid because you looked more girlish compared to everyone when you wore the wig. It was fun but you didn’t see the use in keeping the dress after so you threw it up.

Apparently Yuki found it.

“You did. I just grabbed it before they took out the trash. I would’ve saved the wig too..” he muttered, a slight pout on his lips.

You couldn’t help the slight scoff leaving you. “Wig? Do you want me to be a girl?”

“No. You just looked… cute. I like cute things.” He said, shrugging. “You just look cuter feminine.”

“But I don’t even remember you at the festival.”

Yuki hummed. “How could you? I was shorter than you back then. But I remember you. The cute head maid flaunting his cute little dress in front of everyone.”

You blushed. “I wouldn’t say I flaunted it…”

“Really? I think you were a lot of guys awakening that day. So many eyes on you.” His hands tugged at the bottom of the skirt. “Hm, you grew in height. It’s much shorter now.”

You reached down and noticed that it was resting just at the end of your ass. Certainly shorter than in first year when it was closer to your knees. Well at least you can say you did have a growth spurt… just nothing compared to Yuki’s.

“So, you want to have sex with me in it?”

“Mhm. I’ve masturbated to you wearing it for years now.”

You sputtered in shock, watching as Yuki moved away to possibly grab a condom and lube. This Ito Yuki was nothing to the one you thought you knew back at school. The way he could say it so casually made you feel some type of way. But you couldn’t explain it.

Gosh, you’d assume you’re the virgin.

With a slight pep talk in your mind, you squared your shoulders and stormed over to Yuki. He looked over at you and tilted his head, opening his lips to ask something but you pushed him down on the bed. Though you had to use a lot of strength for that—jeez, how tough was he?

You straddled his hips and grinned, looking down at him. “Don’t worry, Yuki~! I’ll make your first time special.” You whispered, gently rubbing your ass against his growing bulge.

Yuki seemed to want to say something but you kissed him, helping him pull off his pants. You knew what to do. You’ve done this so many times it was practically second nature. When you slipped off his boxers, you almost whimpered at the sight.

It was bigger than any you’ve seen before. That stereotype of slender men having bigger dicks didn’t seem like an internet lie anymore. You wondered if it looked bigger when he was thinner and didn’t have the lean muscle he had now.

Shit.

“Are you ready for your first blowjob?” You asked, smirking slightly. You expected him to finally start acting like a blushing virgin but he looked more so bored? Huh?

“Another time. I wanna be in you.”

You felt your cheeks flush. He wanted you quickly, huh? That’s a first. There were even times guys just wanted a blowjob from you and nothing else. This was, interesting to say the least. You gave him a hum and pulled down your own boxers, pulling up the dress.

You felt his eyes zero in on your body as you grabbed the lube and squirt some on your fingers. This was the best. Having someone watch you as you got yourself ready for them. You didn’t waste anytime, easily slipping in two fingers inside your hole. A grunt left you but you kept going, easily stretching yourself out.

If Yuki wanted to be inside, he’d get it. Besides, who doesn’t like a little bit of pain?

The dress was sticking to your skin already and you hadn’t even got his cock inside you yet. It was thin and a bit cheap in material but it certainly knew how to make you warm.

You reached over and grabbed the condom on the nightstand, easily tearing it open with your teeth. The slight eyebrow raise from Yuki made you smirk. It was a habit that you gained from sleeping around so much. Also past partners said it was sexy so you kept doing it.

What works, works!

After finally slipping the condom onto his cock, which surprisingly fit, you moved up to level your ass with his cock. You gave him a slight smile and rest your hand on his chest.

“You can always tell me to stop, okay?” You whispered, making sure he heard you. Yuki only gave you a nod, a look of impatience in his eyes.

Not wanting to make him anymore restless, you wordlessly began to sink down onto his cock. A short gasp filled the room as your fingers gripped his shirt. He was huge but feeling it inside was a whole different experience. You haven’t slept with a guy in a minute so you certainly felt a bit nervous than normal.

But it was fine.

The sight of Yuki was pretty to say the least. He still had on his stupid glasses, the hello kitty pin that held back his bangs. His face was already sweaty while his lips pulled into a slight grimace.

Ah, you knew the face well.

You leaned in close to him—your noses touching.

“Good? It’ll get better from here.” You grinned, leaning back as you slowly rolled your hips.

Except it didn’t really..?

It had to have been maybe ten minutes and Yuki hadn’t cummed at all. You came once which was embarrassing since you weren’t used to cumming before your partners. But you thought maybe he was just nervous so you kept bouncing on his cock.

But by the ten minute mark, he looked bored.

You thought you were imagining it but no, you could tell he was zoning out. His eyes were focused on you but he wasn’t reacting. Even when you picked up the pace, he didn’t even grunt.

A wave of embarrassment mixed in with anger flared within you. You stilled your hips to a stop, finally earning Yuki’s attention as he blinked and actually paid attention to you.

“Seriously…” You grunted, rolling your eyes. “If I’m that boring, you take over!” You were so used to being in control that you actually didn’t want him to take over. Really you wanted to go home, fully embarrassed that in the first time in forever, your partner wasn’t satisfied.

The hands that once laid on your thighs without any grip slowly moved upwards, digging its’ nails into the free upper thigh that wasn’t covered by your knee socks. You let out a surprised grunt at the pain but you didn’t even get to say anything about it before they trail up and grip your waist.

A gasp leaves you when you feel his hips slam up into you.

“Wh—?”

Colors blur as you feel yourself be pushed down onto the bed, your head bouncing slightly from the fast movement. Your legs are grabbed and pushed up, almost knocking yourself in the face.

“Yuki..!” You managed to cry out at his manhandling but he doesn’t seem to care at the moment. You can only watch as he takes off the hair clip and carelessly tosses it away. His bangs fall over his eyes and to your dismay, you can’t see them this time.

Doesn’t help the bedroom is only lit by a small lamp on the nightstand. The shadows practically cover his upper face beside his lips. You can see a slight glint in his glasses but he soon removed them as well, gently resting them on the nightstand.

It’s weird. Your stomach starts to feel weird again. That same feeling when he pulled you close on Valentine’s Day. What was this?

A quick slap of skin bleeds into the room as your thoughts are jumbled before you could even think. You could’ve sworn you heard a cry—like a high pitched voice. Was that?

Yeah, it was you.

Your back arched as Yuki slammed his cock inside you in a constant rhythm. There was cries and whimpers coming straight from you in tandem with his thrusts. You’ve never sounded like this before—you didn’t even think you could make a sound like this.

Your eyes began to water as you pressed your hand against your lips, wanting to muffle the new strange sounds coming.

“Hey…” Yuki’s thrusting slowed down as he reached over and grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away. “Did I say you can do that?” His fingers tightened around your wrist, earning a slight squeak from you in pain.

A laugh filled the room. A boyish smile appearing on Yuki’s lips. He looked so scary like this. No eyes for you to look in. Just the sight of his lips being your only way of knowing how he’s feeling.

“You’re so cute. Like a little hamster.”

“H..Hamster..?”

“Mhm.” His thrusting began again, filling the room with the sounds of squelching and skin slapping. “Cute little hamster. Squishy.”

“Squish—!”

A whimper left you as your toes curled. Shit, you were cumming already?! You let out a grunt and turned your head to the side, wanting to just bury it in the soft bedsheets beneath you.

“Two already.” Yuki said absentmindedly, his hands releasing your thighs as he slowed down his thrusting. You glanced over at him, seeing his hands trail up your body. They were veiny. Larger than yours. He could hold both of your wrists with one hand. You shuddered at the thought.

“Don’t make fun of me.” You whispered, hoping he would just cum already.

Yuki hummed. “I’m making fun of you?” He asked, genuinely confused. You wish you could see his eyes—just to see a glimpse into what he’s thinking. But all you get a little smile.

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m keeping count.” His hands reached the top of your collar, slowly tightening around it. You hummed, wondering what he was about to do. “So I can give you more next time.”

“Give me more?”

“Mhm.”

The sound of fabric tearing caught your attention as you glanced down and saw your dress being torn apart by Yuki’s hands. It started off slow, as if he was fighting the seams before easily pulling it apart once he reached the middle.

A strangled moan left you at the show of strength. Oh man. How could you survive any longer with this guy?

“Yuki!”

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He said, leaning down as he pressed kisses on your bare skin. Your toes curled as you gripped at the bed sheets beneath you. “I’ll buy you prettier dresses.”

A breathy whimper left your lips. “There’ll be a next time?”

“Why wouldn’t there be? You’re my boyfriend.” He pulled out his cock and easily flipped you to rest on the side of your stomach. He plopped down behind you and raised one of your legs, slotting himself easily back into your tight heat.

“Y… You actually like me..?” You muttered, gasping as he begins a slow and steady pace, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Yuki simply hummed. “I wanna fuck you. We can talk later.” He said bluntly. You shrieked as he captured your lips into a kiss and began fucking you in a harsh pace.

The sounds of skin slapping and your muffled moans filled the room. Your fingers digging into the bed while his dug into your skin. There was a slight burn on your thighs and you weren’t sure if he possibly broke your skin from just how hard he gripped you.

You pulled away from the kiss, needing to catch your breath when you noticed why Yuki had put you in this position. The fucking mirror.

Damn pervert.

You couldn’t really hide yourself, not with his arm holding you up. All you could do was kiss him again, not having to see your fucked out expression. It didn’t take long for you to reach another orgasm with ease, the cum coating your stomach in a sight of white liquid.

A whimper left your sore throat as Yuki maneuvered you to rest on your knees as he continued fucking into you. Finally, you buried your face into the sheets, biting them to muffle your moans.

“I’m close. Just a little more, (Name)-Chan.”

Yuki let out a surprised grunt when he felt you tighten around his cock. You whimpered in embarrassment, squeezing your eyes shut. No way. No way that your body just did that.

A slight chuckle left Yuki as he draped his chest against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. “So cute, (Name)-Chan.” With that, he pulled away and gripped your hips as he chased his own release. It didn’t take too long, his grunts mixing in with your cries.

His hips slammed against your ass as he groaned, finally reaching his orgasm. You hummed before feeling something wet coat your insides. Yuki pulled away and hummed.

“It broke.”

You turned around, seeing him hold a broken condom. “It broke?!” You cried, moving to sit up only to wince in pain. “Yuki… why are you so calm?!”

“It’s fine. It looks pretty.” He said, pointing at the cum slowly leaking from your ass.

“Pervert!”

“Mhm.” He pushed up his sweaty bangs and sighed, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Shower?”

“Yeah. Uhm, are we… a couple?”

“Yeah.” He got off the bed and leaned over to you, a slight smirk on his lips. “I’m the only man you can be a slut for from now on.”

“I’m not a slut!”

Yuki only gave you a shrug before walking away to start the bath. Well, it looked like you weren’t a playboy anymore.

But it felt good.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

First fic back!! Way longer than it needed to be… hope yall like Yuki. I kinda want to make him into a full OC, but I’ll see.

Tag list: @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @ofclyde @mello-life25 @kiiyoooo @tomoeroi @tehyunnie @the-ultimate-librarian @smellwell @love-kha1 @star-3214 @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #male reader #male bottom reader #mlm nsft #x male smut #smut ideas

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